Hi, my name is Tomomi.

It’s been a calm week at home in Paris.

I’m drained from untangling various messes at work and uplifted with an evening at the Philharmonie, a picnic on the Seine, and an impromptu purchase of an autumn coat that I saw in a shop window—among other joyful highlights like publishing my cycling trip report for Estonia, two Sundays in a row of long rides, and several solid book recommendations, given and received.

Someone asked me this question, to which I didn’t have an immediate answer and I’m intrigued to explore:

When you’re reading novels in your native language, what emotions are accessed or amplified (in contrast to English)?

Arriving home early Monday from Austria was a bumpy way to start the week. I re-calibrated with a few quiet days at home, and filled my cup to the brim with an active weekend, savoring the last weekend of the summer with different friends.

Tuesday was the closing ceremony for Greaterthan, an internal event that followed months of transition procedures by those who’d remained till the end. Hearing the hosts frame the occasion as the last time we’d gather in this configuration slipped me into a quiet, almost melancholic mood. Greaterthan has played such a big role in shaping who I’ve become in recent years, by “activating parts of myself that I’d not really played with before” as one person put it. While I’ll certainly continue to sustain and evolve many of the relationships, I’ll miss belonging to this group—this grand group of human beings who shared so many ideals, and incredible stamina for upholding the space to bring them to life. An end of an era.

I spent the first half of the week home in work mode, then joined friends in the mountains of Vorarlberg, the westernmost part of Austria.

It was my first time in this particular region, but I immediately loved the mountain passes, the mist, the lakes, the huts… We went on daily excursions, never mind the rain, and I’m coming to the realization that alpine tundra may be my favorite landscape!

Alpine tundra is a type of natural region or biome that does not contain trees because it is at high elevation, with an associated harsh climate. The high elevation causes an adverse climate, which is too cold and windy to support tree growth. Alpine tundra transitions to sub-alpine forests below the tree line; stunted forests occurring at the forest-tundra ecotone are known as krummholz. With increasing elevation it ends at the snow line where snow and ice persist through summer. (Wikipedia)

In hommage to that, let’s geek out on kit.

I’ve been building my onebag travel kit for 4-6 day trips in Europe that combine long-distance train travel and day hikes. Typically I’m wrapping a few days around the weekend to visit a friend. Since this is a trip format that I take a few times a year, and want to continue to enjoy, I’ve become deliberate about developing competencies and heuristics to make it as simple and comfortable as I can get it.

For the bag, a 26L backpack has proved to be the perfect size. I can slip in a laptop or throw in gifts and lunch without overthinking it, but it’s small enough that I can easily squeeze through a crowded station.

I’ve picked up a pair of light trekking boots, which has been great for times when I know we’ll be hiking, but not enough to warrant lugging around my beloved leather Hanwags. My cycling waterproof jacket works well for any other sport or as casual town wear—it’s become a piece of clothing that I use more than I expected.

For this trip, I pulled out an old 12L hydration vest out of the closet. I got it in 2015 for a marathon and haven’t used much since. Seeing the running vest category explode in recent years inspired me to try it for hiking and cycling, and I’m now sold on its benefits.

The key pieces of kit are:

• Backpack: Boondocker from Passenger
• Travel “purse”: the Yamatomichi sacocche which fits a phone and Kindle
• Outings backpack: the Oxsitis Pulse 12 with a 1.5L CamelBak bladder
• Jacket: Salomon Outscape for winter OR the packable Rab Phantom Jacket
• Hiking shoes: Women’s Trekker Lite III from the Italian brand aku
• Town shoes: Sketchers Slip-ins Reggae Slim in the summer OR sneakers
• Speakers: When I have solo hotel stays, I bring the JBL Go 5 to keep me company

Future improvements on my radar are:

• Buy trail running poles
• Try a shoe bag and strap system to secure the trekking shoes onto the backpack
• Add shock cords to the hydration vest, so I can strap on an extra jacket

It was obon week — i.e. my summer break i.e. time for another cycling trip. This year, Estonia!

