Notes from My Travel Journal

I’ve just returned from a glorious journey to Paris and Barcelona, still a little jet-lagged and recovering from a terrible cold that assaulted me our last night in Barcelona. I’m afraid I was one of those people on the airplane we all dread: the one with the red-tipped nose and a box of Kleenex in her lap.

Before I left, I posted a blog about keeping a travel journal. Most everyone who knows me, knows I am a life-long, dedicated journal keeper and that my every journey is detailed, recorded, re-lived through the pages of my journals. I thought it would be fun to share some of my travel notes and photos. Here’s a partial journal entry from early in the trip, along with some photos:

Sunday, October 4, Paris

We see a poster for a Vivaldi concert at Ste Chappelle—an early concert Saturday night. Dinner at a brasserie near Chatelet, across the river on the Right Bank — Dian orders the salmon; it comes with a generous serving of the most beautiful green beans I’ve ever seen. I keep dipping my fingers in her plate and snagging beans. Back across the river to Ste. Chapelle for the concert which is scheduled too late to witness the sun through the stained glass of that magnificent church… still… still… just an hour in that stunning space with its intricate, complex, and vast walls of stained glass.
ste chappelleImagine a voice like the soprano’s, imagine as a girl, this is what you discover you have. When does it come and when do you being training and using it? I remember, as a girl, singing with the radio, with my daddy, and loving it, but what if you’re a girl and you have this great gift. Is using it the same feeling I get when I’m in the groove, writing? Or that of a painter or other artist when they’re in that place of flowing creativity?

After the concert, crossing back on Pont Saint-Michel from Ste. Chappelle, the river with the lights from the cafe, from the buildings, all along the way. Magnifique. Romantic, A lovely, soft night, people walk down along the river and the stalls along the quay on the Ile de la Citi side. On our way home we stop at an outdoor bookstall on Blvd. St Michel so I can get something to read, anticipating another sleepless night — I find a not-too-beat-up 2012 copy of The Indiana Review.

along the seine at nite

Each morning, Dian and I took our coffee to our respective rooms, lit our respective candles and sat with our journals, our pens and our memories, reflections, and impressions. I filled one complete journal while in Paris and started a new one in Barcelona. These journals not only help me remember my experiences, but, as I wrote them, I got to savor again the sensory details, and bring them alive — for the memories, for the joy of using language to describe them, for the record of a life lived.

We were traveling light — well, as lightly as we could given Paris, given Barcelona — so I tried not to bring too many mementos back with me. From Paris, I brought a water glass from Cafe de Flore, which I’ve been using for my morning apple juice.
cafe de flore breakfastMostly though, I brought memories captured in the pages of my journals.

Are you a daily journal keeper? Or only when you travel? Or just those times when you need someone to talk to and nobody understands you like your journal-self.

 

13 thoughts on “Notes from My Travel Journal

  1. Dear Judy,
    Thanks for posting. I am very impressed with the photo of Ste Chappelle. It’s magnificent! The river photo is beautiful also. It does have a certain “romance” about it…..Hopefully, you’ll something about Barcelona? I don’t journal and don’t belong to a writing group, but I remember the days when I wrote and the quiet gift of introspection writing offers.
    I have been to Paris, but not to Barcelona….
    Arlene Kosakoff

    • HI Arlene, Thanks for your comments. Because Ste Chappelle is so magnificent, it’s almost impossible not to get a great shot. That evening felt magical anyhow; a spur of the moment discovery of the Vivaldi concert in a beautiful setting that was on our “must see” list anyhow.
      Yes, Barcelona will be forthcoming in the next blog.
      I love journaling; it’s how I start every day, grounding and centering me and also helping to get the junk out of my head before I approach the other pages.
      Maybe you’ll get to put Barcelona on your list of places to visit. Hope so.

  2. Lovely journal entries, Judy. I journaled for many years but found less time for it as I began a non-fiction writing career and dabbled in fiction (2 manuscripts in a drawer). I always found it cathartic (as you say, your journal-self) because the answers that lie at the end of a pen are sometimes quite different from those that you ask yourself in your conscious mind. Somehow you just seem to get out of your own way and stop editing your thoughts.

    A cold is no fun on a trip, but at least it had the decency to wait until the last day. 🙂

    • Thanks so much for your comment Deborah. Beginning my day with journaling has been part of my life for such a long time. In part, I think, because I live alone and this is a way of talking to someone else (my journal-self) or reporting in or making plans for the day. We have more in common that our two fiction manuscripts in a drawer (mine are in boxes under my bed); my maiden name was Gray.

      • Oh, wow! I’m married but kept my name. Gray is also my maiden name. And I just discovered there’s more….I lived in Spain for two years and I also live in San Diego. 🙂

      • Sorry, missed seeing the last comment until now. I lived in Rota (on the coast) near Cadiz. I was living in England and moved to Spain for warmth! Very young, traveling around Europe as we Australians tend to do. I met an American in Spain and the rest, as they say, is history….

  3. You bring me back to the concerts my husband and I listened to at Ste. Chappelle, the amazing acoustics. The memory still gives me a thrill.
    Up until 3-4 years ago I did keep a journal on a regular basis. Then, it stopped. As did my writing of poetry. Then, less than a year ago I found a nearby writing group. Yesterday, there, I was introduced to you, and this morning I wrote, for 15 minutes. Fingers crossed.

    • Oh Joan, I’m so glad you commented about experiencing those concerts at Ste. Chappelle. To be amidst all that beauty and history–both in the place and in the music being presented was truly a memorable evening.
      I’m so glad you’ve re-found your writing through a writing group. And delighted to be part of that group however that happened. Welcome back, writer. Thanks so much for commenting on my post.

  4. Yes I journal. My grandmother always annoyed me with, “What did you do today of good?” But then this is the same granny who expected me to crochet. The other day while at my nightly (for now until it goes back to daily for some reason) journaling I wrote, “Today I supported the economy by shopping, and I did not kill anything.”

    Yes I journal daily but have to watch it lest it replace writing. It does that you know.

    Welcome home, Judy.

    • Hi Linda, well, those are two good things you did that day you noted–supported the economy by shopping and didn’t kill anything. Good for you. (I don’t crochet either). My journaling while on this last journey (Paris/Barcelona) did replace my writing for several days. But I so wanted to capture our day-in and day-out adventures and all the details of the experiences. Even down to the dog poop I stepped in while recording the sound of walking among the fall leaves. (something we don’t get to do much of here in SoCal.)

  5. Love that you share your journal. I, too, have been journal writing daily for many, many years – still do, each morning – if I skip writing, something just feels missing – it’s become almost a meditation time for me. One day, I may even read what I write – hopefully there are some bits that will surprise me! As always, thanks for sharing. That photo inside the church left me speechless!! XxJ

    • Thanks for your comments, June. Always lovely to hear from you. My morning journaling, too, is a meditation for me. Lately I’ve pulled out some old journals to read. Some of them are such a bore! and others are a little embarrassing, but so much of what I wrote is evidence of a life lived, day at a time.

Comments are closed.