Madrid

Crossed the border into Spain, no problem. Drove by some lovely beach towns, but headed straight for Madrid. Checked into the Holiday Inn just outside the city.

The next day we drove into the city and found a parking spot, but it was far from El Prado. We took a taxi, and it wasn't that expensive. Dad was really excited to see the paintings of El Bosco. They're really dark and creepy, but very fascinating. I can probably stare at "The Garden of Earthly Delights" for hours looking at each figure. Saw some Goya too and Velázquez. I love "Las Meninas". It's just so cinematic. I kind of like breaking the third wall sometimes in films, it's so powerful.Had late lunch in Madrid's huge park, Parque del Retiro. Bocadillos with serrano ham--yum. It was really hot. There were loads of people on paddleboats out on the lake though. Looked like fun. Walked to the car, which wasn't that far and drove back to the hotel to rest.

Next stop, Toledo!

pink's and beans

Went to the bank this morning where Mom made me co-owner for her safety deposit box. It feels so cool and old-timey to have a safety deposit box. She gave me a jade bracelet from her trip to China since I accidentally dropped mine on my Parisian studio brick floor.

Hung out with more of the fam-bam. Cousin Eric and his fam came from Texas and we all went to window-shop on Melrose Ave. Traffic was hellish. Didn't find anything that cool except for some flats that were $225, handmade and awesome with a freaking quote etched into the sole of the shoe. My kind of shoe. Took down the name of the designer just in case I win the lotto or something.

Had late lunch at Pink's--yeah, I know, very touristy, but they came all the way from Texas! Why not?! I remember my film friend, Phill who works up the street at Mole-Richardson, a lighting company, and how he stood in line next to Cuba Gooding Jr. No celebs by us though. I kind of don't care for LA sometimes. Like today, there were a lot of phony people out and people that you could tell just cared about their looks and the looks of the people they were with. Just hipster phonies. But I better get used to them sooner or later.

Late dinner back at the house. Steak, green beans from the house farm (SO YUM!), rice, fruit salad. Tasty as always. Had to drive back to LA around 11pm--that's my favorite time to drive around. No traffic, usually. It was such a lovely drive. All the lights aglow in the misty haze of smog. It's times like these that I love LA, when I'm cut off behind glass staring at it all as if it was in a snow globe.

Got mixed notes from the fam and cousins. Cousin Eric said I was "bolder". I guess because when they make fun and joke at my expense, I used to take it and not say anything back, and now I do say stuff back, so now I'm "bolder". But then Dad said today that I was "too shy" and need to "show off" more. Very interesting...

Bordeaux

Finally! I've decided to write a post on each major city visited on the Franco-Spanish road trip my parents and I embarked on.

Packed my backpack and met the parentals at their hotel where we caught a cab to Charles de Gaulle airport. We picked up a Citroen Picasso C4 at Avis. Dad was mad since they had specified for a Mercedes since he's not familiar with French cars, but they were all out. I asked Dad to stick it out--that it would be cool to learn something "new". He got familiar with the controls, then we got out of there.

Dad set up his GPS Garmin thingy, and we were soon on our way to Bordeaux. I got to drive, which was nice. Arrived at Holiday Inn Express only to find out that Mom made a reservation for the next night. The sweet girl working found us a suite at a Mercure down the road since they were fully booked. That was when I realized that I forgot my passport.

Ate a delicious, expensive dinner at Mercure. Looked like hell in my jeans and hoodie while surrounded by suits finishing up deals. Service was great though. I love how I can look like crap at a fancy place and still get treated nicely. It's a rare occasion though. Server was funny to Dad, "Can I suggest a wine?...A Bordeaux perhaps?" We all laughed, and Dad got a glass of wine.

Found same day round trip tix to Paris the next day. While I get my ass back to Paris, Mom and Dad would enjoy Bordeaux. When I got back we went back to the Holiday Inn that we were originally going to stay at.

I'm melting

Back in sweltering Paris after stopping off at Nevers to see the preserved body of St. Bernadette. Got into Caulfield mode or the "Caulfield Effect" as I'd like to call it. Sometimes I refer to it as that when something vulgar happens in front of kids and I want to protect them or when something is desecrated. Today, this group of tourists that came in on a bus from somewhere walked into the church where her body was held and one guy, and there was a HUGE sign saying not to, started filming and taking photos. I've never felt so violently ill or moved in a sacred place. Honestly, that deep, dark side of me that I never speak or write of publicly usually wanted to take that camera far from that place and all those people and smash it to the ground. You just don't do that type of stuff at a church.

