That was a very strange feeling: when the train approached the familiar city that wasn’t my home. I hadn’t experienced this before – coming back to a place that I had lived in, even though just for a few months. It felt kind of cool. I must say that I love that I’m old enough that I can come back to a place I had lived in before and which isn’t my home country.
I went to visit Copenhagen last weekend. I lived and studied there for a semester a couple of years ago. This weekend was nothing extraordinary perhaps. We didn’t party with the Pride Parade that just happened to be happening that weekend too, or anything. But it was so lovely when a familiar face greeted me at the station and I spent Saturday and Sunday with friends I hadn’t seen for a long time, just hanging out, geeking out at pretty Charles Dickens editions or just talking about nothing in particular (LeakyCon, VidCon, Doctor Who, Dexter, Bones, House were mentioned, among other things).
I wrote this up while on the train back to Sweden, so please forgive my sentimental side, it always wakes up on trains, for some reason,