Over to You Bandit Girl
Every so often, the impossible becomes possible: Somebody actually sends me a personal, gem of an email. Instead of spam, impersonal requests to support something or somebody, I get exactly what I need: A gentle reminder that, well, just read and enjoy! I met Barbara J. last Summer at the Black Women in Europe Conference in Amsterdam. We've been in touch ever since.
Hello Lesley Ann,
I'm glad that you enjoyed Zaidie's comments. By the same token I very much enjoyed reading your -
stream of consciousness, Bandit Girl.
In the dim days of the 60's I dreamed of living in Europe and so never minded being an ex-pat. It goes with the territory. It was a promise that I made to myself - to live for some time in Europe so that I could breathe without thinking of being black, first. I am a human being, first. If I could have redrawn the world, it would have been very much like it is today - without the constant fighting, of course. I remember my first trip to Europe. In those days we wore dresses and shoes with little heels. My shoes fell apart in Paris from the rain. I traveled to Europe with a curling iron in my suitcase. (yes) and 'fried' hair all over the continent.
I stumbled on to Italy and then returned to London, remaining there for six months.
My acquaintance with Scandinavia began some years later, when, having returned to America and working at Bloomingdales I met a girl who had traveled to Finland and Copenhagen and told me that I must visit these countries, 'because the Finns loved to dance', among other things. For years I traveled back and forth every year to Copenhagen and London. Every time I attempted to go to Sweden the Danes would tell me that 'there was nothing there' . . .So it wasn't until some years later, when I replied to an article in Essence Magazine, by a woman who had lived in Sweden, having gone there with her African fiance who had a scholarship. They separated, she remained and like you did translations, and taught, etc. I finally got to visit Stockholm. I had a Swedish boyfriend at the time and so my week was very interesting, as was my trip to Uppsula.
But, that's enough, enough. I haven't thought about all of this for many years.
As the English say, I wish you better, try chicken soup - it's guaranteed to make you better.
Best,
Barbara J.
Hello Lesley Ann,
I'm glad that you enjoyed Zaidie's comments. By the same token I very much enjoyed reading your -
stream of consciousness, Bandit Girl.
In the dim days of the 60's I dreamed of living in Europe and so never minded being an ex-pat. It goes with the territory. It was a promise that I made to myself - to live for some time in Europe so that I could breathe without thinking of being black, first. I am a human being, first. If I could have redrawn the world, it would have been very much like it is today - without the constant fighting, of course. I remember my first trip to Europe. In those days we wore dresses and shoes with little heels. My shoes fell apart in Paris from the rain. I traveled to Europe with a curling iron in my suitcase. (yes) and 'fried' hair all over the continent.
I stumbled on to Italy and then returned to London, remaining there for six months.
My acquaintance with Scandinavia began some years later, when, having returned to America and working at Bloomingdales I met a girl who had traveled to Finland and Copenhagen and told me that I must visit these countries, 'because the Finns loved to dance', among other things. For years I traveled back and forth every year to Copenhagen and London. Every time I attempted to go to Sweden the Danes would tell me that 'there was nothing there' . . .So it wasn't until some years later, when I replied to an article in Essence Magazine, by a woman who had lived in Sweden, having gone there with her African fiance who had a scholarship. They separated, she remained and like you did translations, and taught, etc. I finally got to visit Stockholm. I had a Swedish boyfriend at the time and so my week was very interesting, as was my trip to Uppsula.
But, that's enough, enough. I haven't thought about all of this for many years.
As the English say, I wish you better, try chicken soup - it's guaranteed to make you better.
Best,
Barbara J.
Comments
thanks for posting this lesley. Keeps my "Big Sea" intentions at the forefront.
Brook
the adventure continues...