Cross-in-Hand, UK – Rural Suburban Perfection

I’ve been at chez Karavias for a few days now. It is perfect. You know how, with most houses, there’s always that little something that you don’t like, the one bush that’s sort of shaggy and doesn’t look right, the off-kilter towel on the rack in the bathroom, maybe you don’t quite approve of the color scheme in the living room. It might be very subtle, you may not know that you’re doing it, but everyone does. I never noticed until I got here because that part of my head that decided what it didn’t like, what didn’t look right, feel right in some way, was completely silent. Everything was absolutely comfortable, beautiful, most things in an intricate sort of way, but done in a livable manner. It doesn’t feel like a musuem house, where everything is beautiful and arranged and nice, just don’t touch anything. Form follows function, here, and the living experience it creates is an intensely pleasurable one. When you add that to the fact that Nadia’s mom is an excellent cook (just now nice smells I can’t even recognize are wafting through the house), the whole family is funny, witty, and full of warm conversation, as well as the presence of a 50-inch Pioneer plasma tv, I really don’t want to leave. I think Nadia’s starting to get annoyed with me, as I’ve been saying ‘Thank you, again, by the way,’ about every five minutes. I don’t care, really. After Nice, and before the controlled, amazing chaos that is sure to be the rest of this trip, not only is this place perfect objectively, it’s perfect for me.