Anyway, drove back into Paris, and it's so hot here! Thought I left the heat in Spain. Bid farewell to Mom and Dad--I will see them back in the States. Bought some wine and brought it over to Micefa, my favorite one that's sweet a bit and good chilled. Then made an appointment to close my account. Felt so disgusting because I was sweating from running all over and the heat, and the guy that helped me was really cute but a bit of a douchebag.

Met Melissa and Susie and Mel's bf Cedric came home and we had dinner together: salad and pizza. Yum! Then we saw In Bruges at my cinema--my last film there! It was not bad. Made me want to see Bruges. Then got drinks to cool ourselves off since the cinema is under construction and there was no air conditioning. Got home pretty late.

I really can't wrap my head around leaving and packing. I almost just want it to happen already so I don't have to think about what I'm missing. But it was a good run, and after visiting so many different cities and countries, I know that there's still more I have to discover and experience. I've always got tired of routines. They were safe and comfortable for a while, but it's good to explore and constantly challenge yourself. I hope that I can accomplish that next year like I did this one.

miracles

I'm in Lourdes, France where Saint Bernadette had her visions of the Virgin Mary. Mom decided it would be a better trip from Barcelona instead of going to Toulouse, and I totally agree.

It was quite a beautiful experience, something I've never done before in my life, I mean I've never done all this pilgrimage stuff my parents do, so this was pretty cool and interesting just seeing all these believers people in wheelchairs, walking with canes, lots of old people and the disabled coming here to be healed.

I won't go into too much detail--I'll get to it on the day posts--but I will share that this day was probably the best day of this trip or at least my favorite.

analysis

Mother and Father are on a bus tour of Valencia and will probably get some tasty paella tonight, whilst I opted out and am here in the hotel room posting here. WHY?

That's a damn good question.

I was asking myself why I was having an "okay" time in Spain. I wasn't enjoying it as much as I should be, I felt, and I couldn't understand why exactly for the life of me. I mean, the only thing I loved about it was that it was a cool road trip with the fam, but I didn't have time to really research the places we were visiting, plus I think the stuff just went sour on my part when I left my stupid passport in Paris.

Anyway, I opted out of the bus tour and dinner because I wanted the parentals to have some time alone without my stupid, sad face and hoped that I would be in better spirits when they come back.

I think the reason I'm not enjoying Spain as much as I should be is because I can't stop thinking of Paris. I leave in a week, and I only get one day back in Paris after we get back from Spain, and it doesn't feel like enough. I have too much to do, and it's all going to go by so fast. I had that week or so after school to really enjoy the Mouffetard and everything, but it wasn't enough. I thought it was, but it really wasn't. I'm on the beach along the Mediterrean or walking by the Alhambra, and I can't get packing, dealing with rent, buying some Paris souvenirs for friends off my stupid, effing brain. And I can't effing help it, seriously. And it's horrible. I can't complain. I've had close to a year in Paris, and I'm in freakin' beautiful Spain? I should not be complaining. Not about more time in Paris, not about Spain. Ugh...I really don't like where I am right now. Not literally of course. Just...my head is a mess.

jet-setter

So, the Holiday Inn in Bordeaux is pretty sweet. Free wi-fi.

Anyway, felt like a freaking businesswoman traveling round trip from Bordeaux to Paris Charles de Gaulle to get my stupid, freaking passport. Blurg. Dad called me a "jet-setter". He also said, "You fucked up. HAHAHAHAH!!!" yesterday. It sounds like an upsetting thing to hear, but when it comes from him I'm more prone to laugh than to feel guilty. The guilt comes later.

Took Air France for the first time which was really cool--never took it before. Pretty nice. Felt really sick though (nerves and stress, I guess) and threw up but was very low key about it. Yeah, me, a self-proclaimed world traveler threw up on an hour flight from Bordeaux to Paris. That's like SF to LAX which I did at least three times a year my freshman and sophomore year of school. Weird. I think it was more stress sick though.

