wanderlust begun

"i'm writing you to
catch you up on places i've been
and you...have this letter
prob'ly got excited
but there's nothin' else inside it
didn't have a camera by my side this time
hopin' i would see the world through
both my eyes
maybe i will tell you all about it when
i'm in the mood
to lose
my
way
with words..."

- "3x5" by john mayer

mostly, she was surrounded by friends. she would walk through the town and never fail to see someone she knew - dear friends, acquaintances, people she didn't know at all but who knew her. this tiny hamlet in the valley had given her a new family, and new eyes with which to see the world.
but it was semester break, and there was no one there. in a week, classes would start, but right now, it was the first real week of spring, the beginning of april, and a million tourists were underfoot. she gave herself this week, to be alone with the city, because truthfully, she was curious. what drew her back here everytime? what pulled her with more urgency than she had ever felt before? and if the city were devoid of familiar faces, would she still love it the same?

she walks along the path, following the neckar river, the sun aloft in the bluest sky imaginable. when you near the old bridge on a sunny afternoon in april, you get caught in a sea of tourists - chinese tourists with cameras clicking furiously, american tourists looking for a seat and a starbucks ("it's down this street and to the left," she tells one such sweating specimen). and at a point just before the old bridge, she stops, and it feels like a scene from a movie - bodies swirl around her, out of focus, loud background noise, and she is standing still in the sea of blurs. she looks up and sees the castle, nestled into the side of a grassy hill, looking serenely down at you no matter where in the town you're standing. she looks to the right and sees a wide cobble-stoned path sloping downwards, people walking and laughing, chairs outside cafes, cappuccinos and summer gelatos served...her eyes follow the path down to the end, where the old church stands, the one that housed both catholics and protestants together, many years ago. and she smiles, a joy welling up inside her. she knows every inch of this town like an old friend - she's walked every alley, in the dark, in the light, in the snow, in the rain. she's seen the mists covering the castle at 7 am in the morning, hanging low over the river as her streetcar rumbled across the bridge to take her to class. she kicked up leaves walking home down that street in handschuhsheim, that street which reminded her of those streets in her dreams, the ones where she imagined living, that october country before halloween.

every corner holds a memory, every inch, the smile of a friend. and as she looks around, she is satisfied - she is in love with heidelberg itself, and one idea pumps through her head at a million miles a minute: "how can i ever leave this place?"