Generally I am a homebody. I like having the comforts and little familiarities that make up a home all around me whenever I want.
But.
Sometimes I am reminded of the things I long to see. Venice. Rome. The Louvre. The Blarney Stone. Greece. The pyramids. Phantom on the West End. The Tower of London. The Taj Mahal. Art and history, physically present. I was surprised by the gut reaction I had when I visited the art museum here, and the way I very nearly wept at the sight of a few Monet paintings. Paintings. A couple square feet of decorated canvas that travel easily enough, and I almost lost my composure entirely.
In America we have our few hundred years of history, but it doesn’t reach very far back. Not comparatively. I want to touch a building that was old when Christ walked the earth. I want to see where the Tudor family created history as we know it. I want to stand where Julius Caesar met his end. Nowhere on this continent can I connect with the history of my ancestors as fully as I can in England, France, Germany, and Italy.
We have so much to see and learn in our lives. We live in incredible times. All the wonder of the world at our fingertips.
I would weep in the Louvre…nearly wept at the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin….had a hard time talking while standing there. There were a few times on our trip to Germany where I teared up….there are times I still do…like when I hear Mozart or sing a Paul Gerhardt hymn. It is awesome to feel that way about history. I am sure, one day, you will get there….I hope that I will again…to see the places you long to see, as well.
I just finished reading a book about the Plantagenets–Edward III, John of Gaunt, and Edward the Black Prince, to be precise–and ever since I have had an *almost physical* desire to go see THINGS. The Tower of London, the ruins of Bolingbroke and Kenilworth….
But then, I always have the travel bug. I get chills when I see planes flying overhead; how pitiful is that?
You took the words right out of my mouth.
I visited the Chicago art museum about a month ago, saw the Monet paintings, and all but swooned. My friends nearly had to carry me out of there; I guess that’s pretty sad, but It’s a MONET! He touched it with his own hands! And now it’s here, in Chicago, and I was standing THREE FEET AWAY!
I’ve had a travel bug for a long time, made even worse by hating where I live. Though, if my reaction to a couple of old paintings is so severe, I’m kind of worried about what might happen when I actually do go and see old places, where amazing things actually took place.