Had a really, really good dinner just now with the parentals and we finished a bottle of wine. Lovely. I like seeing them enjoy this, like enjoying their retirement. They ordered dessert too. Seeing my parents laughing and telling stories and enjoying themselves makes me so freaking happy. They like talking about the Lakers, it's hilarious. Too bad they didn't make it. Dad taped all the games on DVR while they're away.

Got to drive our Citroen C4 Picasso for 2 hours yesterday which was pretty cool. Sped throughout the countryside. Beautiful. I've got my driving sense back. Funny thing though. I took over at a gas station, and I couldn't find the exit onto the highway and a truck driver on his break was making big gestures and pointed me to it and then I waved to him. It was cool. I love non-verbal communication.

Tomorrow, onto Madrid. Adios!

SARCASM EXPLOSION

NOTE! CAUTION!: I will curse repeatedly throughout this effing post starting right, effing, NOW:

No...I won't curse. But I just did the most effing amazing thing in my life, in front of my parents...I FORGOT MY PASSPORT IN PARIS. Yup. Yeah. Daughter of the year.

And I just remembered it in effing Bordeaux. So close to the Spanish border. I'm flying back to get it tomorrow and then flying back to Bordeaux same day while Mother and Father sip Bordeaux and the famed cognac from the region over and discuss how wonderful their daughter is. They would rather I fly back than risk not being able to cross the border into Spain.

Thank GOD they got a really good laugh at it. They weren't majorly upset, or at least they didn't show signs of it. They were disappointed, yeah, for sure, but Dad laughed his ass off and will probably bring this up for years to come.

lunch at d'orsay and another adventure

Today, took my parents to my favorite Musée D'Orsay. First they came to my place to use the interwebs and read up on the Lakers. Both Mom and Dad are die-hard Lakers fans. "I've got all the games programmed to record on DVR while we're gone," Dad said.

When we got there, we started at the top, at Impressionism. It was crowded, but still nice to see these paintings before I leave. Dad talked about Burt Lancaster in The Train and how his character is supposed to stop a train from transporting French art into Nazi Germany. I love how stuff reminds Dad of movies. I've never seen this film, but I'm making a list of films to watch with Dad when I get home. Yummy, long French lunch there too. My first time. Mom and Dad did a tour last night and their tour guide said that the restaurant on the second floor was good and not too crowded. The ambience was amazing, like dining inside a palace. The service was excellent as well. Showed off my French skills once again for my parents as I ordered for them, and the waiter didn't change into English, and he said, "Très bien, Mademoiselle." And that made me feel very, very good, and it made me look very, very good in front of my parents. The first time I ordered sandwiches for them on the street at Notre Dame, Dad said very loudly and proudly, "THAT'S MY GIRL!" And then I shushed him and smiled. Mom was impressed with the food, but Dad was nonchalant. Dad is simple though: a $2.50 burrito at a hole in the wall that only has 3 tables in LA appeals more to my Dad's palette than filet de poisson et ratatouille. Yay I finally had ratatouille! He said it "wasn't bad" and then qualified it by saying, "You know, the English never say something is 'very good'. They say it's 'not bad'." Okay, Dad.I don't know when it started, probably when I left for college, but Mom and I can have these grown-up conversations and it feel likes an out of body experience of sorts for me because in a lot of ways I feel like a kid, very young at heart, but in these convos, I feel so grown up. During dessert (profiteroles à la D'Orsay!) Mom complained about a few things going on at home while Dad enjoyed his coffee and would butt in occasionally to say something smart-alecky.Mom then told me a very good story (both of my parents are very good storytellers) about something that happened while they were in line to get into the museum, and I was already inside getting their tickets (with my museum carte I can skip the lines). Anyway, Mom told me that a lady who had gotten ice cream was ducking underneath the line dividers to get to her group who was ahead of them. As she got up, both flavors of her ice cream smeared onto another lady's jacket ("Vanilla and a sorbet", Mom said) and then, "SHE DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING!!" Mom laughed. "I almost tapped her," Mom said, referring to smeared jacket lady. "Can you imagine? That lady taking off her jacket and seeing the stain? 'What is this?'!" And then Mom does this thing where she makes a funny face; smiles and laughs; and then claps once right in front of her. A lot of her funny stories end like that. Oh Mom. I can't stop smiling as I write this.

