Once upon a time in Paris…

My very wise sister once theorised that life moves in five-year cycles: every five years or so there is a desire (or need, perhaps) for change, for a new chapter. Five years ago, I moved to Paris. What started as just an ERASMUS year, turned out to be the year that changed my life. It was, of course, the year that I met Florian – the year that I met the man I was destined to marry. It was a year full of memories that I will carry with me for a lifetime.

And tomorrow, Florian and I will go to Paris, the final destination of our Europe trip together. It seems only right that this five-year chapter – the most exciting five years of my life so far – ends where it began. Although we have been back to Paris since moving to London, somehow this visit feels more significant. It feels like the end of an era; and I am full of anticipation for the next chapter of our lives. I am already dreaming of what the next five years will bring, and I am bursting with hope and positivity.

Paris was a funny time of life. I was both thrilled with life and desperate to return home to my family. This is a feeling I seem to constantly walk around with: happiness, but always with a lingering feeling that everything would be so much better if it was spent with my family too. In Paris though, I constructed my own little family, and though it only lasted for those ten months, it was a very precious family. My life revolved around three wonderful people: Florian (of course!) and two of my most cherished friends, Charlee (you might remember her from Sicily?) and Chloe. I imagine that the next few days in Paris will fill me with memories of my Paris family – people who I truly love – and a longing, once again, for home and all the people that I will find there.

I don’t know how I feel about God, or destiny versus coincidence, but somehow this all feels like it was meant to be. Florian and I were meant to be in Paris, for whatever reason, to meet each other; to fall in love; to get married; and to embark on this adventure that has taken us across Europe and will now take us back to where it all began.

The end of this trip, I believe, will mark the end of our first five-year cycle together. And what an amazing cycle it has been. My advice to people is always to remember – to remember why you are together, how you got together. Whenever I look back and remember our early days together in Paris, I feel warm and happy inside, knowing that I will always have those wonderful memories. Because, really, that’s what life is, isn’t it? Collecting memories all the time, wherever you go, whatever you do.

I love to remember; I love to look back at what was, to observe what is, and to dream of what will be. 

Fifty shades of green

When I try and think of London, I can picture only the grey of the streets and the harsh neon colours of Piccadilly Circus; the white walls of my old office and the dull beige curtains of our old flat. Colour, unsurprisingly, was not one of my main preoccupations.

This all changed the moment we arrived in Tuscany. We visited a number of little towns including Orvieto and Volterra, though it was San Gimignano that truly stole my heart – a small walled medieval hill town in the province of Siena, almost like a self-defined island amidst the sprawling Tuscan hills. The town itself was very pretty, consisting of beautiful churches and piazzas, picturesque streets and towers.

But it was the landscape that took my breath away. Having spent practically no time in the countryside previously, my knowledge of the colour green was elementary – grass is green, trees are green. And yet here was an entire universe of just this one colour.

There were illuminating, parrot green trees that made sure we all knew it was still summer. But then there were thicker, darker green trees that were a reminder of the inevitability of autumn. The silvery green trees were almost a tease, making me think of Christmas though it was only the beginning of September. And, of course, the cypress trees – typical of the Tuscan region – stood tall and proud, the natural protectors of this beautiful landscape.

Wrapped up in the walls of the town was a peaceful courtyard – the only sound came from the drifting melodies of the harpist in the corner. Though surrounded by high walls and therefore unable to actually see the landscape, it was impossible not to feel the beauty that engulfed us.

It reminded me, once again, of the importance of standing still – not just literally, but also figuratively. Human nature is such that we are always so preoccupied with what we feel we must avoid and, by contrast, what we aspire to have/be that we rarely just stop and look around at life as it is.

Each moment counts, and there is colour and life everywhere. Just look around, and you will see it. I want to take the time out of every day – no matter how busy it might feel – to appreciate everything: the infinite universe of colour, the signs that tell us (sometimes subtly, sometimes explicitly) that a new season is about to begin, and the knowledge that the world is beautiful just as it is.  

