Puerto Rico

Mr. CT Lawyer and I went to Puerto Rico about 2 months ago with his friends for a birthday celebration. A lot has happened since then (my mom passed as soon as I returned) and it feels like ages ago, but it was such a wonderful trip I want to make sure I document somewhere, so if I forget again that I went, I have this place as a reminder.

I arrived in San Juan late and after a turbulent flight. I wanted badly to sleep in for a long tim - and the rain before, during, and after our trip beckoned me - but we had a flight the next day to another island in the region, the naturally beautiful Vieques. Luckily, when we woke up and looked out the window, the mess of the constant rain and annoying flights were erased by the opulent blue we saw at the resort's beach, and all across the horizon.

The next morning, we grabbed our backpacks and took a cab to the small domestic airport in the middle of town. There, we were placed on scales and assigned one of the 7 seats available on the prop plane we were taking to get to Vieques.

A note to appreciate the tiny prop plane we took - our trip there was a delightful float to Vieques. We were below cloud level the whole time, and our 30-minute trip was a wonderful tour of the coast of San Juan and the dazzling blue waters that surround it. Our older pilot was a real gentleman type (with the coiffed hair and dress all in the appropriate classiness), and our little noisy plane dutifully tooted over to Vieques with his attentive switching of switches and watching the radar screen. The flight back, on the other hand, was turbulent and like being in a toy boat during a storm, rocking and zigzagging in the air while we beat the rain and rough low clouds. One of the ladies on the flight back got sick and I prayed for an emergency landing the whole 30 minutes in the air.

Anyways, Vieques.

Vieques is an island that boasts being the least touched by the modern world in a bunch of places (save the nuclear testing happening on one end of the island that kind of ruined parts of the island off limits to others), and we loved it for that. We arrived at the little airport to a beautiful smell of tropical trees and fresh rain, with the temperature being lower than the main island. We took a cab and drove to Esperanza on the southern side of the island (where the small tourist town was) and admired the lush green going past us as we drove. Vieques has a large National Park on it, but even the area where we were staying felt peacefully rural and low key. The roads aren't repaved because of the stormwater runoff impacting the beaches, and there is not a lot of light pollution. There are (what I believe are wild) horses roaming the streets of the tourist area, chilling out in a truly laid back beachy vibe that encompasses the whole island. For the very brief day we visited, we loved it!

Our Airbnb wasn't much to write about, so I won't. And it was raining a lot while we were there so I won't go too much into the tourism there for the one night we stayed there, for there wasn't much that we did or ate (except at a little joint named El Rancho Choli, where we were given tasty but huge portions of local pork and rice).

We were in Vieques for a very specific reason: bioluminescence. I have wanted to see bioluminescent waters for a while (since I found out about them, probably), and Vieques is supposed to be one of the best places in the world to see them. So when Mr. CT Lawyer mentioned his friends trip to PR, I almost immediately started to research how to kayak in the bioluminescent bays. We were fortunate that we were in the area for the appropriate time of the month (during a new moon), or else all of our trips would have been for naught. And apparently Vieques can fill up quickly, so we were extra lucky we booked it so early on so as to avoid missing out.

The evening we arrived, we went to a green store and waited for a bus to drive us to the bay for the kayaking experience. We had hired a local eco-tour group (Jak Water Sports), which turned out to be at our benefit as they only do small groups and use minimal light while we are on the water. The friendly staff got us ready to go and rocked us down the rocky road to the water, and at 8pm we headed off into our partner kayaks to experience the bioluminescent plankton.

At first, we didn't think much of the water that lit up gently while we touched our paddles onto it, but the further we got from the beach, the water sparkled like stars around us. We had a glass bottom kayak, and we could see the little glowing specks rushing past us like we were traveling through space at great speeds. We put our hands in the water and they would be covered in twinkling stars. I threw water on my partner and his back shimmered. And we had perfect timing because as we started to kayak back to the beach the rain started to downpour; we were able to run into the bus quickly. As the rain started, though, the light flickered in the water as the drops hit the surface each time. Magical is the word.

After our fun bioluminescent adventure, we returned to Old San Juan and became standard tourists. I don't mean that in the sense that we wanted to be that way, but it was just easier to be that way, because of our large group and our resort deal and the way PR works. There is a lot of tourism-based shopping and tours and places in San Juan - it was hard to not be a standard tourist. It was still lovely.

We had a day in Old San Juan, where we did the routine pilgrimage to the old and beautiful fortresses that hug the coast and tried to get a feeling of the town. We enjoyed looking at the waters through the 16th-century porticos and walking around the old architecture of big defense walls. We carefully navigated old cobblestone streets and tried to get lost down alleyways in a small strip of land that is Old San Juan. The town's buildings were vibrant colors and closely packed on the old Spanish streets. It reminded me of New Orleans a bit, only with more commercial than NOLA's artisanal local shops laced in between tourist traps. We were surrounded by shops like Ben & Jerry's, Adidas, and Coach - not normally what I think of when I think of Puerto Rico. We were clearly not the target audience.

Foodwise, this trip was a lot less gastronomic than many of my trips have been in the last few years. Sure there, were a lot of food options, and the pork and seafood were delicious, but we weren't having mind-blowing meals every time. Which was fine! The one thing I wanted to try, mofongo, my partner had tried before I arrived and had proclaimed to never wanting to try it again, so I didn't have a lot of time (or options) to go for it in the 4 days we were there.

BUT! We did have two awesome meals while we were there. Let me tell you about those memorable meals.

• Cafe Cortes Chocobar is my dream-come-true restaurant because they incorporate chocolate into everything. Take, for example, the chocolate-infused ketchup we had with our waffle fries, or our chocolate-spiced ceviche. And, of course, decadent chocolate shakes with chocolate shavings! The place was bustling, and we only got snack foods to hold us over for dinner. There was a line waiting to be seated before us, and it was worth it. I brought home some hot chocolate bars they had, and I have to admit they've already been drunk in entirety.
• Marmalade was our fancy romantic dinner date for the trip (because every trip has a fancy romantic dinner date), and we were both blown away by the meal. We ordered way too much (they offered dinners based on 5, 6, and 7 dishes - we chose 6, and were full to the point of popping), but each dish was delightful and fun. Most of the dishes we picked were rich and flavorful (our mistake), but there were a lot of lighter and fresh dishes as well. I had a very nice sangria, and finished off with creme brulee (my favorite). I had to walk outside for a while to get some air after our filling meal, but we already talk about going to Marmalade again when we return to San Juan.

Finally, a lot of our trip, when we weren't kayaking in Vieques or scaling Old San Juan, was stationed at the resort. We were, after all, there for a friend's birthday, and for mandatory relaxation. We spent a night enjoying a lovely birthday party under a colorful sunset on a vanilla sky, and one day we went to the spa for a treatment and massage after lounging around the beach and pools for a few hours. That's not normally how I travel, but I think this time it was glorious and (given the events that happened after the trip) necessary.