After lunch, more art. I mostly people watched. Lots of Americans. I've never really noticed how big and lazy we are. Seriously. I'm no model, but at least I don't complain walking up three flights of stairs. I guess I'm used to it, but even back in SF, I'd walk 5 flights up the Humanities building to get to class. I watched a group of young girls today staring at the flight of stairs to get to the second floor, and they looked around and said, "Where's the elevator?" The elevator was behind me, but I didn't say anything. Their teacher had to make them walk it. And these were healthy looking girls. I was really perturbed.

Bought myself a museum guide book to take home and then we headed back to my place. I started to pack a little for Spain and home while my parents rested. Lucia gave me her sleeping bag to take back since she didn't have space and I said I could take it back. Only it was way bigger than I imagined. I unrolled it, thinking I can make it smaller, but with no success. Even Mom said, "Don't do it, Elaine. You won't make it better." She was right; it was laughably bigger.

Dad woke from his nap and noticed it and was like, "AAAHH!! WHAT DID YOU DO?!" And he was laughing so hard how I made the sleeping bag bigger than it originally was. He then set out to fix it. We have it so good--Dad can fix almost anything. Our cars, the air conditioner...hell, he is currently installing the wood floors at our house by himself ("I finished your room," he said a couple days ago). So he fixed it.I've packed 2 bags, ready for the Americas, and one backpack for Spain, and my studio still looks the same. It's going to be hectic for the next couple of weeks, I'll definitely update when I get the chance.

reflection time

Mom and Dad went to the Louvre leaving me to do what I gotta do. Packed up one suitcase that they brought with them and will check-in for me. It was weird, my entire school year--all the papers I received, my notebooks, my tests--they all fit in there along with some other books, souvenirs, and winter stuffs. Started packing for Spain too.

Packing, leaving, turning 22 in a week...this is all too much, it kind of all makes me want to throw up. Is this normal?

Walked around the neighborhood to clear my head/get money at the ATM. Mostly everything was closed, boarded up. It's Monday. The cute patisserie that my landlord took me to when I moved in is now a smoothie place. The flower store with the old guy and round glasses retired, there's a pizza place there now. And the grec sandwich place where they had student discount is now a Subway. So much has changed in a year, but a lot of it is the same. I think I'm kind of the same way.

A big shout out to Elaine from Elaine Travels. Elaine contacted me and we have a lot in common other than our prenoms. Check out her blog, it features a lot of cool restaurants that I can't wait to try out when I'm back in LA.

my last Sunday

Mom and Dad experienced a Mouffetard Sunday today, and they thoroughly enjoyed it. We went to Mass together at the church across the street. Did some translation for Mom and told her what to say when giving peace. One of the priests came down and gave me peace. And we were sitting in the last row! That has never happened before, even in the States. It felt really fitting and special to be there for Mass, my last French mass probably. I was zoning in and out during homily, comme d'hab (as usual), but the priest kept repeating "nation des saints" (nation of saints), and that got to me. My religion teacher once told us girls (I went to a Catholic all-girl's school) that we all can become saints, and I thought saint Elaine had a nice ring to it.

I thanked God for such an amazing year and for all my blessings and for what I've been able to experience. And tears came while in prayer as I thought, how am I going to re-pay this? How am I going to give this all back?

Mom and Dad ate at my place, and we listened and watched from my window my landlord singing and the couples dancing. Dad says I live in some fairy tale, haha. Afterwards, we headed to the Arc de Triomphe and then the Eiffel Tower. Mom went up by herself because Dad didn't want to and she said I could stay with Dad since I've already been up it twice. Dad and I people watched, he told me about the automatic weapons the soldiers were carrying and pointed out the ranking officer for me. He criticized some girl because she threw away the skin of the banana and ate it like that instead of holding the stem with it: "She's eating that banana wrong." And then he kept telling me about the film The Day of the Jackal which I haven't seen and takes place in Paris. That is so Dad.

We got Chinese food and then they headed home since they were tired. Tomorrow, they hit the Louvre, and I'm staying home to get stuffs done like laundry and packing for Spain.

oh, mother

I explained to Mom that it's polite to say "Bonjour" to people when you enter a restaurant/store/whatever. Mom pronounces it "bomb-jew".

Oh. Gawd.

Hilariousness, but I told her that I'll do the talking. It's her accent, sometimes it's hard for her to say certain words the way they should be said. I even did a little French lesson on our boat tour, but no success. Dad's is better.

