So. We returned, the two of us, to this place nestled so joyously in my memory, dusted with the sweet nostalgia that many of my age seem to cherish. (I know I do.)
It was...
...different.
Not this time. Guests eat, these days, apart from the residents.
We settled into a corner of an empty dining room, and - after a brief explanation by a very friendly monk - our dinner appeared by dumbwaiter. We ate quietly; the food was definitely not hearty or homemade; we loaded our empty plates into the dumbwaiter as instructed, and that was that.
We did, however, take a lovely walk up into the hillside, and admired the brutalist architecture from all angles.
It was an experience. But it did reinforce my belief that - in most cases - returning to a location rich in very special memories isn't always the best course of action.
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