Delayed Swedish (Chef) Post

Vasa Museum

It has been months since I visited Sweden, and I have only now found the time to recall and describe my visit there. It just goes to show how quickly life can run away from me.

Why did I go to Sweden? Because I was attending a big conference for the global water industry - Stockholm World Water Week (aka, SIWI). I had bought my tickets to go to SIWI before I got employed, but I ended up helping out my organization while I was there to get better involved.

SIWI is essentially the Lollapalooza for water professionals in the world, where developed and developing country people meet in droves at meetings, social events, panels, and other conference-planned fun. Some couple thousand of us attended and took over the city for a week. It was overwhelming and wonderful. I won't be going into the details here about the whirlwind of the conference - just know it was very useful and that I passed out cold every night I approached the bed.

I was also committed to being a full-on tourist between conference events and professional moments. My partner Mr. CT Lawyer also took the opportunity to join me there for his own holiday, which gave us exciting romantic moments.

Aside from it being cooler in temperature compared to what I'm used to in August/September, I found Stockholm to have a quiet regality to it. Everything felt clean to me (including the youth hostels I stayed in when Mr. CT Lawyer wasn't there), and the city felt small and functioned without much fuss. I'd even say politely. If NYC was freshly washed and cleaned in the West Village or UWS, I'd say it felt of similar color to me as Stockholm. With that includes the fact that Sweden has apparently a culture (at least in the city) of late night happenings starting at midnight. As I am not someone who frequents bars and likes to be in bed by 11pm, I can't expand more on this as I was fast asleep, wearing ear plugs

I got to Stockholm a day or so before Mr. CT Lawyer, so I took my jet-lagged self on a walk through the town to see what was going on and how to navigate the conference before it started. It was rainy when I arrived (and throughout my visit), but I bought myself a small umbrella and walked through the business districts, through the ancient area of Gamla Stan with the palace and winding alleyways with old brick houses and customs houses, and back across towards the museum area. Aside from the bustling tourists, I found the quiet while walking around to be quite soothing compared to the hectic NYC noise.

While I'm not much interested in visiting museums while I 'm traveling, I visited the Vasa Musem that is dedicated to an old Stockholm harbor shipwreck that was resurfaced and preserved. It was a fascinating place that hoisted the delicate ship remains at the center of the building, with displays and stories spiraling down from the masts to the base of the ship's belly.

Once Mr. CT Lawyer came in town, we loaded tourist activities into our schedule before my conference started. We went on a mini-archipelago cruise, which for a few hours wove between some of the closer islands that populate the waters in and around the city. We also walked over to the outdoor museum called Skansen. Through our meandering walk through the museum I had hoped to espy (and pet) some living moose and reindeer who had such little interest in us humans they (understandably) stayed as far away from the edges of their enclosures. To soothe my sad inner child, we relished at the food court a traditional smorgasbord of meatballs covered in lingonberry sauce and mashed rutabaga.

We ate a lot of food while in Stockholm - probably more than we should have. All of it was so delicious and scrumptious...and sinful. I discovered pear soda/seltzer, which was so refreshing I am still actively hunting for it in the US. It was also morel and crayfish season so, of course, I had to try different delightful dishes with those in it to "make sure" I understood what morel and crayfish tasted like. And I ate some tender reindeer accompanied with a rich and comforting sauce a couple of times. One luxurious meal that we went to was at a super restaurant called Djuret, which I believe means animal in Swedish. There, we had a 6-course meal dedicated to one daily animal (ours was lamb). Each new dish was just as fascinating and fulfilling as the dish before, and I started to fully understand what people mean when they talk about food being a journey or adventure. We had a blast trying out the unique flavor combinations and admiring the stunning art of food. He had an applemust (like sparkling apple cider) that was so good it made me angry. I had a new glass of tasty wine with every dish and became sufficiently silly by the time we left the fancy restaurant - hours after we started.

I felt like a lot of the food was very creamy, like the seafood salads and all of the sweet treats, so I am baffled at how Swedes are able to keep their stereotypically lithe figures, considering all of that cream and butter put an extra load on my person. I spent enough money on souvenirs and delectable foods that at least my wallet was lighter than it was before I arrived.

One day we walked through Gamla Stan and found a lovely candy store that hosted an array of homemade taffies and hard candies. We walked in like children and gazed at the unique (to us) flavors of the candy canes when the runner of the store - a young a more svelte version of Santa Claus - came out jubilantly and sold us some candy, giving us free candy canes for "being good". Speaking of which, something I noticed that was fun about the area was that candy canes (called polka in Swedish) were ample, despite it not being the Christmas season. I had always considered candy canes to be solely dedicated to the month of December, but in Sweden, you can get polka ice cream from a non-Santa-doppleganger while sweating in a t-shirt and shorts. I guess, in my head, Sweden lived up to every stereotype I've ever harbored about it and its relationship to Christmas.

We also took a leisurely stroll at some point around the river in Sodermalm, where we found a hidden gluten free bakery on a quiet street, called Friend of Adam. There I bought a princess cake to try out. After my experience with it, I strongly believe that all cakes should now be princess cakes. The fluffy, spongey cake with the soaked up bits of berries, along with the light and buttery cream in the middle, and topped with a fun layer of marzipan was everything I could ever ask for in a cake. I hope you, too, get to experience the joys of a princess cake.

We were lucky in our Airbnb hunt for finding a nice place to stay for the week, in the southern city island of Sodermalm. While Gamla Stan is a quaint little tourist spot, and other areas are commercialized with shops and touristy food, Sodermalm helped us feel like we had found the "real" Stockholm - where people worked and lived life. We were surrounded by fun local restaurants and grocery stores that delighted and mystified me with its different selection of foods. We got to be away from the overly priced fikas and had pleasantly quiet morning enjoying creamy pastries while watching people stroll.

Before he left, we went to city hall for a conference buffet dinner. Along with many (many many) other water professionals, Mr. CT Lawyer and I found ourselves in an expansive hall that led into a gold hall that was covered in golden mosaics and had me gaping at the ceiling in between gulps of reindeer meatballs.

Mr. CT Lawyer left a few days before me, so I ended up having some time to explore more of the country by myself before heading home. Firstly, I met up with my online buddy, Malmo Martin, and we ate lunch at a cute little train restaurant and ended up walking around (and outside) of the city to help him prepare for a friend's bachelor party the next day. We chatted and joked about life while he patiently explained and detailed for me Swedish culture, politics, and current affairs.

The day before I left I decided to take an express train north to explore the old town of Uppsala. I only knew of Uppsala because of my appreciation for the popular book series by Stieg Larsson, but I am very glad I made the trek up despite intermittent rain. I started in Gamla Uppsala, where the old town used to be located some hundreds of years ago. In this area are three ancient royal burial mounds, which are hard to miss as you walk around and between the mounds. The museum for the ancient site was small and simple but well done. I learned about the occult linkages to the grounds, and they ended up handing me an iPad and told me to walk around with it outside as I scaled the old ruins. When I looked up, I saw the quiet ruins of a cute sprawl of land with grass and a church. When I held up the iPad and looked into it, I saw a rendering of a living and populous town hundreds of years ago happening on the screen. This made me giddy with excitement.

