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You love travel. You love the senses of your adventure to lose their bounds amidst the revelations of new things. You love to bask in minority, in the ages of time passed. You love to hear everything, yet understand as little as possible, finding yourself alone, but surrounded by culture. You love to feel a part of it, yet somehow divided from it. You love to travel, yet you seek that isolated experience distinct from the connotations drawn upon like a child’s coloring book of the common tourist. So how do you do it? How do you travel and find your cultural crevasse of invisibility? One way is to go winter. Go winter. That’s what we did. Our family of four (two parents, two siblings) checked the local temperature. We checked the temp abroad—a Parisian temp registering a similar 40 degrees Fahrenheit—and in the midst of a Pacific Northwest winter we packed up and headed to France. We found what we loved. |