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When I wander the streets of a foreign country I always feel at peace. This is mostly due to the anonymity of being in a place where you don’t speak their language and they don’t, for the most part, speak yours. I love to meander the streets and listen. I know not what they are saying, or pick up fragments, but non of it really matters. I am there to experience and to absorb. I watch for all intense and purposes and simply become a fly on a wall of international happenings. 

I love this because I am able to wander and become lost in a culture that just assumes I am one of them and then I am allowed to just be. Even if people approach me and start speaking to me, I am always quickly left alone when I share that I do not know their language. Or, if I do understand, I swiftly acknowledge them and answer their question. This happened at the train station here in Paris and some Americans asked me if they were on the correct train in French and I answered them without acknowledging I knew what they were saying after they stood in line behind me. 

Such a pleasure in given space to walk in a land where you observe and become part of the culture simply by existing in it. The joy of getting lost in a foreign land and permitted to simply just be and do. How glorious a luxury is that for an introvert. Walking through your day without the bother of a question or pull of conversation. The joy of anonymity and space. The joy of travel.

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