Coming from a very quiet domicile, the cacophony of a wide range of sounds is hard on my ears and my mind. Music from a variety of sources between piped in music, a cello and a violin, and a bunch of Tubas. Throw in hundreds and hundreds of people talking.
Moving around is difficult with the place packed with arts and crafts booths as well as food booths. People are milling about, looking and talking. I get to practice patience when people just decide to stop and talk regardless of their daming up the walkway. Most people are rather oblivious of their surroundings and when I’m trying to go from point a to point b and have to detour to c, d, and e just to get to b, I get a bit anxious.
After looking at all my food choices, my time to do the milling about, I settled on a crépe. It was good, though not worth the nine bucks. Ham, egg, cheese, and spinach. When they first handed it to me, it was in a cardboard sleeve that looked like a icecream cone. I went back and asked for a plate. Maybe I should have studied how other people at their crepes ice cream cone style.
I did have a great time listening to the Tuba Ensemble. I also got a chance to talk to several people that I had never met before. I knew I was in the right spot when I happened to sit down surrounded by teachers. The next person who sat down had journaling in common, though she has burned her earlier journals. I can’t imagine doing that. I have given letters back, but I’ve never destroyed any journals.