It is gray out – technically like Newcastle, but not quite the same: since this is not so far north, the sun doesn’t have such a sharp slant, and doesn’t feel as bleached, as pale. Clearly it is, however, still northern Europe, and not exactly tropical; but I am experiencing good bourgeois well-being, from that breakfast, from the dependable heating and water in the shower, from the sturdy houses.
The birds, in the courtyard of this old building, this nunnery – the bronze plaque says it was built in the early sixteenth century – were amazingly loud from about 5 am onwards. Not an unusual sound, just normal European songbirds – not like the strange, braying calls of birds in Hong Kong, which were so aggressive, so sensual – but these are remarkably energetic songbirds: perhaps because it is spring, perhaps because these trees, this sheltered courtyard in this quiet neighborhood, seems so perfect, to them.
I actually needed earplugs....
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