After my adventures in Gamla Uppsala, I took a bus over to the new town area, where the university is. This area was a lot more like Stockholm, and I mosied around and explored some of the university campus without having to get in the way of celebrating college students running around. I visited the big cathedral and the Gustavianum Museum, where I got to go into a creepy operating theater (the world's 2nd oldest) and explore their collection on Mr. Nobel and his famous prize.

I wish I had been able to write this earlier so I could have more fully remembered all of the pieces of my visit there, and perhaps portrayed a fuller vision of what I experienced. What I do know is that I am looking forward to going back to Sweden. I know there's more in store for me.

A Push Towards Pleasant

Haters gonna hate.

I got an interesting piece of anonymous hate mail yesterday about my blog. Apparently my admitted whining and moaning about certain things with which I don't get on very well bothered someone immensely, so much in fact that they feared to identify themselves.

Normally, I would defend or apologize...but this is my blog, and I don't have to apologize. This is my space where I can complain and have my opinion, fully acknowledging that it is all exactly that - my opinion. If you don't agree with me, or you can't stand my passing (oftentimes inconsequential) thoughts, then why are you reading the blog, still? If you don't enjoy my stories and sarcasm, I encourage you to stop reading the blog, for both your and my own sakes.

A Week of Mini-Urban Adventures

This week I've been preparing for midterms, so I have been running pretty ragged to make sure I get everything done and squared away in order to have a smooth next week. Let's recap, though, since last Sunday!

Sunday started off gloriously with napping and snuggling with Edgar. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Edgar, he is my wonderful, kind, and very soft stuffed bunny rabbit. I bought him for myself for Christmas, and I am so glad I did. He feels just like a chinchilla (oh, how I love my soft things), and he keeps me company at night. I might feel like a child a little bit, sleeping with a stuffed animal and all, but the comforts of having something to hold while in bed in a foreign country has really been comforting. Say what you will - I am not ashamed!

Valentine Soba

So I've a new laptop! Well, sort of. One of the newer friends I made here in Kigali (she's the one from Singapore) is moving on Saturday, and she had an old laptop lying around. She let me pay about $100 for the laptop, and I am so grateful for it. Sure, it's slow, but with The Man on email and Skype, he's helping me pare out some programs and defrag the thing so I have more space and speed. I'm hopeful. Oh, and did I mention that on the keys are Thai characters? Wonderful!

Why is it that as soon as I make friends I like here, they are all halfway out the door from Rwanda? It seems common right now that I meet expats I like and they all say "Oh, but I've only a month left here." It's saddening, and a bit frustrating, I'll admit.

Bits and Bobs from the Weekend

So let's see...another few days without writing. And a few things happening. I think bullets are easiest, but I'll try to aim for brief paragraphs. Don't consider it a "flowing" blog - it's really more of a splatter of thoughts here and there and everywhere.

We fired the maid. Already. Two weeks in and she's gone. But we have a new one, methinks, coming here tomorrow. Long story short, but the cleaning lady (aka maid) didn't actually clean. We don't know what she was doing, really. Well, she did wash our clothes. But everything else was for the dogs. And then she burned Denise's brand new dress with an iron, and that was that.

House Cleaning Bits

So, it's been a while since I last blogged.

What have I been doing??

Meh, stuff.

I know, I know. What?! No fascinating details? Really?

Well, I could give you a list of what I did the last few days. And I shall.

Some Like It Hot

The Man told me that for missionaries, the reason many/most missionaries leave the field is not because of the local population or the country they are in while abroad. No, he told me that the main reason so many missionaries quit helping others is because of other missionaries.

Well, Man, you seem to be right.

Some fellow expatriates (or rather, white folks) are some of the most ostracizing, unwelcoming people I have encountered. I went to Sole Luna last night for Trivia Night - an expat favorite - and I managed to be sitting alone for about 1.5 hours while swarms of expats mingled around me, acting as if I was completely invisible. It wasn't until Denise and a friendly woman from work came in that I ended up feeling warm and accepted by anyone there. The place was packed before they got there! I got there early to nab a table, but it seemed to backfire, as I became the leper in the room.  Well, everyone else in the room suffered; our team won second place for trivia and received free drinks as a result. I helped out a lot. Who would have thought that it would be helpful to know about plate tectonics in Africa? By the way, the only two countries in Africa with active volcanoes and volcanic lakes are the DRC and Ethiopia. And Beyonce has a horse fly named after her. Poor lady.

A Quiet Birthday

Today has been my 26th Birthday. Normally, my birthdays have included lots of loving calls on my phone, a ton of emails, a bundle of Facebook messages, a great dinner with friends, and a few nice presents. I still got my tons of emails and a number of Facebook messages, but other than that, it was nothing like my other birthdays. It was very quiet.

It's hard to be in a foreign country where your family doesn't want to call the complicated phone number and you can't leave on your Skype all the time for fear of getting charged a lot of money by the internet provider. And you don't know many people, and those you know can't make it out probably because of church or some other obligation, so setting up some fun thing (on a Sunday) isn't very feasible.

I woke up late on my birthday with my housemates already at church. So, I decided to do some calisthenics to keep my body's circulation going. And then I did my weekly laundry in the bucket task. And I showered. And I read and wrote emails from abroad. I waited to Denise to call me, and after she was done with some things she told me to join her in town. I went to get lunch with her at a little place that isn't frequented that much by expats called Camillia Cafe, or something. I had a fantastic juice/smoothie and a very good burger for super duper cheep - something like $10 total. In NYC, that would cost closer to $30, I gather. I always have a good time with Denise. She's a nice companion to have in a foreign country. And she can be laid back yet entertaining. Afterwards, we went to Nakumatt and I bought myself a pillow for my birthday and a jar of honey. And some rice cakes and shampoo. The buses are a huge mistake on Sundays - much like the NYC MTA, they are unreliable and change routes on a whim. And so I had an extra 2 hours tacked onto my bus route to town and back.

I had resolved to call The Man when I got home, as my big birthday present, but I had gotten home too late. He had waited for me for a while online, but because of the longer-than-expected errands in town, he had to get offline and do his own errands. I will be going to bed soon so I can wake up for work. It's really sad because I had planned with anticipation that I'd get to talk to him today on Skype, and that'd be my big treat for the day. But I blew it big time, and so now I can't talk to him on Skype at all on my birthday. I'm pretty upset with myself for this.

So, for tonight, I'll read my book and check emails and whatnot before I go to bed. I might make my birthday dinner peanut butter and jelly with an apple right now.