Notre Dame, Latin quarter, and a sweet little boat tour. Not bad. They want to take it easy. They've been on too many of those travel group tours where they rush to see everything. We let Dad nap in the garden behind Notre Dame while we bought souvenirs. While having coffee, Mom brought up Louis Vuitton and convinced herself that she's been working very hard and how it would be nice to "treat" herself. Oh lovely. Dad rebuked, "Working hard? You work one day a week!" Mom's retired but has a part-time job where she works with her friends in a lab one day a week. How awesome is that? Looking at blood slides with your friends and getting paid for it. That's what I want, to love my job, to be able to work with people I can consider friends.

Packed one suitcase that my parents brought and will use as one of their check-in luggages. This is weird.

Meet the Parents

My parents have arrived. No gushy ceremony at the airport, it was just like old times. While in the taxi to their hotel, Dad saw a road sign for Nantes and mentioned the Count of Monte Cristo. The driver's ears perked up and then Dad said, "By Alexandre Dumbass."

The driver said nothing.

My father, ladies and gentlemen. Dad's a huge movie quoter, hope you know that one.

Helped them check-in and then we had lunch at my place then took them back to their hotel to rest. Mom loves the area, and we went to the market together to buy cherries and apricots. There's yet another film crew filming again and we got to check that out. Lovely, lovely. Tomorrow: sightseeing.

bikenight

The hard reality of leaving hit me last night.Small get together for Lucia and Kathy leaving. Good food, good people, and my small studio. Lots of wine and beer consumed and then...bikes.

I feel safer nightbiking here since there's less cars. Me, Lucia, Kathy, Susie, and Susie's bf Andy, and Melissa got Velibs and biked to St. Michel (then said bye to Melissa), then Notre Dame, then along the Seine ending at the Louvre. Beautiful at night. Stood around taking pics and talking by the main pyramid until the guard told us to leave around 1 am. We split ways there, knowing full well that we might not see each other until we get back to SF. But it felt like any other goodbye but with a little bit of sadness to it. Lucia and I biked up rue Monge then turned to my street. I've always wanted to bike down my street at night.

After returning the bikes, Lucia and I parted ways saying, "See you in LA." It felt so weird to say that. See you in LA. Do I really have to go "home"? Is this really happening?

I've been spending my days writing in cafés and people watching, enjoying my quartier which has been a cinematic dream to live in, everything I have ever wanted and more. I don't think anything will ever top this. And yet I want to believe that I could have it this good again.

Tomorrow morning, I see my parents.

phone call

Usually I'm not a huge fan of phone conversation, but it's the only way for me to communicate rapidly with my parents. Back in the States, I try to make phone calls short and sweet or just tell people I'll meet them somewhere to speak in person if possible. Thing is I get so distracted on phone calls that I'm not listening to the person. Instead I'm on the interwebs or looking at a magazine or other things. Not good and not so anymore.

So Mom called last night, and I have my phone set up on this stool and a director's chair by the stool. The phone has a cord, so I answer the phone and sit down in my comfy chair. I'm far from distraction. Also it's nice to hear Mom's lovely voice and her "Huh?"s and "What?"s from across the globe. Suddenly, I'm in love with talking on the phone. Maybe because it's Mom and I'm excited to see her and Dad next week, but I'm also thinking it's this set-up. A corded phone and a comfy chair and nothing else. Wes Anderson had it right. This is how I'm having my house phone set up.Don't know about all the children though.

Talked to Dad who is uber-excited about driving to Spain. He got a Daimler Benz since it's the only automatic available here, and he wants to be able to take turns driving. I can't drive stick. Dad doesn't really care for guided tours and he said he likes "going off the beaten path like Quiller"--Dad's favorite litery spy. Oh, Dad. Dad also said, "I bet you're happy and sad at the same time about leaving. But this is a good experience for you." He knows all too well about being abroad. He was stationed in Spain during his Navy years.

Talked to Mom and she mentioned celebrating my birthday, but I really don't like celebrating my birthday so I turned down the offer. I don't want to be old. I also don't care for surprise birthdays either, and I've had 2 already. That feels like a lot for my age. Also discussed grown-up things like money.

this has never happened before

I am at the eye of the storm, where I am. I see this chaotic mess around me, and I'm at peace. This never used to happen before, I used to get so stressed out over stuff, but it happens rarely now. I have living here to thank. I have 3 film apps to fill out by tomorrow morning. I've just finished one. They're pretty curt, but pretty intense. One just states: "List the films you have made." Do you know how intimidating that can be?

