Mon amie a Paris!

Hello again friends!

I've been getting emails from lovely people asking me questions about my year in Paris and seeking advice. It's really nice.

I know I'm not in Paris, but Fanyi is and you can check out her blog here at :Reflections Aboard Paris Express.

Some updates: I'm finishing my last semester at school, and I'm awaiting to hear back on an internship in southern California. Wish me luck!

a year ago

Yesterday, while on the way to Ikea with Lucia, I realized that a year ago we arrived in Paris.

When I look back on that girl I think, "OH YOU ARE SO NAIVE!!!" haha...But seriously, a year has changed A LOT, and I wouldn't trade my year in Paris for anything else. I am so happy that it has brought me to a place where I am now, mentally. Physically, not so much--I'm back in SF. But if I can get through a year in Paris, I can get through a year in SF. Believe me.

I don't ever want to be the girl I was back then, and moving back here feels like a step backwards, a road towards that other girl. It's not like moving back to LA, which will always be home. But SF has always felt temporary, never my home, just a vacation from family. Maybe it'll change this year, but I really wouldn't care if it did since I can't wait to go back to LA. At least, I'm making our place (Lucia is my roommate!) a real sanctuary.

prepare for re-entry

Finally, finally, finally, had my money transferred from Paris to here. Took them long enough. Already had forgotten how incredibly slow the French system can be.

SFSU is offering a re-entry workshop for all study abroad students to "prepare" us for "life after study abroad". Unfortunately, I can't make it. I think we're all dealing in our own ways to adjust to life back here. Me, I'm just so swamped with stuff to do that I forget to miss the things I'm missing. I miss my tiny studio and what little I had. Everything was so simple. I just just what I needed, and that was enough. Here I have too much, but that's because I keep everything.

As for changes, I dress better than I used to. I think I'm less afraid to be dressy. I take better care of myself too, healthwise. My childhood friend who used to live across the street is getting married. She's only a year older than me. Right now, we're the same age, but she'll be a year older in November. I used to have a crush on her older brother, who is an Air Force hottie. My cousin also has a crush on him, haha. He'll be at my brother's wedding.

rebonjour

Hello again.

I've been missing Paris of late...Not too badly, but just the little things. Like taking the metro or the 28 bus and getting off at Notre Dame. Getting a noisette at the Saint Medard and watching all the world pass me by. Or sitting with friends in the back of a bar with a demi-citron. Eating a grec or falafel standing up in a public place. Walking everywhere, being surrounded by complete strangers, lovely boys, and pretty girls.

I've been driving everywhere, spending lots of time in traffic. Having coffee in cafes. Walking in public, but commercial, places.

It's not the same.

Of course not, and it'll never be the same. But I made a vow a while back to live every year like "Year Paris". Yeah, I gave it a name, Year Paris. Something like "kilometer zero". Year Paris was the most interesting, exciting year of my life, and while I might not top Year Paris just yet, I can make a promise to live as close to it as possible.

Right now, not doing so well.

i could punch something someone right now

BLURG! Finally got a hold of my bank. I got the numbers. But ARGH! the lady was so freaking difficult. What is it with French people that they delight in making people who maybe don't speak their language so well feel like idiot children. I called and all I got was a drawn out, "oui?" and then I thought, "Oh God, here I go"...I explained everything and after each point I got another drawn out, "Oui?"

I wish there was a way to punch someone in the face over the phone.

I thought "who the f*** is this" so I asked if this was the same lady and if she remembered who I was at all, and I got another "oui". So I said, "Give me my money, pute!" No. I didn't. I wish I did though.

So she gave me the numbers and then repeated them in effing English for chrissakes. I've been saying "chrissakes" a lot after I heard Mom saying it. I'm going to fax them the order later when a faxing store is open. Blurg.

Glad that's over and done with. Damn, those frogs still can manage to piss me off thousands of miles away. I am thankful for one lovely Italian frog, Adriano, my hook-up at the bank who, after checking my mail after the call, sent me the numbers by email. So, talking to that asshole lady could have been avoided, but whatever.

memory lane

Last night was a really fun night. This guy David I grew up and went to school with from kindergarten to 8th grade graduated from UCSD with a chemical engineering degree. His grad party/birthday party was last night. I went along with Cher.

It was really cool to catch up with him especially since we haven't seen each other in a long time. We talked about our old classmates and reminisced over funny school stories. His parents are the sweetest people in the world and his Dad kept telling David's friends really embarrassing stuff about me which was not cool, but hilarious still. Everyone kept asking me about Paris which is natural, but I find it so hard to talk about or to sum up so I just say, "I had a good time. I learned a lot." which seems so broad to me and does no justice to what actually happened.

Learned that David was hoping to work in alternative fuels and just got turned down from a job about creating a universal blood. It made me so happy that David wanted and was actively pursuing careers that would hopefully make the world a better place. Universal blood. Alternative fuels. I joked, "You're a superhero, David. You're going to save us." "Not yet," he answered.