I've resolved to pretend I'm still on NYC time for my birthday, since I was born in NY. That way, when I wake up at 5am tomorrow morning to Skype with The Man, it will still technically be my birthday (at least in the US). I won't feel so bad about ruining my own birthday plans, then. Anything to make it great.

Kindness of Strangers

I am constantly impressed here by the kindness of strangers, or rather, everyone here. While in the US I feel that there's a precious few who are happy to help others even if it means going a bit out of their way...here in Rwanda, the vast majority will do whatever they can to help and please you. I've been told it's a cultural thing - Rwandans are determined to please and always say, "Yes!", even if they are completely clueless...out of respect.

There's always a smile on their face when you ask for help!

Every Day I'm Hustling

MTN Center

Well, I learned a hard lesson last night - never lend out your harddrive to people unless they swear to protect your harddrive to the death. Because, apparently, most people don't understand the fragility of harddrives.

I leant my perfectly working harddrive out to my housemate so that he could download the wonderful amount of movies I had on it. I had actually received most of the movies from my friend Felicity, who wonderfully let me use her harddrive. And I cared for it as you would a religious relic. It was a baby in my hands.

Well, last night, after he returned it to me, it was no longer working. I mean, it turns on, and my computer knows it's there...but the data doesn't show anywhere. I'm pretty devastated about it; there goes all of my entertainment! My music, movies, and books are all gone. Gone! What happened? Well, apparently the harddrive took a tumble from the chair seat to the concrete floor...

Friday Stress

Today started out very strangely - moreso than usual.

I woke up talking with The Man after some disturbing dream about planes. We chatted about life for a while, and he told me about some things that came up for him recently in his neighborhood. I worry about his neighborhood...

Anyways. I got on a moto to meet up with Denise so we could go to immigration for our visas. The moto was happy to drive me, so I got on. And then he missed the street we needed, and he kept going. Apparently, it's standard custom for motos to bring their passengers to gas stations (called "petrol stations") while they're in transit. And then he stopped for a while to chat with some of his moto friends in Kinyarwandan. I mean, there wasn't much I could do, right? I wasn't near where I needed to be, and he had my life on his moto to run over if I crossed him. Not like that'd really happen. But I like being safe rather than not.

Another Food Thought...

I feel totally justified in writing another blog post about food, especially so soon after my run-in with the super duper hot sauce du jour. Why? Because, I feel like I need to redeem the food industry here in Rwanda. And also, some of the food really is good. That should be read, the produce. So, let's ccall this my current ode to the fresh food of Rwanda.

About Food

Just to let you know, for the record, they don't put sauce on their meatballs. Don't worry - I figured that out the hard way for you to know.

Denise and I went to the restaurant next to our school for a snack after work yesterday. I ordered a boiled tomato and meatballs. She ordered chips (aka fries) and a half-cooked sandwich (she didn't want it half-cooked, it just came that way).

The service in Rwanda is to be found wanting quite a bit. It makes French service often feel more like fast food. On average, whenever I've been out to eat anything - no matter how small - it takes about an hour or so to actually get the food. And sometimes that doesn't mean you'll get what you ordered.

Trivia Night

Sole Luna Restaurant

Today's classes were busy. The computers for the students all need some major repair, which is kind of stressful for me, being the IT teacher. But it must be done! I thought my laptop had bit the dust, and I panicked! Fortunately, it's been working alright since I started to coax it into functionality.

I had my first rain in Kigali. The school rooftops clambered with the rain, and the thunder in the distance echoed throughout the campus.

Just a note about males here: many of them are aggressive. My phone basically blew up today with random strangers that I met or talked to very briefly wanting to bring me out. I am pretty much feeling a big fat "NO!" to any of these invitations, since I'm not wanting anyone else but The Man. But they sure are persistant. I've been given advice to just let them buy me food, but don't give them anything in return - that way we all feel used. I don't know about that... I guess many men here think of Mzungus as temporary mistresses. Well, clearly they've never met me. No, thanks. I'm going to be wearing a "wedding" ring from now on while I'm here.

A Much-Belated (and LONG) Paris Post

So, five months after our romantic getaway to Paris, France for our 1-year anniversary, I have finally come to terms that I need to fulfill my promise and write.  Better late than never.
Fortunately, Jerry and I wrote notes while we were there, just in case we didn't get to writing about our vacation right away.  Oh, how well we know each other...

Friday
We arrived in Paris around 10am and, as standard Charles de Gaulle airport experiences go, we got held up by a mod of flight passengers.  I swear everyone all over the world (quite literally) had decided that this was the day to visit Paris.  There was a massive bottleneck in the teeny tiny luggage trolley area, and we both got very aggravated.  We decided to divide and conquer for our luggage; we took separate areas of the WALL of people and picked our way through the masses.
I had forgotten that it is also standard custom at European airports to be introduced to the bouquet of European body odors.
By the time we eked out of the airport mob, Jerry and I were very tired and quite a bit grumpy.  And I was trying to navigate the french language for two in my befuddled state of mind.  Things only got more frustrating with the RER Station in the airport. The SNCF kiosk stations were not accepting VISAs or bills, so we ended up in a massively long line to talk to someone one-on-one; the line comprised of all tourists, most of whom were not familiar (enough) with the french language.  Of course this takes more time, because they have to struggle with hand gestures and pointing at papers frantically to get what they want. 
I remember those days. I don't miss them.
When we got to the lady at the front of the line, I prattled off what we wanted in French to the lady, who was happy to refill my Navigo card from 2007, and prize Jerry with a similar card. We were done with her in about 5 minutes, and within another 2 minutes we were on the train to Paris metro.  The train ride was peaceful; the car was full of bleary-eyed travelers, just like us.  We were entertained by an accordion player, and watched the banlieue pass us by. When we saw the Sacre Coeur hover over our train, I knew we were there.

Getting to the apartment we rented took some time. We had a few transfers to make here and there to get to the right metro stop.  So we meandered in the endless hallways underground, which Jerry referenced to be like a French moria (the what?).  Jerry's crash course in the Paris Metro was fun; he seemed amused when I showed him that the train doors open only if you lift a little release hook.

Emerging from the Metro station on the streets where I spent 2007, in my state of enraptured studious bliss, made me overcome with emotions.  I had felt like I had returned to a home I hadn't been in a long while.  Or like I was visiting an old friend I hadn't seen in forever. Ever since I got on my last plane out of Paris, I missed it terribly.  There were days where I'd make the Brooklyn streets resemble Paris in my mind.  And here I was, again, finally.  Back in a romantic city with so many fond memories and nostalgia.  And with my lover. I got verclempt.

Of course we got a bit lost trying to find the apartment, but after a little bit, we finally reached Rue de Canettes.  The apartment was up a few narrow, twisting staircase in what seemed like (and probably was) a medieval building with rustic Germanic architecture.  The studio itself was very small, and clearly very, very old.  It was a true pied a terre, with one small room that functioned as living room/bedroom/kitchenette, and a bathroom.  The window overlooked the small inlet street that brims with bars (like good old Cafe George) and a few restaurants.  We were spitting distance from St. Sulpice.

