Nothing to do, no set place to be, left this weekend relaxed. Recalling the massive crowds on the streets of a London weekend, I decided to make Saturday my day of rest. It’s well and good to see all there is to see, but if you’re heart’s not in it, then the point gets lost.

One of the themes from this trip has been re-creation; not leisure time pursuits, but the dedication to constructing again things which are no more. Museums recreate, even pieces of art recreate, the Globe is a re-creation of the Globe of Shakespeare’s time–part of the pursuits of history is re-creation.

Saturday, my day of rest, a day of recreation in order to re-create. Traveling out of the U.S. is a distinct reference points in the history of my life, kind of like wars and revolutions are in the histories of nations. After over a week of exploration, both intellectual and physical, I needed to re-create a sense of self. For that re-creation, the extent of my day was walking and reading.

Whenever I feel lost, I turn to these pursuits. Walking establishes a sort of physical identity; stepping through streets involves interaction with a slow-changing element of society. Both the park I walked to for lunch, the shop I grabbed take away from hold the qualities of the everyday. By observing the everyday in these places, I vicariously experienced the ordinary, and was able to bring a little bit of that back into my life. The lack of same-ness in environment didn’t work against my re-creation, but was a calm acknowledgment of the simple fact that life has changed. I may have been able to re-create a sense of peace and of self, by engaging in habitual pursuits, but re-creation isn’t repetition, isn’t a delusion of changelessness. Re-creation shouldn’t create anew exactly what was, or even attempt to, but should keep aware of what has changed.

Taking a day of my trip, not to experience other’s re-creations of history, or taking pictures in an attempt to re-create this trip for my future self allowed me to re-create my sense of balance.