Nearly four years ago, I visited the lovely town of Annecy with my friends while we were studying in France. As I recall bits and pieces of that weekend, I feel slightly wistful. That trip to Annecy was simple and quiet and lasted for only a couple of days, but I’ve always associated this memory with the feeling of contentedness. Something that I wish I had now. Something that seems to escape me all too often. I suppose it’s because in Annecy, I was stress-free.
There were four of us – each from a different country. We easily located our hotel which turned out to be charming and in the heart of town. We spent the weekend walking through a bustling open-air market, debating which flavours of sorbet to try, sharing berry pastries in the park across from a surreal view of the French Alps, and all the while doing our very best to communicate to each other in our clumsy French.
Perhaps I think of this particular memory now because I am feeling tired and stretched a little too thin. Or perhaps it’s just my instinctive way of relieving stress by reminiscing simpler times.
Whatever the reason, thinking of Annecy makes me happy.