There were questions of my future, but broad ones that didn't pain me to answer with a hint of uncertainty. Just what was in store for me for the next year. No one questioned what would happen after graduation, and I was glad for it. All I got was suggestions that I "should come home".

I thought long and hard, after the party, about how I wanted to do something noble with my degree like David set out with his. I wanted to be a hero too and save the world even if it only meant abstractly and in minuscule maybe innumerable figures.

I thought a long time, while brushing my teeth, changing into my pjs, and in the dark and found it hard to fall asleep.

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!

apple and pizza

I am awesome. I just figured it all out. Not "all" out, but I finally figured it all while getting my schedule ready for school.

I picked up a lot of lecture classes when it comes to cinema and two screenwriting classes. I figure since I don't have the money to produce my own films for school, I figure I'll use this last year to really hone in my writing skills and work on story structure and all that. And THEN I'll work on other people's films therefore not spending my own hard cash. That way I can still get experience on set and be part of a crew, which I LOVE, and still get to write although I won't be filming anything. I just happen to find that better than trying to get money to make a film. Especially at this point I should be well into pre-production, but I have NOTHING to film.

I think it's a good plan. That way I don't overload and get a serious breakdown. I mean, I just came back from Paris I should maybe take it a little easy for the next semester.

Awesome. That was the plan from the get go anyway, and I'm glad my schedule worked out.

One to One at the Apple store today. There's still a line out there for the phone, but I got in like I was on some sort of guest list at a club. Felt pretty nice. The guy was okay. I dunno, it just didn't seem like the guy was enthused. He was kind of scary, like scary serious. Homeboy would not smile, even when I'd make a joke. Whatever. I still learned a lot from him, but it's nice to have a teacher who is easy to be with and energetic. Maybe it's just me and I have particular tastes now. Scheduled another one to one for next week. Just hope it's not with Oscar the Grouch. I did see the two cute Erics working so that made my day.

Met with my good friend from high school, Andrea today for pizza. She asked me why I haven't called up anyone else. Honestly, I wondered that myself. I guess I've been so used to being in my own little world in Paris. I also don't like to be the person who initiates things even if it's with my good friends. It's so bizarre. Sometimes I wonder how I have as many friends as I do. I guess I'm just lucky to be friends with people more outgoing than I am.

Asked me if I missed Paris, and I said of course. How long will it take for me to get over Paris? It's hard. I've been comparing things to Paris and France a lot. Cousin Ellen called me out on it: "France this! Paris that! You're in California now!" It was funny; I hadn't noticed this behavior at all.

Also, lastly, I want to thank Elaine and Jenna for their support. You girls rock.

settling in

I am finally getting back into that groove. That So Cal groove that I usually adopt whenever I'm back at home during summers or breaks. Reading the LA Times before my parents can get to it (if I'm lucky and wake early). Making tea in my skivvies. Eating my Mom's multivitamins...I am back...for the most part.

Hung out with my cousin Ellen who is here from nor cal. I've got a lot of family in nor cal. Dorked out on the laptoppies all morning with my brother watching You Tube videos and when he left for work, Ellen and I got some sushi for lunch.

Ellen's staying at my Grandma's while she's here. Grandma is...an interesting character. Definitely this matriarch figure that has played an important role in all her grandchildren's lives. She's sharp, derisive, and hilarious. Always at our house parties, she'll be sitting in a really comfortable chair while my Mom or someone goes to fix her plate of food and everyone who enters the party goes to greet her first before doing anything else. And, according to Kuya, she shit-talks when she plays mah-jong.

Ellen and I hung out at G-ma's and rented some movies our theme being "school" since Ellen's a grade-school teacher and so was G-ma. Got Charlie Bartlett and Rocket Science. Around 1 am, Kuya arriving from his shift came by and we all went to Norm's for late-night grub. That just feels so So Cal to me. I remember going to Denny's or some other late night diner after prom and going to shows.

I'm starting to feel normal again, and maybe less special and unique. When in Paris, I labeled myself as "American in Paris" or maybe "study abroad student". And that was cool, you know, people found that interesting, especially when meeting American tourists. There's always this sense of superiority when walking amongst American tourists or any tourists in Paris. I've never been one to feel superior to anyone until Paris. I especially felt super cool and snob when I'd walk past them with great purpose while they stare at their maps trying to figure out the metro system. Ordering food at St. Michel and asking for sauce samurai while they just pointed at the white stuff. That felt good, I must confess. Being an American, and yet having that "in" in a crazy, sometimes harsh city. But maybe any local gets that feeling when surrounded with tourists.

I'm really going to miss that.

And now I'm just a regular student, a 5th year senior at SFSU. That window in which I can say "I just got back from Paris for a year" is shrinking. At least some people here in so cal find me being a student up north a little exotic, case in point the boys at Apple. But I need to start feeling good about myself again, without that superiority of living abroad.

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.

conversion

I am officially part of the Mac family.

