John
> With all the weirdness that is part of visiting
> family and childhood landscapes, I think its better
> to be exhausted by camping in the Shanandoah.
I've been away from my home state for 12 years now.
Visits tended to be once a year for most of that time,
but in the past 2 years, I've managed a dozen or more.
Interesting that apart from my mother, and a couple of
really close friends, the things that hold dearest in
my mind are places. Not wonderful architecture, but
places for experiencing life.
When I go home to Adelaide, my punch-list of things to
do ALWAYS includes:
* a visit to the Central Market
http://www.adelaide.sa.gov.au/CentralMarket/default.htm
* buying dried fruit from "Ditters"
* coffee (and in summer, gelati) at "AlFresco's"
Of these, the first has a strong experiential element,
in that the rambling Central Market is always full of
sights, sounds, smells (not to mention the fantabulous
array of tastes on sale).
And yes, I do find the stone architecture of Adelaide
comforting in a way that differs from the pure visual
pleasure I get from the Sydney skyline and cityscape.
> We, the two of us who actually grew up in that part
> of the country, were torn by the visit. The
> architecture and landscape and some people
> interactions tell us it is home and we need to
> return. The traffic, the inescapable crush of
> people, the intensity of conversation, the urgency
> of the pursuit of everything, repells us. Family
> pulls and repells in microcosm.
Mmmm. Nice thoughts. I've always held the dream that
I'd go home to Adelaide to live again one day. But now
I'm wondering whether this is but a fantasy; that
long-nurtured idolised childhood place that migrants
promise their children they will take them back to ...
and then when they do, discover that they have
changed, and the childhood place is no longer what
they held so dear?
david
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