Jerry and I took a much-needed nap for about 3 hours when we got in.  We woke up to start exploring outside, and got immediately caught in rain.  Bienvenue a Paris.
We ran into a petit bistro called Le Pre' for a late lunch.  And we ate croque monsieur and croque madames with a little cheese plate on the side. Jerry said, "This cheese would be on some of the best plates I would have in NYC...wow!" I explained to him that the restaurant we stopped in it was just a regular, run of the mill place with very ordinary french cheese.
The waiter we had lacked a behind, and I remembered, ah yes...this is how French men are often.

After being full of a good meal, and after the rain let up, I made the executive decision to bring Jerry for a walk around my old haunts.  We saw good old Sciences Po, St. Germain des Pres, and walked around to see some of the places I fondly remember stuffing myself with a baguette from time to time.  We walked to Laduree, of course (being one of my favorites), and I introduced Jerry to the world of macarons.  We got 8 little ones, and ate them instantly.  Jerry mentioned that he never understood what the big deal was about macarons, until when I put a fresh Laduree macaron in his mouth.

We walked up to the Seine, and crossed the bridge Pont des Arts - we admired the "padlocks of love" lovers had put on the bridge fences. We enjoyed the sounds of French tourism in front of Notre Dame cathedral, and we walked towards the back and took pictures of the flowers in the garden, and the Memorial de la Deportation.

By now it was getting a bit dark, so we started walking towards St. Michel, where we stopped by to get gelato and Amorino.  Jerry almost swooned at its deliciousness.  We walked through the bustling Latin Quarter and I explained how this is where a lot of tourists get jipped on semi-decent food.  So we kept walking - through the arcade by Odeon - and made our way back to Monoprix.  We bought a lot of food so we would be able to cook and eat in on some of the days of our vacation.
That night we went out for pizza.

Saturday
Jerry woke up around 11am, while I struggled to get up.  I was feeling less than stellar and pretty grumpy (mostly because of the loud bars in the middle of the night).  So I started the day with some yoga while Jerry delved into the world of Lovecraft.
Most of our trip revolved around long, meandering walks around the city.  We both feel that it is a great way to truly know a city.  So, we walked around St.Sulpice, before stopping by at les Editeurs for another cheese plate.

We took our time and walked to the Jardin de Luxembourg, admiring the beautiful statues and peaceful flora.  But not for long. We got very distracted by a pounding music we heard ricochet off of the nearby buildings.  So we walked towards the Pantheon and found out there was a Techno Parade going throughout the city.  We followed the parade for a few miles, listening to the different vans' electronic taste (some were more industrial/gothic, some were more pop/rock).  We stopped by a local fromagerie and got lots of stinky cheese to feast on later, and continued following the Techno Parade, past Sorbonne, CLUNY, and over Ile St Louis. There was a crowd on the bridge, and I asked Jerry if we could step out of the parade for a while.  Meanwhile cops started to come over and prepare for what seemed like an ever-growing chaotic crowd.  I'm glad we got out early.

We walked along the Rive Droit a bit and talked to some street vendors about comic books. We then walked through Le Marais and got a baguette and croissants.  Jerry bought more cheese and ate on the steps of a busy photography exposition.  Of course we got more sweets while we walked, and Jerry tried some Berthillon sorbet on St Louis, while I found a place to buy some beloved Muscadet Corse.

Somehow Jerry finds comic book shops wherever he ends up traveling.  He's done it easily every time I'm with him somewhere.  So, of course, while we walked along the back streets of Paris, we kept finding comic shops.
We stopped for a bathroom emergency at a brasserie in front of CLUNY, and a bitchy old lady served us crappy food and tried to scam us out of our change.  This all started because I ran to the bathroom and she went up to Jerry to take his order.  He asked if she spoke English, and we were done for.  She was one of those crabby elders who strongly disliked Americans, even if for no reason.  I talked to her in french, and came to her asking for our change.  She looked at me and said, "What change?"  I looked at her very disapprovingly, and did the math for her, explaining she owed us 2 euros.  She finally cowered at my growing voice, and gave us the change.
We went back to the apartment and ate a plate of our treasures before sleeping.

Sunday
We took this vacation as we should have: as a vacation.  We didn't insist on waking up early.  We didn't push ourselves to do everything we could possibly think of.  We slept in.  We slept early. We took our time.  We ate good food.  I was so happy to not have to feel like we had to run around non-stop.
It didn't help our motivation to see things, though, that it rained most of our trip. 

We went to St. Michel for a crepe & jambon tartine (and caffe espresso americain for Jerry).  We walked past Odeon Theatre and scaled all of Rue Vaugirard (the longest street in Paris).  I brought h Jerry to my old neighborhood in the 15th arrindosement, after a long and arduous walk.  Much to my dismay, my beloved Shopi mart had been turned into a Carrefour City. Carrefour?! Pfft.
Nevertheless, we persevered and got bread and a meringe at the boulanger next to my old place, as well as a crepe on the corner.  Like old times, the old boulangiere corrected my poor french grammar.

I guided Jerry through my old running route and, SURPRISE!, ended up at the Eiffel Tower!  It was so much fun to see Jerry look up at the monstrous building on the esplanade.  We took our touristy picture (including Jerry pinching the top of the tower in a picture or two).
There was a family event going on at the esplanade, so we grabbed a few free things, and I walked off with 6 packaged bottles of water.  Was that legal?  I don't know. I'm American!
We stopped at Cafe les Copiers, which was clearly a tourist trap.  The foie gras I had was more like Spam. Jerry had an expensive glass of Bourgogne.
We walked past Hotels des Invalides, and back towards apartment to drop off our booty.
We ate Italian food across the street late at night. Jerry had great a Bolognese, while I enjoyed the Antipasti. We feasted on fantastic Tiramusi.
After filling ourselves, we came back to apartment to relax and reminisce on the days we've enjoyed so far.

Monday
I decided to take a much-needed jog, across the river in the Tuileries.  I had an emergency run to the bathroom, where I had to wait in line 10 minutes to go to bathroom at Concord. The door didn't lock, and people kept opening the door while I was in the bathroom. I finally screamed, "Frappez la porte!" (Knock on the door!)

We got lunch at one of my favorite little places to eat in the area, La Pre des Clercs. I insisted that Jerry get with me my favorite salad called La Viscounti. It was absolutely delicious, as I had remembered.  Chicken and pesto with cucumber keeping everything together in a neat little pile.  We had some white wine to go with the salad, and I got tipsy one glass later. We came back and took a nap.

