in which becca and brent go to istanbul

saint sebastian (october) / rodez (february)

I hate packing, so I am not doing it. Yes, I am leaving tomorrow morning. Yes, I should have done it already. But it is difficult to sort out the small amount of things that fit in my backpack. I am prepared to wear the same two sweaters every day for two weeks. For the sake of fitting other important things. For example, my knitting. And Thomas Merton.

This past week, Paca and Mino were here (Micka's parents) helping to take care of the house, since Micka and Corinne were off skiing. They are both in their 80's, both hard of hearing, and both just yell instead of talking at normal volume. I believe Mino has always done this, not just because of her old ears, but because she had like 7 brothers and sisters, and you have to be loud to be heard in families like that. Paca reads a newspaper in English every day, and also he freaks out about bread. "ISN'T THERE ANY BREAD IN THIS HOUSE???" knowing full well there are two loaves in a basket just out of reach. During the war, there was never enough bread. Now, in Paca's household, there is always too much bread. I think at one point while they were here, there were about 4 loaves in the bread basket. One for each person currently staying in the house. None of us even eat that much bread, really. Especially not for French folks. Mino told me the other day that in about a week, she and Paca will have been married for 62 years. Well done, you two.

While Brent and I were in Spain, we bought a disposable camera, and he just got it developed the other day. I think we'll do it again in Istanbul....there is something really charming, and maybe even truer, about the gritty quality and weird lighting in disposable camera photos. And also you forget about them for a while, and then all of a sudden, there are your memories. Digital is too instantaneous. I've always preferred film, but my poor old Nikon doesn't seem to want to re-close the shutter anymore...