I hope – no, I know – that when I return to London, I will see more than just grey and beige. And I will allow more than just a cursory glance at my surroundings. I want to internalise everything I see, every place I go to, adding it all to my mind’s memory bank, enriching my eyes’ colour scale, and sharpening my understanding of the richness of the world.

Blessed

Today we will get on a ferry and head to Italy. We are very sad to be leaving Greece, having spent two beautiful weeks here. I feel that Greece, despite its financial woes, continues to be wonderful. It makes me realise that there is always something to be happy about. This got me thinking about all the things that I am thankful for, and – inspired by one of my favourite blogs, Rockstar Diaries – I decided to put together a little list.

I am thankful for:

…the feeling of the sun on my skin – it reaches right down in to my soul, warms it up and leaves me feeling more alive than ever

…the time to be creative – to think and to dream

…the opportunity to miss my family and friends – to appreciate their worth and the important role they play in my life

…the courage to start again – to not know what the future holds and to be okay with that

…the chance to travel – to explore, to discover and to learn along the way

…the companionship of my best friend, my soul mate, my husband – to love and to be loved

…the heightened state of my senses – to take in the beautiful sights of the world, to feel the sand between my toes, to listen to the singing of the early morning birds, to taste the salt of the sea

…the ability to be still – to be quiet, to find peace in solitude

...the possibility to be who I want to be – to do what I want to do

…the unwavering faith I have that the best is yet to come

What are you thankful for?

A political theorist in Athens

Having studied political theory at postgraduate level, I was expecting to feel exhilarated by our visit to Athens and the Acropolis – the birthplace of democracy and the most iconic manifestation of Western civilisation. And whilst it was certainly a very interesting visit – the Acropolis itself is no less than majestic – I was left feeling remarkably unmoved.

Of course, we admired the remains of the Parthenon, its architectural brilliance and its significance as a tribute to the Greek goddess Athena – the virgin goddess of wisdom, war, the arts, justice and reason. And, of course, our eyes feasted on the delightful views of Athens that we enjoyed from this privileged position high above the city. We took the time to picture plays taking place at the old Roman theatre, and to imagine the pride the Athenians felt in being the pioneers of modern civilisation (setting themselves apart from the less refined, more barbaric, classes of people).

And yet, somehow, I discovered that I feel more inspired (to write, to feel, to exist) by the calm that comes with the setting of the sun as it dips into the sea, slowly at first, and then – suddenly – disappearing so fast you’re afraid to blink in case you miss the last of its lingering rays.

I used to think that, in order to feel creative or inspired, it was essential to be at the heart of a busy city, rich in both cultural history and urban reality. London epitomised this very ideal, and in my mind Athens was guaranteed to provide the same sort of stimulus. Surely, the hub of culture and democracy is the best place for a political theorist/aspiring writer to flourish?

Though nothing like London, the chaos of Athens – an inevitable symptom of city life – only served to numb my creative spirit; the external chaos adding to my internal chaos, merging with it, losing myself in it. Taking the city’s metro (something that I was initially very excited about) only reminded me of what it feels like to commute and to be constrained – to travel, yes, but not freely.

At the end of an interesting day in Athens, I felt the most pleasure recalling a leisurely stroll we took through the National Gardens, which were beautiful and – surprisingly – very quiet. We sought refuge in the shade, and enjoyed the feeling of calm that cannot often be found in the concrete jungle of a city.

Oh, and there was that half a kilo of gelato that we indulgently treated ourselves to. That was pretty damn inspirational too. 

Show me the middle finger

On Monday the 6^th of August 2012 it was our very first wedding anniversary. 365 days as Mrs. Ballan. Before we had even worked out a route, I was adamant that the day should be spent in Greece – at a beautiful Greek beach, eating delicious Greek food. The only problem was that we were hundreds of miles, but only a few days, away from this goal.

As we drove through the Balkans, I was more and more convinced that our special day would be spent in Albania – a country I wasn’t very excited about seeing. Albania was very different from both Croatia and Montenegro (which were extraordinarily beautiful, each in their own way). Albania was rough – not just around the edges, but all over. The country’s poverty was visible everywhere. The roads were poorly constructed, filled with potholes and very often (and randomly) became unsteady dirt tracks. We saw countless unfinished buildings that had clearly stopped construction due to a lack of funds. Albania was not beautiful, but it was humbling.

