Yesterday I went outside.
I hopped on the 8:52 train from Switzerland and got off in Freiburg, Germany just before noon. There’s much to tell about the city, but in my head there’s nothing else to it than the cubic stone paved streets and all the libraries along them, because whoever knows me, also knows that the quickest way to get my heart racing is to show me a pretty journal. Now take that piece of information and put it next to the fact that a library contains douzens of said pretty journals – my heart was practically galloping by the time I got to the second floor of the first library. And the books…hundreds of books with soft pages, that amazing smell of paper and their beautiful covers, just begging to be opened and read.
The sad story is that even though I’d managed to convince my mom to buy me something (“anything, just anything pleaaase!”), I realized there was no way I could choose one thing: at first I wanted a book – it was even on sale – but then I saw another another one that I could’t live without and then another one that I just had to have and then I saw the “Books about design” section and my heart stopped and that was the end of it. So I just kept sulking from one shelf to another muttering something about one day having enough money to buy every single book and pretty journal in the world.
The highlight of the day, however, that turned the freezing my butt off the entire day and not being able to buy myself anything into a blur, was me finally getting to eat macarons. Macarons always seemed to me like the perfectly sophisticated and unattainable dessert – pretty french cookies in millions of colors – and I was just dying to know what they tasted like. They were being sold in a konditorei in the Basel train station and once I set my eyes on them, I wouldn’t leave without buying. My mother and I feasted on them while riding the train home, debating whether they are called “macarons”, “marroni” or “luxemburgerli”.
In case you are wondering, they taste like heaven. Especially the chocolate ones.