Luxembourg, 3rd nostalgia instalment

Back in Luxembourg last week, I took a long stroll down memory lane — nostalgia avenue? — crossing that marvelous 19th century bridge over the Petrusse river / rivulet known as “le pont neuf,” the “new bridge” to the “gare” or railway station quarter of the capital. (The French architect who designed this bridge, built an identical one over the tiny oued Rhumel in the east Algerian city of Constantine — the Cirta of Sansal’s book — something I discovered to me great surprise & delight when I moved there in 1976.) I had spent the first 9 years of my life in the “quartier de la gare,” and wanted to walk down the rue Glesener to maybe take a photo of the house I was brought up in. Imagine my surprise and delight when I discovered that the house in question was now called “Maison Berbère” and was a lovely, large Moroccan restaurant. I didn’t have the occasion to sample the menu this time around, but will do so next time I visit the “old country.” Maybe I didn’t dare go inside and confront the restaurant’s moorish style dining room with my memory of that same room set up with one huge long table to accomodate the 40 or so people on the day of my first communion (one of gthe sharpest memories of that room that has stayed with me) — the risks of nostalgia?