I'm thinking of directors that didn't go to film school, and that somehow puts me at ease. I want the degree, I mean, of course I want the degree, but I don't want to be in school longer than I have to. I shouldn't have to "sell" myself on these apps to get into these classes that can only fit 18 students. I've heard horror stories of students not getting into ANY of these film classes. They just have to keep waiting. God, we all should get the chance.

If it happens, if I get in, then I get in. If I don't...I'll take it from there. Back to those apps.

Also, I just got off the phone from Mom and rest of my fam. My phone convo with all three of them lasted a total of 8 minutes and 35 seconds. And I only speak to them, mostly Mom and Dad, about once a month. Is that normal for long distance familial relationships? It doesn't seem normal. My family isn't normal anyway, but that's besides the point. The point is, we are so comfortable being away from each other because what counts is that we have each other in our hearts. Gosh, that was cheesy. But I do live in a country that doesn't think 3 fromageries within 20 paces of each other is the least bit excessive.

Speaking of family, I just started a Tumblr dedicated to my hilarious Dad. It's called "dad quotes". I have this ever growing collection of dad quotes and dad stories, and I thought I could store them on the interwebs for people to enjoy. Also I wanted to try the quick blogging Tumblr experience. No complaints yet. Enjoy dad quotes!

Happy Birthday Mom!

Today is Mom's birthday. Happy Birthday, Mom!One time, I was out with my Mom, I don't know where. We run into one of her old co-workers from at least 3 years back. Mom's co-worker recounts a really cute story to me that more or less went like this:

"You know, before I met your Mom, I could never steam broccoli correctly. It always came out mushy. My children hated eating it. Your Mom comes to work with steamed broccoli, and I asked how she steamed hers. She boils the water then at boiling point she turns the stove OFF--I never did this--then puts the broccoli in! [I might have the actual steaming broccoli direction wrong, but that's not the point] Now my children will eat my broccoli. They love it."

It's when I hear little stuff like that that reminds me, time and again, that I have the best Mom in the world. Just hearing from other people how great my Mom is makes me smile, makes me feel so blessed and lucky. Not only is she a great Mom, she's a great Lady, Wife, Daughter, Sister, Aunt, Friend, Co-Worker, Neighbor, you name it.

She's great at telling stories--editor of her high school newspaper, yeah!
She cooks amazing Filipino food.
She dresses well.
She smells good, and her skin is soft.
She has a great smile and laugh and a charming and unforgettable sense of humor.
She's a great hostess and party thrower.
She lights up any room that she walks into.
When I walk into a family party, people come up to me saying, "Hi! How are you?...Where's your Mom?" Then beeline for my Mom.

Oh, how I long to be Mother with her soft skin and hairless arms. To have people naturally gravitate towards you with smiling and laughing faces, probably reminiscing in their heads a lovely memory of you. How to steam broccoli, perhaps. Oh that charm, that wit. That smile that puts everyone else at ease. Can all this be genetic, somehow?

Oh no no no. It's all you, you lovely lady. Maybe some of it came from Grandma. Some of it. Happy Birthday!

"Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt." -- Abraham Lincoln

I really am a fool.

I am not afraid to admit that I'm an idiot sometimes. I'm not very good at history. I can't really retain a lot of things. I'll learn stuff and then *poof* out it goes with the trash. Dates, events, important happenings in history--it doesn't come easy to me. I envy people who have this gift, namely Kathy and Kristin who rule in our French History class.

Here's what I can remember and some of my strengths that I hope make up for my lack of book smarts: I can remember something funny that someone said; the locations of places and how to get there. I have a good sense of direction and pretty good with a map. I have great ninja skills (my ex-roommate always hated my stealth mode). I'm pretty observant and MacGyver-ish. When Stacy was here, I fixed her broken zipper with stuff I had around the studio. My Dad once said I'd make a great assassin.

