Strasbourg When it Rains

I must again interrupt the narrative I set out to complete. This demonstrates a regrettable lack of discipline on my part, because had I not waited a month to get around to recording these things, there would be no conflict, and fewer details lost.

But anyways.

I will take up Salzburg where I left off, and hopefully insightful reflection will compensate for the weakened memory that's left. There's no help for it anyway, because now I must write about Strasbourg, where I am to spend the next four months.

I did not like Strasbourg in the beginning. As the train left Switzerland, I watched the skies warm from gray to something sunny. But as the clouds parted, as Basel blurred into Colmar, Mulhouse, others, I felt myself go cold. (I will go back later and tell you about that trip) I felt myself unwelcome in a strange place.

Let me present you with a comparison. If Munich is the girl who smiles at everyone and wears her emotions emblazoned on her sleeve, then Strasbourg is the one who averts her eyes and walks swiftly past those she doesn't know. That is my impression, anyway.

I was very tired, and I regretted leaving home. Not unexpected, I think. But don't worry, first impressions are rarely dependable; I warmed up to Strasbourg soon enough.

I arrived at the gates of the Syracuse Center breathless, watching my taxi drive off like a child abandoned. Then I entered a room full of strangers, most of whom already knew each other, having traveled here together from the states. It was very stuffy in the room, I remember, and I arrived after they'd already begun. Everything was dreamlike, nothing felt real.

And then it began to rain. Gently at first, and then enthusiastically enough to drive some of us beneath the cover of umbrellas. Not I, as you must know. Bareheaded, I walked along a mass of ponchos and umbrellas and coats. It hadn't rained in San Diego for a long time. The water cleansed the air, purified our breaths, soaked my hair.

I hate to sound like a hippie, but that's when things started looking up. It's not that Strasbourg changed how she was, but that I got myself a new attitude about the whole thing. It really is a lovely city, especially when it rains.

Excuse this post, as I'm sitting in a youth hostel in Lindau, Germany, and I'm very tired. Actually I'm tempted to delete this whole thing now (quit while you're ahead, you know), but I don't think I'll ever be able to make it better. I'm already beginning to forget how I felt then, and being exhausted, my narrative is less burdened by any conscious restraints.