A friend and I cycled 270km from Tallinn to Sillamäe, exploring Lahemaa National Park and following EuroVelo 10 Baltic Sea Cycle Route till the border with Russia. The coastline of the Gulf of Finland is completely flat, mostly low-traffic asphalt through Scots pine forest and a bit of gravel country road: very easy, enjoyable riding, with plenty of fun stops along the way—bogs, old-time manors, very cute fishing villages.

Off the bike, I was glued to two Sofi Oksanen novels set under Soviet and German occupation. That, along with the excellent folklore sci-fi and Tove Jansson’s The Summer Book that I’d read in the lead-up, gave me another way into a region I’d had almost no prior exposure to.

We ate well, rested well, and had no mechanicals or injuries. The weather was sunny, with a few cloudy afternoons, with temperatures around 20 degrees which felt so good after Italy same time last year.

We’d flown in/out of Helsinki, crossing to Tallinn by ferry (an experience in itself), so I even got to visit the Moomin Museum in Tampere before heading home.

It’s been a relaxed summer. I feel content and gratitude for the wonderful health, friendship and exploration.

This week I took care of a friend’s cat. It started a few years ago when a different friend offered me the use of their beautiful home for a few weeks, with one request: that I give daily attention to their cat. I had a lovely stay outside of the city, playing with the prickly beast whenever he allowed it, and came away feeling like the friendship had deepened. It also struck me as a creative, reciprocal exchange of resources.

Later I heard psychotherapist Esther Perel say, in a conversation about modern loneliness and connection, “We have hundreds of virtual ‘friends’ but no one we can ask to feed the cat.”

Now, I don’t have a cat, nor do I particularly want one. But I could be someone people ask to feed the cat.

So I let word get around that I pet-sit for friends, and over time, it’s become something I do a few times a year. A tangible way to practice interdependence with non-virtual friends.

Sometimes people are confused to hear there’s no money involved. I’ve also been asked if I’d travel to someone’s city to watch their pet. Or child, even. Neither is what I meant, though I suppose my intent isn’t the most legible. And since it doesn’t need to be, I just carry on.

I’m feeling content at publishing these notes 52 weeks in a row!

I listened to an interview with Tsunehiro Uno about his latest book, and he talked about the texture of one’s connection to society, as something in desparate need of nuance in today’s world of social media-fueled identity politics. The word he used was tezawari, which literally means “hand feel”.

The phrase brings a subjectivity to the idea of connection — a tactile quality requires a body to make contact with it — that made me try to put words as to why I’ve been enjoying my recent time in public spaces so much. (It’s not just because there are less people, which is the typical reason that Parisians give!)

In the past week, I had a drink along Paris Plages, caught a(nother) film at Cinema en plein air and walked among sunbathers at Parc des Buttes-Chaumont. The first two are summer programming from the city of Paris, the latter is a public park with lots of grassy areas for people to sit on.

All of these sites are free of charge. All bodies are welcome and you don’t need to be a certain type to feel “in”. There are some rules and expectations to maintain harmony, and little visible policing. Just by virtue of their presence, each person has a right to be there and to enjoy it. These qualities culminate in a certain sense of acceptance and belonging — a connection to the larger whole that the world online cannot offer.

I think a big part of building a life in a city is about allowing your body to be in rhythm with this kind of public life. To participate, as I mentioned last week, and feel the texture of living among other people.

Partially? related: spending so much time reading books is turning my annoyance at the proliferation of AI stink on LinkedIn and certain parts of Substack and YouTube into revulsion. I’m simply observing this for now, not forcing any changes or experiments, but wondering about the implications of diverging levels of sensitivity…

It’s not August yet but summer is in the air, and I don’t mean just the weather or the forest fires that are ravaging many locations in France.

I went to Christopher Nolan’s “The Odyssey” at the Grand Rex (70mm film!), the final stage of the Tour de France in Montmartre, and an open-air showing of Princess Mononoke at Parc de la Villette. You see these long queues and worry about overflow but somehow it works out. It’s like the city just absorbs them.

