Watching a documentary on the History Channel about the history of sex in America. Fascinating stuff.
I miss living in Europe. The weekdays moved slow, full of class, homework, and things to do. Yet somehow I would wake up early on Friday morning and it was time to set out on an adventure in a different country, a different part of the continent. So many places to see and things to do. Even if it meant catching the 4:20 AM train from Lausanne to Geneva, I looked forward to every new adventure, every new city. The constant movement wore me out, it made me tired, sometimes irritable, but inexplicably happy as well. Now that I’m stuck in one place, in limbo this summer between home and my final year of college, I’ve realized how much travel is within who I am. I miss the movement, the expectations, the mystery, the unknown. I miss those trips that formed bonds that nothing could severe. I miss standing in a foreign city, completely taken aback by all that surrounds me. I miss seeing glory in God’s creation in the Swiss Alps and Lac Leman. I yearn for this past year, a year that challenged me in ways I never imagined, a year that changed my perspective, a year that truly changed my life. Lausanne will always mean love.