Moveable feast, moving on
The sun is shining and the wind is almost warm. The turquoise water lapping the shore outside my window brings back images of Croatia and Italy. But I’m not there. I am here, in Northern Norway, by the Arctic Circle.
Why is it that once you get what you want, you start longing for something else?
I must admit it has been hard to see pictures of friends and family, enjoying the beautiful Swedish summer, not to mention the reports from my friends down in Cape Town. We’ve tried to have the games on at work but because Norway didn’t buy the rights to show the games on TV we have to play it through a computer and with their terrible internet connection it gets cut and delayed all the time. Our chefs are English and when England was playing the other night we had it on in the kitchen.
Coming in to leave my orders when the image of my beloved Cape Town was right in front of my eyes, almost hurt.
Signal Hill where we had our sundowner’s picnics. Sea Point where we took brisk winter walks. The backdrop of the Twelve Apostles that watched over us while we lay on the sand of Camps Bay, on lazy days. I miss it all so much!
But time moves on doesn’t it?
And this place is beautiful too. It’s just that it’s not about the place. It’s about the frame of mind. The people and the atmosphere. The things you can’t pin point, only feel.
And unfortunately I haven’t felt this place. At least not my work place. That is why I made the decision not to stay throughout the contract.
I resigned this morning.
I work until the first of August. Another month. But believe me, I feel so much better now and so much more like ME.
Don’t let them ruin your sensitive side, Maria said.
I’ll smile and face the sun today, remembering that someone once told me that I was a moveable feast, like Hemingway’s Paris.
“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for all of Paris is a moveable feast”