Florian, of course, is able to find beauty anywhere and in anything. In this exhausting and difficult country, he found a lovely little place by Lake Ohrid to stop and have lunch. The lake was enormous, it was tranquil and it was beautiful. Part of the restaurant was even built in to the lake, giving the diners the sensation that they were floating. I couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful the ‘sea’ looked, only to keep remembering that it was actually a lake and that we were nowhere near the coast.

To cut a long story short, we crossed the border into Greece on the 5^th of August. I had been worried for no reason – of course Florian had taken it upon himself to make sure that our first wedding anniversary was exactly as I had hoped it would be. We drove to Sithonia, the ‘middle finger’ of Chalkidiki (personally recommended by one of Florian’s Greek friends for its beautiful sandy beaches and the fact that it is slightly less of a tourist magnet than other places in Greece).

It was our very own paradise. And we spent the 6^th of August swimming in the warm sea, cuddling on the beach and looking back at our first year of marriage – recounting all the wonderful bits and everything we still have to look forward to.

My wise friend Charlee, during a moment of despair, once told me not to worry, because ‘the best is yet to come’. I held on to this like an anchor, and still do, only now I think of it in both good times and bad. Florian and I have had a magical start to our marriage – 365 days of love, of fulfilling dreams, of making plans for the future – and, yet, this is just the very beginning. The best is yet to come. And so the 6^th of August was a day to take stock, as well as a day to look to the future.

 

We have spent the last few days doing much the same – swimming in the sea, lying on the beach, eating amazing Greek food and appreciating everything we have. In this state of absolute freedom, we are still creatures of habit. Our body clocks automatically wake us up at 8am and meal times are respected. Each day begins with a refreshing and revitalising dip in the sea, and each day ends with us gazing up at the stars (because our campervan is awesome and has a skylight above the bed) – and thanking our lucky stars for this feeling of unburdened, true freedom. 

All it took was a song

Some years ago I discovered the musical wonder that is Belle and Sebastian. And one song in particular - "Asleep on a sunbeam" - stayed with me. I would listen to it on the bus on my way to university and, some years later, on my way to work. Most days, this journey would be tedious, grey and rainy. London, in all its glory, would be reduced to a commute - soulless, uninspiring and monotonous. This song, though, would make me smile - every time, believe it or not - and I would spend much of the journey dreaming about going on an adventure with my love.

And tonight, here we are, packing and preparing for our adventure. Having given up our jobs, our home and life as we know it, we are embarking on a journey that will take us right across Europe and away from the mundane. Our plan is to visit Austria, Croatia, Greece, Italy, Switzerland, France and Spain. The initial idea was to explore Scandinavia, but we decided to follow the sun... and it's taking us south.

Follow us here, at Chasing the sun, to explore Europe with us. We hope to share with you our discoveries - food, landscapes, cities, inspiration - and much more.

Also, if you're interested in this life-changing song I was telling you about, click here to listen to it on YouTube. And if you're really lazy, here are the lyrics (disclaimer: you cannot hold me responsible if, after hearing this song, you give up your job, buy a campervan and embark on the greatest adventure of your life)...

When the half light makes for a clearer view
Sleep a little more if you want to
But restlessness has seized me now, it's true
I could watch the dreams flicker in your eyes
Lying here asleep on a sunbeam
I wonder if you realise you fascinate me so

Think about a new destination
If you think you need inspiration
Roll out the map and mark it with a pin
I will follow every direction
Just lace up your shoes while I'm fetching a sleeping bag, a tent...
Another summer's passing by
All I need is somewhere I feel the grass beneath my feet
A walk on sand, a fire I can warm my hands
My joy will be complete

I thought about a new destination
I'm never short of new inspiration
Roll out the map and mark it with a gin
Made my plans to conquer the country
I'm waiting for you to get out of your situation
With your job and with your life

All I need is somewhere I feel the grass beneath my feet
A walk on sand
A fire, I can warm my hands
My joy will be complete