With certain friends we’ve replaced restaurants for long walks as much as possible. It makes for a great combination of meandering conversations, people watching and environment watching. Last week I went to Bois de Boulogne, where the sun has turned the lower shrubbery into crisp, and this week I walked up and down Canal Saint Martin, where people were swimming even though we were between heat waves.

I went through a wide range of books, choosing reading instead of exercise every day—a dilemma that I haven’t been able to sort out yet. I would never regret reading but there is some chagrin, because there’s another heat wave coming next week.

But what wonderfully eclectic reading! It’s starting to dawn on me that the more I read, the more there is to read. Books points me towards other books. Conversations about books and Booktube spark fresh recommendations. And whenever I enjoy an author, I gleefully pick up another of their books.

I made two updates to this website:

• Finally published the trip report for hiking in Picos de Europa last fall. It’s hard to believe I’ve diligently published these reports for more than a decade. Pretty cool to imagine what the collection might look like over several decades.
• Added a “soundtrack” section to these Weeknotes. It happens to be a literal soundtrack this week but the idea is to capture a memorable song from the week, as a bit of texture. Will see how often I’m able to use it.

I got back to Paris mid-week after a stopover in Toulouse to catch up with a friend. I’m glad to be home, and the thought of a few quiet weeks here, on the wings of what was a stimulating stay in the Ariège, makes me happy. Between the near-daily cycling expeditions and small-town socializing, there had been several “firsts” that I said yes to when the opportunity arose. I’ve brought some of that momentum home: I’ve ordered a few (more) books about the region, written down recipes I want to try, and already did some cycling and yoga to continue the athletic kick.

I made some upgrades to this site, which I’ve come to enjoy the last few months in a hobby kind of mood, like tinkering with a car. The Fitness section is a bit more visual and motivating now, and the Book section is a bit more robust with caching and catching API failures.

I started building a private journal webapp that would hook up with iA Writer (for editing), but abandoned the webapp part after half a day in favor of using just iA Writer itself. Let’s see how it goes…

I’ve had a very nice week, despite the heat, which basically prohibits any serious outdoor activity between 11am-8pm. I even sent a Postcard, which always feels good!

• Cheered on a stage of the Tour de France in Foix. I had a big swag haul from the caravans, thanks to strategic positioning from a friend in the know. Lots of hats and not one but two LeClerc t-shirts, which shall be my pajamas for the next few years. I look forward to catching the final stage in Paris in a few weeks, too.

• Enjoyed a few lunches and dinners with a neighbor, who cooked civet de singulier (wild boar stew) and braised trout, hunted and fished by his friends in the area. Super delicious.

• Visited the Cave of Niaux, where you can go deep into the cave to see prehistoric signs and drawings of animals before the Ice Age. Our guide sang a song in the pitch black so we could experience the reverberations, which is likely the reason so much of the art is here. Some of the drawings incorporated rock formations into their shape, so it looks like the animals are moving as the fire flickers (or flashlight, in our case). It’s quite extraordinary. And cold, too, at 12 degrees. I had to borrow a jacket!

• Went on bicycle rides almost every day, each about 2hrs in the early morning or late evenings, on roads that are known to me from previous trips. Choosing consistency and pleasure over bigger adventures…

A highly satisfactory week, with a reprieve from the heat (thank goodness) and Oriana in town to run “Patterns of Trust” workshops from the Emotions at Work repertoire. Major kudos to our client contact for creating and protecting the breathing space in their organization for a topic like this — I don’t take it lightly, and felt both joyful and relieved that all of the participants seemed to get a lot out of our time together. They were present in the moment, and the quality of listening, thinking and connecting that happened in the room felt really good.

Outside of the workshops, it was also fun to enjoy the city with Oriana. We organically had lots of walking meetings as we dipped into cafes, bars and parks. As usual when we have this kind of spaciousness, there were breakthroughs in what we’re prioritizing and how we make decisions. I hope we find more in-person work in Paris, so that she can visit again!

On the weekend, I took the train down to Toulouse, then further south to the town of Tarascon-sur-Ariège in the French Pyrenees. This is my favorite place in France to work / cycle / rest. Even though we’re in for another two weeks of heat wave, I’m looking forward to a change of pace.