A Minimalist Abroad

I left Cowtown.  For my 50^th birthday, I embarked on an adventure.   It would be my longest trip away to date, aside from our annual pilgrimage to our Canada cabin.  That always seems like going home in its own way, since my things are there, and my family’s spirit embodies each board and stone. 

I went to Europe.  Because my brain knew I loved Paris.  Bearing in mind I haven’t seen Paris since I was a preschooler when I lived in the UK with my parents.  Preschoolers don’t give a shit about the Sacre-Coeur. But I would love it now.

I packed as sparsely as my Americanadian self would permit. I knew I could figure out how to buy shampoo in German and for sure en français, so I packed only my necessary things.  Of course, the laptop went too, because graduate school stops for no man. 

I learned many things.  I learned I don’t speak German.  Many Germans speak English, which I greatly appreciated.  But I couldn’t read signs or understand any conversation after please and thank you.  In the US, I don’t thing we appreciate the universality of our first language.  We expect things to be in English, people to understand us, and things to be in USD.  I learned I need to fluently learn another language.  I know enough Spanish to interview many of my patients and give medication instructions.  But I can’t explain a complicated treatment or speak with any semblance of fluency.  I will fix this, my linguistic inadequacy.

I learned we in the US don’t spend enough time marveling at things.  I have tried to appreciate sunsets, the perfect balance of lime, tequila and triple sec on a hot July evening, and the art that has visited our city from time to time.  Seeing things you haven’t seen before gives the opportunity for marveling.  I emerged from le métro and walked out in to the Paris sunshine with La Tour Eiffel in the horizon.  I stood, awestruck, and marveled.  I had to wipe away the watery stuff leaking from inside my sunglasses.  Can you imagine, going to work every day and the Eiffel Tower is just standing by on your route to the office?  Do Parisians marvel at it?  I presume no, because the stupid tourists are in the way.   

I learned to not need to be entertained, but to appreciate pleasure.  The Europeans sit in a sidewalk café, order alcohol any time of the day, and enjoy their food and drink.  There is no rush to consume, no urgent bucket list, and little watch-looking.  Just enjoy.  The concept seems so foreign to us in the States.

One thing I am doing right?  Photos.  Instead of clamoring to get a photo of the Mona Lisa (which is available in a zillion Google images), I stood in her presence.  Even with the scrum of knuckleheads obstructing my view with their iPads (good thing I am tall), I breathed in the life of the room, Lisa’s aura, the majesty of being in La Louvre and seeing Da Vinci’s work that evolved after many years into Paris’ top tourist attraction.   It was spiritual.  I did same while standing on the beaches of Normandy, conjuring up visions of young men staring down death amid gunfire and waves of the Channel to liberate the world from evil.  Only one or two pictures; just experienced the moment. 

As minimalist as I could be, experiencing unfamiliar cultures, foods, and languages, I realized I didn’t need much at all (Google maps, however, is a life-changer for the foreign traveler).  What a gift for making it through a whole half century.  One more half to go...