I wish I was European

Today it's raining and that makes me nostalgic. It makes me ache to travel. It makes me dream big dreams and simultaneously want to curl up and read great and wondrous things that were once other's dreams. A few days ago I was cleaning out my e-mail and found an e-mail that I sent myself two weeks after our trip to France back in 2010...here it is.

a photo from our trip to Annecy, France in October 2010

I wish I was from Europe. Better yet, I wish I was French. Really, I wish I was anything but American. I know that sounds harsh. And I know that as an American I am blessed to be in a country where I’m free. But the French way seems so romantic and whimsical, so healthy, comfortable, and simple, yet indulgent, glamorous and extravagant.  I wish our culture embraced biking, walking, and trains. I wish there was a bakery on every corner selling mouth-watering pastries and tiny-but-mighty espressos. I wish we cared about fashion and appearance, but not in a superficial glittery way, but in the way that every occasion warrants high heels and fancy scarves (not once did I see a French person wearing a t-shirt or tennis shoes).I wish we would value quality over quantity and could not just appreciate but love a meal out that takes up an entire evening rather than the normal 1 hour turn-and-burn method most restaurants in the states have. I wish we valued deep meaningful friendships, warm embraces and a kiss on each cheek upon greeting and I wish we could drink delicious bordeaux and pinot noir on a week night for under $10. I wish I was European.