After resting a bit, we went to l'Arc de Triomphe on the subway, and enjoyed more touristy pictures of us trying to take down and scale the arche.  We took our time and relaxed, watching the guards change at the arch.  We then walked through L'Etoile and down Champs Elysee and watched all of the tourists admire the concept cars in the boutique shops. We ended up at Angelinas and got hot chocolate, a l'ancienne. With the thick, creamy, incredibly chocolate experience, we were both lulled into silence.

After our lovely chocolate high, we walked past the Louvre and through the Tuileries. To have an omelette at Cafe des Beaux Arts.  We walked home very slowly.

Tuesday
We didn't leave the apartment that day until after three.  The jetlag was taking a toll on me, and I could feel an intense sinus infection taking over my head and chest. I stocked up at a local pharmacy on some homeopathic drugs that would drain me of the grossness.
We got sandwiches at Paul, over by the arcade, and ate on Ponte des Arts. Jerry enjoyed a prosciutto, tomato and cheese sandwich and a quiche lorraine. I pilferred his quiche.

The Musee de Pompidou was closed on Tuesday, so we decided to keep walking around to find another museum to walk through. We received useless directions from a security guard who had no clue where the Picasso museum was located. As Jerry said, "Given the use of both hands and a map he probably could not have located the museum if it were housed in a boil on his ass."

We wandered the Rive Droit for a treacherously long time trying to find the Musee Picasso, only to discover that the museum was closed for renovation until....2012?!  No rush, guys...

Jerry was fully prepared then to describe the intricacies of how much the French suck at restoration and take-out food, but looked at me and realized that I was on the verge of death. So we walked back to our apartment, ever so slowly.  When I don't feel well, my leg speed is the telltale sign.

I slept in the apartment in a drowsy trip while Jerry enjoyed reading and wine at a nearby cafe.  He went out valiantly to get me some take-out food, but that found, much to his dismay, most french restaurants don't actually DO take-out. I tried to warn him, but he told me he wanted to find something for me to eat.  He also found out, tragically, that despite the french boasting their skills at language and being relevant in modern society, most of them don't know a drop of english.  He struggled to find food, and finally found Japanese and Greek restaurants that, of course, took out.

Wednesday
I was feeling much better after a day of rest.  So we decided that Wednesday would be the Louvre day. We happily walked and stood in the long line to get into the opening museum.  The line outside the glass pyramind grew steadily as we stood there.  Clearly we were in the right place to be.

This was also the first day that the sun shone on us in Paris, and we were happy that it was finally warm, instead of cold and rainy.
We got our tickets for the Louvre, and headed to the Sully annex where we walked through the history of the Louvre section.  Jerry and I marveled at the immense castle walls and moat we scuttled through.  We joked around a lot while walking through the museum, and Jerry sang about being a little tea pot while swimming as a peasant under the moat.

(This is when you can tell Jerry wrote some of our travel notes)

Jerry noticed that, instead of having bilingual signs, or including transcriptions for each picture in widely known languages at the Louvre, they posted all of their signs in French. I tried to save the day by providing instantaneous line by line translations on the fly, in hopes that they would be understandable and Jerry would be able to get a better artistic experience.

We gawked at the Egyptian status, Greek statues and Renaissance paintings.

The Medieval paintings, we found, had three basic themes:
1. Virgin Mary with child.
2. Jesus crucified.
3. Saints of one sort or another, usually dying horribly.

We also saw David and Goliath, Christ's ascension, the Annunciation and the final judgment.  We both decided that the paintings were quite dull and unimaginative.

Other art pieces we saw include: Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, Winged Victory, Psyche and Cupid, Hermes, and "that French Revolution painting". We finished what we wanted to see in a record of five hours, and after seeing a bunch of Japanese tour groups crowding the hallways, we decided to leave.

We went into the Tuileries and I slept on the grass while Jerry read some more. We snacked on treats from the nearby Paul stand.

We walked to Angelina for another day of decadent hot chocolate.

From there, we walked to Palais Royale where we got the metro to Montmartre. We first stopped to eat some fondue at Le Refuges des Fondues. We had a hearty cheese fondue, and sucked wine from baby bottles. We continued up the hill via tram.  It was just newly nighttime, and we had a beautiful look of all of Paris below us.  It was incredibly romantic, and we watched in silence for a while.

We went to the Sacre Coeur, and decided to attend their candlelit service. We listened to French liturgy by nuns. It was beautiful, emotional and melodious.  We sat in somber silence and relished in the sacredness of some places.  I have always loved the Sacre Couer, atop its hill overlooking Paris.

