My life has become a travel novel. I am the embodiment of globalization and everything that is good about it. Until a few months ago I lived in a water mill. In France. Owned by a Swiss painter of Polish origin, married to an Austrian. And we were 5 to live there: 2 Russians, an Uzbek married to a French woman (she was living in Uzbekistan at the time) and French with his Romanian girlfriend. And it was a pretty good arrangement. Every day we'd go to school in a Harry Potter like environment, in an Abbey where we met at least 5 other nationalities.
And now, I'm in the Czech Republic, I still have the same French boyfriend . I live in another watermill with Czechs and Bulgarians. And I work in a French company; I speak English every day and talk to people from all over Europe, regularly. For me, globalization is just a watermill.
On top of that I'm in a different place every weekend, in France, the Czech Republic, now I'm going to Bratislava. Next? Who knows?
It's what I've always wanted, a life full of excitement, travel, interesting people, good food. And I have it now but all I'm thinking about at this moment is to go home for a few days in August. And make my life simpler. Why can't we be completely satisfied?
On top of all my dreams of going away, I'm homesick. I guess this is a sort of wanderlust as well. And I’m happy with this and grateful for all the things in my life.