Basileia

The weather is such a vital part of our sense of home. Bernard always used to tell a story about when he did military service in the Côte d’Ivoire with a company of Bretons, and how they slowly realized that all the sun was giving them mal du pays. They were homesick for the overcast, rainy Breton sky. Of course, I was at home in Britanny for similar reasons. And though when I first came to New York, some plants looked outright exotic to me, I quickly adjusted to those, and don’t feel too out of place here, since it’s just a little bit warmer than at home. Of course, I feel most comfortable when it’s foggy. You don’t even notice a thing like that until you leave, but it was always foggy at home. I miss the marshes.

Then  there’s the land. I’ll always be for lakes, for instance. The ocean just doesn’t do the same thing for me. Of course, standing alongside Lake Michigan, you can’t see the other side any more than you could standing next to the ocean. But it’s calmer, and freshwater, with coarser sand on the beaches.

So, however badly I might want to go study in the south to get their sense of the English language, I don’t think I could do it. I wouldn’t survive that heat.