What am I getting at? Oh yeah...I love it when people just already assume I'm an idiot, and then they're proved wrong, not by me, but by some outside force. Case in point: today's class. I had to work with a girl on a grammar exercise. This girl is already a know-it-all, I really don't know what she's doing in our class. She answers all the questions, almost with an air of resentment for everyone else who doesn't know the answer.

So, we're doing an exercise together, and she goes ahead and states out all the answers for me and then goes back to writing in her journal/doing other homework. Whatever. So I do the exercise myself, slowly, trying to figure out the answers on my own and ignoring what she told me. She leans over and asks, "Do you need help? It's blah blah blurg." I look at her and mutter, "Merci." And then when she wasn't looking I made this funny face that only God could see.

Minutes later, the prof's passing out homework. She gives Ms. Know All hers and talks out loud about the little mistakes she made. She sometimes does this for our papers. She hands me mine and says, "Very good" and that's it. Ms. KA looks at my paper and says, "You write well?" I shrugged and didn't say anything and just put the paper in my folder.

Awesome.

Lucia and I were recently talking about Italy, and I totally forgot that we'll be by the beach for our first stop. YAY! Sun, finally. I'm still using a scarf here. A scarf in April!

Luckily, Mom sent me my bathing suit and boardshorts with Cher and Char. I can't wait to get some sun. I also want to jump off a small cliff and into the ocean, if it's safe and possible. You always see that kind of stuff in movies.

"Let's take a look at the itinerary." -- Francis, The Darjeeling Limited.

Asked Mom to send me the itinerary for their trip and got this: Absolute insanity. You have no idea how freaking excited I am about this. You know how some kids don't like traveling with their families or parents? I am the absolute opposite. I love it. I guess because traveling has been ingrained in us for so long, from weekends to San Onofre to three weeks in the Philippines. And I'm with the people I love--heaven. And I'm in desperate need of some Dad humor and Dad quotes. You would not believe the things this ex-sailor says. He's so hilarious. And just paired with the rationality of my Mom...fun times indeed.

My aunt Trini will also be joining us too. Mom's good friend, but I call her Aunt--you know how that is. She's hilarious, and I've always looked up to her as a fashion icon. She's one of those ladies that you might think goes to fashion shows or has her house featured on Architectural Digest (her house is amazing), but she's none of those things, just a regular lady like my Mom.

I'm excited about doing this all in a car and taking our time. I really want to drive in the countryside too. Wait, it might be stick though. Shoot. I can't drive stick. This would be a great time to learn! I'm always bugging Dad to teach me. Dad has an old Chevy truck that's stick, and I've always wanted to learn on that. He said that, "If you can drive this, you can drive anything. You can drive a tank." So that was great motivation.

I am mean.

Picked up my friends from the airport today. Cher emerged first, looking a bit worried and only holding a handbag. I ran to her and we hugged and asked what happened, and she said she couldn't find her luggage. They had been looking for an hour. I got into stressed mode sort of, took her to information and I asked what they should do. Then I said to her, since I couldn't go into the baggage claim area, "You go back in there and talk to US Airways and you be PERSISTENT! Don't come out without your luggage!"

How welcoming I am.

I never realized how mean I can be until after the fact. I blame it on living here. They're such sweet girls and I love them to death so I felt bad about forcing them to be super persistent. It's their first time abroad, and they don't know the ropes so well. But they will learn, by God they will learn. They finally came out, 5 minutes later, and with their luggage. I hugged them again like it was the first time I saw them.

Mom and Dad packed some things for me, mostly things I asked for like shorts and boardshorts. Like I'll be needing them soon, haha. It's raining right now. Dad also put a crapload of lens wipes for my eyeglasses. That was lovely. I know it was him because he always has those in his pockets or in his truck or sticking out of his backpack that he uses for work.

We sat in the airport for a bit so that they can rest, and I was presented with a gift: The Darjeeling Limited dvd. What amazing friends I have. I actually emailed Cher if she could get it for me, and then I said nevermind it's no big deal I'll get it when I go home, and then she surprised me with it anyway! God, I demand too much. Right when I sent out that email asking for it, I felt like such an ass because she's already bringing a crapload of my stuff here and back. God, these girls are amazing.

They're asleep right now--funny how I blog when most of my friends are asleep--but tonight I'm making a nice, roast chicken dinner courtesy of the butchers up the street who cook a mean chicken. Salad, potatoes, wine, bread, and ice cream for later. I'm salivating already.