England isn't so... so... in the way you think.  At least not to me.  I enjoy London immensely and when I come home, I wonder why the hell our bars don't work and operate more like pubs.  All of your art museums have bars in 'em.  This is an immense improvement over ours.  Taking a break from the galleries to have a G'nT at the top of the Tate modern is fantastic.  London is functionally New York, DC and LA rolled into one in that finance, government and entertainment are all headquartered there.  Great vibe. Moving, modern, international, going somewhere (unlike, say, Paris).

I mean, it's not heaven on earth or anything, but I enjoy getting over every so often.  Different than my usual routine.  You gotta get out of Dodge every so often.

Interesting. I don't know Italy at all but I'm pretty familiar with Paris and I can relate to the feeling. Well on a mundane note part of that post holiday 'come down' is partly due to a return to work or a return to routine but you're right in thinking that there's more to it than that. Is it that we see something of ourselves in the culture of those foreign cities? We're British but we aspire to a cooler, more reflective Europeanism? Perhaps it appeals to the elitist in us. On second thoughts, I'm sure it does. For me, Paris offers the sights, sounds and smells that I crave but are lacking in Britain by pure virtue that Britain is not France - and will never be. Don't want it to be! So if Italians dig London as cool it's going to be due the music and pop culture in which this country excels. The same young Italians probably groan when they enter a traditional trattoria or coffee shop back home – the type of places that would have us in ecstasy. Does it boil down to digging the unobtainable - domestically at least? An old school friend of mine of roughly similar tastes to myself moved to Paris 15 years ago. He still loves the French way of life but I know that he craves visits ‘home’ to British pubs, pints and the sarcastic banter, dingy bands playing in dingy basements and chips with everything. All the stuff that that we could access just about 24/7 should we wish to but undoubtedly wouldn’t.

Staceyboy

A strong emotional bond is created when we identify with things.......so in this case a country: its weather, its culture, its style, food, language etc etc. Start to identify with any of these things and, hey ho a love affair is in the making.

Its that certain whiff of the exotic, in an enchanted place where we have nostalgia and saudade for a city/a time/a place/another you that never existed.  Hard Bop Hank feels this when he digs a Claxton photograph from the Fifties, I feel the same when I look at those photos of Chet or watch Bruce Weber's 'Lets Get Lost'.  I have a longing to be at an all night jam session in The Blackhawk or The Haig, or a Sunday afternoon at The Lighthouse with the All-Stars, a strange instinct that I am indeed homesick for a stylised myth of 1950's West Coast jazz .

Everyone in Rio considers Londen, Londres as they call it, the most exotic city on this side of Sun Ra's galaxy. Exactly, the same way we think of Rio. I've spent a fair bit in Italy and Milan, well, its the Italian equivalent of Manchester.  The Italians dig London. And the greatest sky blue and purest autumn tinged light I've ever appreciated, is in Rio state in July and August. And yet all the tourists are there when it can rain for thirty days and thirty nights from November to the end of Carnival.  And all the cariocas leave the city at carnival because they can't stand it.  What does this all mean?  One man's exoticness is a another man's mundanity.

Same with cities and countries.

I've been living in Holland for several years and England, well, I don't miss a lot, but I do miss, the rolling countryside, the golden wheatfields, the country lanes and roads that seem not to exist anywhere else, especially in this flat place. The pubs, the beer, the County stand at Chester Roodee racecourse, the lavish supermarkets. Its not so bad in dear old Blighty....

Last edited by The Ace Face (2009-05-13 14:01:43)

As Wichita Falls, So Falls Wichita Falls

As Glen Campbell so eloquently put it "I am a lineman for the county..."

Yea, heavy and a bottle of bread, no?

A colleague of mine is presently inbedded in Marshalltown, Iowa, metamphetamine and teenage pregnancy capital of the mid-West. Truly awful.

Paris is great as a visitor but flat dwelling would not appeal long term.

Many of us are glad to get back to our homes after a holiday. Maybe you just get used to certain things.

I walked along the river in Kingston on Monday afternoon - through Canbury Gardens, the Thames footpath was looking tidy. Houses on the other bank had boats moored outside. A couple of swift halfs in the Boater pub and watching the schools rowing practice in late afternoon sunshine. Moments like that and you start to think 'Who needs to go abroad ?' Especially when a pint - which I really enjoy - cost less than 3.80 euros that I paid for a coffee(which I do not particularly care for) so that I could sit in a Parisien cafe people watching. A good pub is always better - for me anyway.