i've shared photos before of the pictures of europe that i had in my head before i actually visited. i think as americans, we grow up with a rather romantic notion of europe - that it's filled with cobblestone streets, charming canals, ancient castles and grand sights like big ben and the eiffel tower. of course, the reality, when living there is your everyday, is that you might as well live in iowa or wisconsin. it's just your everyday and you go about your normal life, driving to your normal work in your rather old and shabby toyota (old and shabby because you pay 150% taxes on cars and that makes them very expensive), going to the normal (albiet rather small and with a limited selection) grocery store, coming home to your normal old falling-down farmhouse, where your husband is creating a new kitchen in what was once a pig stall. you know, totally normal, like everyone else.
but sometimes, you spot a charming little wonky house beside a moat and you remember those romantic pictures you had in your head. and you get a powerful longing in your soul, to go back to a time when the fantasy was still intact in your head. and you could go over and climb those stairs up to the little door, let yourself in and look around at the objects on the windowsills, shells, acorns gathered on a walk, maybe a feather. you would light a few candles, put on some tea and curl up with a book, occasionally gazing dreamily out of the window onto the moat.
and then you'd go for a little stroll over to the small castle, its walls a meter thick, to protect from marauding danes and you'd listen for the whispers of those who tread on those cobblestone walkways before you. and you sigh and say, "this is exactly how i imagined europe would be."
