Parisian Passages Continued

This part was added as an addendum to my last posted journal entry about Paris in 2003.

*Remember when I wrote about us talking nasty about French people we don't like in Spanish? Well Corinne and I ran into these incompetant Frenchmen, once of which kept saying "Tomorrow" in English. I think that was the only word he knew. So Corinne and I talked about how we thought he was on drugs in Spanish. Then we told him our names were "manana" and "ayer" so he kept repeating it. It was hysterical.

*List of Nice French People*

1. Arc de Triumph boy was our personal tour guide and made our visit to the arc quite enjoyable.
2. The crazy man who begged the supermarket to stay open for us so we could buy dinner.
3. The guy who used his French credit card for Corinne.
4. The conductor who let me on the train and found me a couchette to sleep in.
5. The two young night train guys who told us we were beautiful american girls from the movies.
6. The people who would gladly offer a hand (unasked) when we were staring cross-eyed at the map.

August 8, 2003

Salut from Nice, France!

Forget Nutella for de-stressing; Nice is exactly what we needed. Cors and I were kinda groggy when we arrived this morning at 8AM. Sleeping in a couchette is not easy. I still feel the tracks moving underneath me. We made our reservations for tomorrow night's train to Venezia, and it went very smoothly. Reservations early from now on. We had some black coffee and croissants to wake us up, though it didn't exactly go over very well with me. Caffiene makes me too hyper. It took for-ev-er to find out hostal. We ended up walking up this huge hill. The staff was about to get an earful from me about their locationl; but when I got up there they were soooo sweet and helpful, and the place is an amazing bargain for what you get. I mean yeah, it's a hike up that hill, but we have incredible views right off the terrace where our room is. We are sharing a room with two German girls who have been there awhile it seems. They seem all right. They play good music, at least.

There is actual hot water, AND water pressure. Free (and good) breakfast and internet. Though the keyboards are a bit off.

The staff was wonderful and helpful and helped us with maps and gave us their time and attention. I love it.

Right now Cors and I are topless sunbathing on a pebbled beach. The pebbles aren't exactly comfy but it sure beats sand in your bathing suit. We are eating vegetarian tonight and making perfume tomorrow.,

I feel so much more relaxed and this is how I hope the rest of the trip will be.

Besos,
Kae (in Europe)

Notes:
*Toilet paper is pink in France.
*We found a NICE French waiter.
*Cors is a fraidy cat (of heights).
*We lost the wonderful sense of direction we had in Paris.
*I'm very tan.
*The old village is cute, but too touristy. (Something tells me i'll be using that sentence a lot)
*I bought a rasberry (framboise) liquor that can be had with champagne or white wine.
*Our rooms are adorable and nothing in the decor matches. Funky.
*Our Nice Pebbles.

Screaming into Space

I feel like I haven't written a real, genuine post in weeks and it's starting to get to me.

You see, i've been overwhelmed. Not just in terms of work, class, stress, ... but something inside me just building up, needing to be let out.

But where?

I've never had some large, empty space of nothing nearby where I could go run to and scream, dance and cry alone. Loudly. Angrily. Sadly. Happily. And know that only God and I were witnessess to this highly irrational and unladylike outburst.

But I can't. Because there are people, everywhere. So I try not to scrape my teeth on my fork, or chew with my mouth open. I try to sit with my feet in the foor and look at people when they speak to me. I don't curse. I don't cry. I don't complain.

But this just isn't me. I'm most comfortable sitting in some contorted fashion, and my teeth are just not conducive to quiet ingestion by way of forks and spoons and forget knives! I love to talk and eat and when I have to separate the two I get all confused and mess up somehow, and someone is insulted, or disgusted. I curse in Spanish so noone gets insulted and it feels damn good and i'm so emotional sometimes I wonder that if I started I should ever stop crying. My complaints are many, and they must be heard.

I used to fantasize about sojourns into the desert, and feeling the boundaries disappear-- the further i'd get from people and structure the easier to breathe the air would become. These suffocating ghost walls would crumble and fade. I imagined i'd be open and pour out, and the cleanliness of Nothing and Noone would pour in.

Release. That's the word for it.

I wasn't born with clothes on, and I feel as though the world immediately threw a pair of snowboots and a parka on me (not to mention a pair of longjohns and ski socks) and i'm just trying to remove all the layers. I'm not through all that mess of fabric and self-conciousness. Not yet.

But i'm clawing my way out. 'Cause I feel best naked.

The imminent need to get out, get loud and get naked is whats been weighing on my mind for months now. It needs to happen. I think it will. My hope is that, this place where I am going, or might go, is the perfect wide open space of nothing where I can scream out loud and strong and uninhibited.

Kae in ?

I think I may have decided where i'm headed come next month. I made a phone call today that really enlightened and encouraged me. It's a big secret though. I decided quite awhile back i'd keep my plans to myself until they came to fruition. Now i'm implementing that plan.

This may be the best or worst decision i've ever made, but i'm excited... and intrigued at the possibilities. As the person I spoke to today told me, this destination is my "fate".

May it be a pleasant fate.