Ville-samkeit

Waldeinsamkeit is an untranslatable German word meaning “the feeling of being alone in the woods.” I think I need a word for the feeling of being alone in a city. I think, though I’m too embedded to tell for sure, that the good and bad feelings of being alone in a city are really just facets of one feeling.  Maybe they are different interpretations of that feeling. I am feeling it, whatever it is.

I’m living in a tiny room, truly incredibly small. It reminds me somewhat of my room in Switzerland, except that the utility of space is maximized. I have a toilet, sink and shower tucked into a closet, a refrigerator in the corner, a closet that provides a third wall for a pair of shelves, shelves tucked into an indent in the wall, shelves under a stool, and a desk, with some shelves. The coup de grace is the bed, which pushes up to the ceiling when not in use. The stairs that take you to the bed also have shelves built in.

Crazy as it is, all of my stuff fits in this room. This doesn’t mean that I didn’t bring too much stuff. Too much clothes, above all. It will be nice not to have to do much laundry, however. I might mail some of it home. I’ll have to find a post office anyways, because my friends will kill me if I don’t write to them. Since I’m currently writing my blog posts in Microsoft Word, I am not overconfident in the accessibility of the internet to communicate.

The threat of not having internet is a rather looming. I discovered that one of the movies I brought (Closer) has some strange defect and will probably not ever play again. That leaves me I’m Not There to satisfy my need for moving pictures, if I will never be able to illegally watch Game of Thrones again. On the other hand, I brought a small library with me to France, so I shouldn’t want for distraction. 3 ipods means Pandora probably won’t be too sorely missed.

And yet, I am still very uncomfortable with the idea of not having internet. There is a loose cable in this room that may be the one I need, otherwise I’ll have to buy an RJ45 thingamajig at the FNAC. I also need a password and username from the water-people if I’m going to have internet here. Alternatively, I can find a café or something, or use my lunch break at the water-place to check facebook.  Skype calls will be harder.

I know these posts are pretty banal but I need to write all of these things down so that I stop worrying about them on a loop in my head.

Oh, also, the kitchen doesn’t have any pans, pots, forks or knives. I suppose I need to invest in those. Or I will become a salad-cheese-mustard-and-bread-ist and not eat anything else, which is very appealing.

It is kinda chilly here, which I greatly appreciate. It barely broke 20 degrees C here yesterday. Feels a little more like home.

Edith’s half-melted cast of her face sits on one of the many shelves. So far it mostly makes me sad but maybe it will be nice later on. 

I wonder if I feel uncomfortable in Toulouse because it bears very little resemblance to Madrid. It’s unlike any other city I’ve been in. I’ll try to give it a chance.

Classic case of ville-samkeit.