After a romantic night of city-gazing, we went back to rest. And listen to elephants above our room.

~~~
Unfortunately, we didn't write any notes for our last two days in Paris.

But I do know that we took a day to go to the Catacombes in Paris.  It is always fascinating for me to go underground and see the world that some people knew.  It was dark and dank, as usual, and Jerry and I enjoyed a few hours of looking at crossbones and skulls lined up ever so neatly all around us.
We stopped by a Starbucks for an easy sip of tea before heading off on our way.
That night we saw Pierre, Nicholas and Pierre's wife for dinner at their place one night.  We at first thought we had been stood up, since no one was at Pierre's home at the time when the invitation I received online said.  So we wondered through the 14th arr. to find a cyber cafe, and, after much frustration, finally found a little cafe where I found an email of a frantic Pierre having just realized his blunder.
We got back to his apartment, and were greeted by hugs and wine, and wonderful smells.  His apartment is in a military apartment unit, since his wife and him are both part of the Ministry of Defense.  A charming apartment, with a view of the Eiffel Tower?  Not bad!  Luckily, Jerry got to see the tower sparkle before our trip was over.  We relaxed and chatted on old times and current events, while Pierre and his wife made dinner for us all.
It was nice to see my old friends again.  Now we are older, and maybe a bit wiser, and more able to appreciate each other's company.  I had missed those guys, and their heavy banter was so enjoyable to listen to.  Pierre and Jerry shared stories of Seattle and Portland, and I admired his wife's pictures of their travels around the world.
The dinner was absolutely amazing.  Real home-cooked French dinners are always my panultimum favorite.  And they delivered a glorious stew and salad.  The cheese plate at the end was so good I could have cried, and the dessert was a strawberry creme dish that was amazing.  I remember feeling so stuffed to the brim that I could have cried, but the conversation was too good for me to actually cry.  I was just immensely full of food and good company.  It was a wonderful night.

On one of the last nights we were there, we met up with Marion and Thomas, my dear dear friends.  I loved seeing them, Marion coming in from her semester at military school, and Thomas taking a break from his civil servant exams.  We walked around and found a little wine bar where we had some wine (and Orangina) and chatted about what had been going on in our lives.  Jerry was excited to talk with Marion about her military experiences, and I was just happy to be among old friends.
We ended that night by finding a little creperie by Odeon and eating crepes in the rain before we all parted ways.




One the last day we were there, it was raining.  Jerry and I felt satisfied enough, and took the day to relax, eat whatever food we felt we wanted to leave remembering the most, and reading.  We sat in cafes with tea/coffee, and pastries until the day was done.  We finished the outrageously smelly cheeses we had stored in our little fridge, and cleaned up after ourselves in the apartment.

The day we left Paris, of course the RER trains were not working properly.  Luckily we had left super early to get to the airport.  We were rerouted twice, and ended up having to take a 30-minute busride standing to the airport.  We dropped off our luggage and checked in, and sat in the waiting area happy, rested yet tired, and sad to have to leave our wonderful trip behind.

The next time we're in Paris, we'll get to see more.
This time, leaving Paris wasn't so tragic.  I felt better, like I had more closure and a sense that I was going away from Paris again, but it wasn't going to be such a painful goodbye.  Next time I won't be aching as much for Paris.  But I do still love that city, dearly.

Griping About Paris Before Gushing...

The boyfriend and I have been together for over a year now.  We celebrated by going to Paris for a week-long vacation.

Paris, to me, is an old friend.  I got there and welled up with tears, feeling my love for the area well up inside of me and spill over all around me.  I was so, so happy to be back in a city that I love equally to NYC.

Now, if only it hadn't been so cold and rainy the entire time.

And if only the French transportation unions hadn't striked the day before we left, so that it was chaotic while trying to get our luggage off of a conveyor belt.

And if only there wasn't a terrorist threat in Paris the day we left, making our plane the go-to for many foreign travelers.

And if only a handful of bitchy older Frenchies didn't try to rip us off or insult us while we were there.

And if only I didn't get very, very sick for the better half of the trip.

.....Other than that, the trip was pretty good.  But I have to release that all before I get into the details of our trip.  And I have to wait to get the details we typed up from the boyfriend...

Marseilles & Aix

Marseilles was a pleasant surprise. Except for the second degree burns I've received from its sunrays (and I'm quite serious).
Kendra and I met up at Gare de Lyon to get the train there. Surprisingly, it was a short 3 hour trip. We talked the whole way and excitedly watched the really really pretty scenery pass us by.
We got into Marseilles and easily found our hotel near the station. After we dropped off our bags, we went out into the city for a little late night promenade.
Marseilles is dirty, I will admitt that. But it wasn't disgusting, it was just kinda like parts of NYC where they just can't keep up with the litter. And it smelled like NYC a lot during the day, or like seafood. I don't know why people complain about Marseilles so much, it's really quite pleasant. And to add to the trip, Kendra and I spoke in French most of the trip. That was fun, too.
Kendra and I stopped first to get a seafood dinner at a little plaza area Place Thiars. I ordered a bouillabaisse for us to share. I didn't realize how rich and gravy-like they were supposed to be. Full of fish, yes, but not exactly what I had in mind. Glad I did it, but I prefer the bouillabaisse in NYC....
After our nice dinner, we continued our walk down and around the port. We found a bunch of memorials and forts and nice rocky beach scenes. The only issue we really had was that men kept cat calling us as we walked around. It was constant during the whole trip, to the point where we tried avoiding going anywhere with men.
We got back to the hotel late because we discovered these crazy cow statues all over the city, and felt compelled to take pictures. But when we did get back, we crashed.

In the morning we woke up late and walked to their L'Arc de Triomphe to catch the bus to Aix en Provence. We stopped by a Tunisian bakery first though because we were curious as to what the treats tasted like. We bought a box of treats and split them all. Let me just say that I'm never eating treats again because they are completely LOADED with honey sugar and fried. We felt disgusting the whole day because of those treats, and it was only the first day!
Aix was really really nice, too. It's this small city with really nice architecture and everything is close to each other. The town, I know, has been used in lots of movies for its beauty and quaint places. We walked around, took pictures, joined the market that was all around the town, and even found Sciences Po Aix! Yes, we even went inside...
But unfortunately, it was far too hot to do any extensive walking without getting completely exhausted. So, after a few hours, we finally headed back to Marseilles where we tried looking for light dresses to wear and ended up concluding that a nap was much needed in our A/C room.
We woke up in the evening and decided to take one of the local busses around the city so we could see more. We went by the beaches and saw a lot of rocky shores. The view was really quite amazing. It ended at La Plage de Prado, where we got back on the bus to the port.
We then went out for dinner on the port again. This time it was all veggies and salade and fruit for me. I couldn't deal with the Tunisian overload, still. We chilled out until it was dark, which is when we went for another tour around Marseilles, and we ventured to the other side of the port to where the Hôtel de Ville is. We got very lost, found some really interesting streets and alley ways, and concluded the trip with a view of the Cathédrale de la Major, which looks strangely like the Duomo in Florence. I was interested in the Italian reminents I found in Marseilles. Some of the locals stopped us to talk, but their accents were very strong, so those didn't last too long.
Got to the hotel and crashed hard again.

The next day we had concluded to take a boatride around the Vieux Portes of Marseilles. It was funny because we were the youngest people on the boat as well as the only English speakers. Another 3.5 hours of pure French for us. The French people, you could tell, didn't know what to think about us.
But the boatride was breathtaking. The view of Marseilles (France's oldest city, you know) from sea itself was amazing to see. We were going past these huge rocks and coves and the water was so green and blue and fresh! The best part was we would go to these coves in the middle of nowhere that obviously had no ways of car transport, and yet people lived in these areas! There would be a resto, a café, and houses next to these boats! And the beaches looked amazing, too. The water was SO BLUE! And the villages were SO SMALL! But people were there, we saw them!
Kendra and I were so excited to see these really paradisal areas that we started singing and dancing on the boat. The French people stared.