Kuya, being the caring, rich older brother that he is, bought me a new laptoppy today, a Macbook Pro. He's really banking on this future of mine as a film writer/director. A lot of people are which puts a lot of pressure on me. He says this counts for the next Christmas and birthday. I say it counts for the next 20.

Dad was pushing me to get the laptop now before it's too late (ie Kuya removes the offer from the table) and I finally brought it up today. I got a laptop with the ipod touch which is part of the student rebate and a printer, also a part of the rebate. Kuya gets the ipod touch.

Can I just write about how absolutely adorable the boys at Apple are? I was first helped by Eric, a New Yorker who's moved to So Cal. Tall, lanky, glasses, mentioned he misses his family, plays guitar, has dogs, and majored in Radio/Film/Television. Oh my gawd, eHarmony could not have done a better job. He gave me his card. Then went home with the WRONG computer! I was too excited to check if it was glossy or matte and found out that the screen was matte.

Took it back, and was helped by another Eric. Short black hair, stubble (love it), also adorable in madras shorts and black Converse high tops. He reminded me of this camera operator I was working with and who trained me. Looked just like him so it brought back some fond memories. He was really nice even though my order was pain. Turns out they don't make the model I want in glossy. So I got the one right below it. He sort of talked me out of 2.6GHz, the original buy, saying he and his film major friend were having this discussion before how the upgrade from 2.4 to 2.6 didn't really matter. I got 2.5. I doubt the whole discussion really happened, but whatever. He was cute and helpful and getting to talk to two cute nerdy boys named Eric in one day is more than a shy girl like me can ask for. That's probably as close to a "date" as I'm going to get this summer. Although I do have a one-on-one session tomorrow with a Genius who is going to transfer my files for me. Let's cross our fingers, folks.

Have been getting used to driving which is nice because it has AC and the metro and bus AC has been nonexistest in Paris. But with gas prices being so high, I just feel so horrible driving. I might as well throw money out the window. Was flipping channels and Sabrina was on and I came in on the part where Linus asked Sabrina, "Do you miss Paris?" My response was, "Is this really happening?"

When it comes to the Spain posts...Honestly, I don't see it happening any time soon if at all. Maybe a few posts highlighting the few high points of the trip. I'll try my best.

Friends have been asking me if I'm going to end this blog. The answer is a loud and resounding yes. It's Paris for a Year, and I'm no longer in Paris. However I will continue blogging somewhere on the interwebs. I will continue to update in a sense like organize as I mean to have this blog helpful for others planning to study abroad in Paris or in general.

2am

I can't sleep for obvious reasons. While packing I watched Kung Fu Panda and The Big Lebowski. I wrote letters to leave for the next resident and for my landlord. Keisha is so kind and offered to help me take my baggages to the taxi stand. What a sweet girl.

To help me calm the flip down from the bank incident, I re-read the dog-eared pages of Franny and Zooey, pages 201 to 202. I'll probably need to read them again later. It's packed with my carry-on.

I didn't think I'd leave like this. I thought I'd be...less mad. Susie and Melissa came over to hang out, and I even had dinner with Keisha, and I was just totally distracted. I didn't want it to be this way. Mais c'est la vie.

God, I wanted to write something nice. Something good about leaving. Maybe something will come later when this is all done. Will try to sleep at least one hour.

Paris weeps for me

Definitely one of those semi-crappy Parisian days designed to make me long for America and going home.

It's hot and rainy instead of hot and sunny. The morning was fine--had coffee with my landlord which was lovely. He bonjoured just about every other person that walked by and he knew. He talked about his time as a student and the day he left New York on his study abroad. It was nice.

I guess the only really crappy thing was closing my bank account. I guess my French was shit today, shit enough that the lady, maybe after a few seconds of me trying to comprehend what she was explaining, just got fed up and said she'll explain in English. Which was fine, whatever. All I could hear in my head was the Dude's concise resignation, "Fuck it".

Anyway, I used my card today which I shouldn't have and so it was I guess a big deal since she made it out that I can't get my money from my account until all transactions are verified, and she'll wire it. Fine. Then she went through all these hoops of fire and made calls and then said I could have some of it and wire the rest. She made it like it was some huge undertaking, that I had created a pile of work for her to overcome and do, and then when she finally found a solution, she said, "Do you agree to this? This would be better for me." Fuck lady, yeah whatever suits you, just make sure the fucking money gets here. Then the old bag at the counter kept counting the money she was going to give me as if she was parting with the money from her own wallet.

And the crappy, crappy part was me walking home (please dear reader, just let me whine just a little longer) and feeling like pre-Paris me. Naive, timid (still), never-speaking-up-for-myself, pre-Paris me. I thought I was done with all this confusing, living in Paris stuff, but Paris wins again.

This whole bank thing probably didn't go down as exaggerated as I put it probably--I'm just in a crappy mood on my last day in Paris. But that was enjoyable for me to write and for you to read, I hope. I apologize for the cursing, you usually don't read me like this. Next time I write it will be about happier things, I pray and hope to God.

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.

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!

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.