Certain things have changed in Aix. When we passed by the residence we used to live in a few days ago, a whole bus depot had been constructed just at the entrance of the gate – the grass and hills and flowers had been replaced by buses and lines of people.
I used to walk from our old apartment to centre ville – approximately 20 minutes downhill – all the time, since buses only passed by my stop twice an hour. So I would walk, along with my mp3 player, through the rain or the snow or under the heat of the sun. Twenty minutes’ worth of music (I would always include The Flaming Lips’ Fight Test because it’s such a great song to walk along to) and steady downhill walking. When I’d pass the little Casino grocery store, I would know that I had fifteen more minutes of walking. The Auto Ecole and Pizzeria would tell me that there was 8 more minutes left. By the time I’d reach the bar at the corner of the street, I could count ten steps before finding myself smack in the heart of centre ville, where I would then start to dawdle, enter shops, run errands, take my time.
I knew that road, that city so well that it was almost a shame to leave it. But then we eventually have to abandon what’s familiar because it has become too familiar. I do miss France from time to time, but then I’ve moved on to the unfamiliar, complaining but enjoying it, and that’s just the way it works.
Currently listening to:
Blonde Redhead
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