We got back to quickly grab some food for the trip back to Paris and got onto the train with our fruit and cereal. That is when we discovered our really bad sunburns.
And now my sunburn has turned into a shoulderful of blisters that keep getting bigger and bigger.
I'm going to the doctor today, this is ridiculous (and PAINFUL).

The German Invasion

Friday Friday Friday? What happened? Well, I met up with Joris for a while, we went out with his other French friends for a pint (which was a panic purchase on my end since I didn't know what we were doing). Then we went for a drink with his best friend from home and their other friend from somewhere.
Then I went to Gare L'est to get Felix, the German. The little devil that is like a brother to me.
I got him at the station, partially buzzed because I hadn't eaten all day yet managed to have 2 drinks before seeing him. So that means I was speaking in Franglish and annoying poor his poor German self. He didn't feel too well either, unfortunately, so we opted to eat at a brasserie near my apartment so I could have an omelette and he could stomach something light.
The restaurant was cute, but there was a half-crazy-half-wasted man making the most peculiar shrieks at the bar during our hour long meal. Disturbing.
After a nice meal nevertheless, I coaxed him into seeing the Eiffel Tower after the rain stopped a bit. Thinking it was going to be a quiet, leisurely walk, we started our stroll. Then we hit the Woodstock of Paris: le fin du bac. The Bac is the test all French students need to take to pass high school. Ridiculous, yes. And the afterparty has tribal drums, boozing teenagers, and rompous acts of negligence. Felix, being the old man he is, kept saying, "Damn kids...I'm too old for this...with their wreckless drinking...I just want to have a quiet night..." Which reminded me of a grumpy grandpa. So we walked up to the Trocadero to watch the tower sparkle. And within 30 minutes, Felix became well acquainted and rather professional with my personal camera, MUCH moreso than I have ever been.
That was followed by a long walk back.

The next day was started by a trip to the boulanger for some croissants by a sick Felix AND a sick Kim, and a stop at Concorde so we could stroll through the Champs Élysées to look at the concept shops. Felix, being the small-town boy he is, complained most of the day about the amount of walk I made him do. I told him to get a grip.
Metroed over to the Notre Dame area and took more pictures. Went into the cathedral. It was still pretty, but laden with uncaring tourists who were disregarding the notion that Notre Dame is supposed to be a place of worship. Felix took pictures. And complained about the amount of walking he had to do.
I made him walk around school and that area because I had to go to Auriane's birthday meeting over by Odéon. Sure, it was raining, but he didn't seem to mind that. I brought Auriane a little gift, and it was a pleasant little get together. Calm. Felix kept asking me, "This is the French way to paty???" No, Felix. I had this fruit drink called "La Vie En Rose" which tasted like candy! Auriane's boyfriend from England was quite charming, quiet, but we shared a nice conversation. Auriane tried to get me to slip into the British accent, but to no avail.
We finally left the bar and Brandon joined us to get dinner at this really great little place nearby called Del Papa. I'm kinda sad we found this place now; the Italian food was sooo good! And they thought that I was the only one in the group who spoke French, which is funny beause Brandon can speak circles around me. They asked for stories from my "doughnut grandmother", which left them in awe.
Anyways, a very fulfilling and decently priced dinner was followed with us stuffed kids grabbing a gelatto at Amorino's (of course). Quite a deliciously Italian night, if I do say so myself.
Brandon then decided to write his 3 papers at my place that night (which, about 36 hours after that, he's STILL here...working). He didn't do work, though, because Liisa came over and we watched "Zoolander".

Sunday we woke up a bit late, took our time, and Felix and I finally sally forthed to Le Louvre. It rained all day, but it was alright because Felix wanted to spend HOURS in there. Now, remember, I've been there 7 times about now, and I've walked through most of it, but Felix wanted to see it ALL. Twice. Mind you, I'm very sick with a sinus infection now, with no food in the system. It was hard to stay standing, let's say that much. By the end of it, I was glad that the museum closed earlier than usual because it forced us to go home.
Cooked some at night, talked some, joked some, helped Brandon with his work, and slept.

Too bad Felix woke up really late today and made me sprint to Gare L'est (because he can't function travelling alone) so he wouldn't miss his train at 7h24. I didn't get to have a nice morning with him. He made it, though, don't worry.

Ponts Et Galas

Yesterday was chaos.
So, I was running all around to get to things on time. Class happened. Kendra and I went to Angelina to drink hot chocolate, excessively, and to eat salads like somewhat decently good but not really girls. Ran to Rimi's to sew up my dress. Then I ran late to my dîner de conference with my French class.
We met at Pont des Arts. This bridge is where loads of people go to eat and drink with friends. It's basically a social bridge. Hard to explain. It's always packed, and usually full with very drunk teenagers and not-as-drunk older adults.
Anyways! Everyone (except me) brought something to munch on. We feasted on a lot of interesting concotions. Our teacher brought some red wine from his hometown, Tours (which we bonded over). It was a really nice 2 hours on the bridge, drinking wine, talking in French, bonding with my French class not in the classroom. Really cool kids. I talked mostly to my teacher (who looks 30 but is 41...which is why I need to move to France), a girl from Buenos Aires, and a guy from Slovakia. Lots of laughs. We talked a lot. Mixed up the languages a bit; Spanish, English, Polish, French, some others...I really really had a nice time with them, casually lounging on the bridge...until it started to pour rain.
So, I ran back to Rimi's apartment to get ready for the Gala. The Gala is basically Sciences Po's strong (yet not quite satisfying) attempt at making an American prom. Huge differences: It was an open alcohol bar, 2 club levels, an outside, and HUNDREDS OF DRUNK FRENCH KIDS! But more on that later...
It took Rimi and I about 2 hours to get me prepared for the Gala. Makeup, hair, jewelry...it was all a hot mess. We laughed a lot, and poor girl got really confused when she was trying to apply eye shadow on me....because I don't have Asian eyes.
I got to the Institute Mondial Arabe for the Gala an hour into it. The building is magnifiscent, that's for sure. The line, though, was 30 minutes long. I was all alone. Made friends with a nice foreign girl. We hit it off and joked about what we expected.
Finally got in, and took another 30 minutes to fail at getting a free drink. Too many drunk kids were more aggressive than me. Oh well.
I saw José walking around in uniform, so I slid over to bug him. He was not in a very happy mood, telling me that he didn't know why he came, that he didn't know anyone, and yet he had so many girls to dance with.
Oh, poor baby. No pity.
So we hung out for about 30 minutes or so. We went up to the beautiful balcony to talk a bit, but he was constantly distracted by other people and started talking to his other friends he found on the way. I ended up waiting for him to stop talking to others than talking to him myself. By the end, he implied that he was going to leave and that I wouldn't see him until next semester when he does exchange at Westpoint. Thinking about how big of a jerk move it was, I let him walk off with a group of other kids, and I was officially not enjoying the formal.
And my other friends there were either running and managing the night (aka too busy to have fun) or with a bigger group of friends I didn't know at all.
Luckily, I found Annelise the Australian girl I've known since the beginning. We we both disappointed in the night, but then concluded to go have fun downstairs in the club area anyways, despite it all. We found some of the other international kids she's close with (who were all moderately to extremely inebriated), and we ended up enjoying ourselves dancing and goofing off on the dance floor for about an hour. I even met up with the girl from the line. She decided we were best friends or something...
Finally, however, I concluded to leave at last. But the girl from the line insisted on going up to the balcony with me anyways. Alright, drunk girl, I'll humor you. So we go up, and I look around, and I find Joris! My favorite! The one working the night! So I went over to him, and he absolutely made my night. He was excited to see me, was the first person to tell me I looked nice ("Looking cute!" is what he said, and that I looked like Carrie from "Sex In The City" --a New York woman -- to be honest) and talked with me. And he looked dashing! He was taking time to talk to me, and I felt so cool. He was cutting convos short with other people to talk to me. I told him that I was going home then, and so he decided to escort me downstairs. He ended up walking me outside (it helped that he wanted to smoke) and we talked for about an hour outside
Saw José leave with some random girl, which he tried to skirt away from saying bye to me again. Oh, not cool.
I went home and fell asleep around 4h30, exhausted, and slept through my class.
Anyways, thank goodness for Joris. He made my night officially.