Well, they call it all kinds of things and correct me if I am mistaken, but isn't Paris known to be one of the most (if not the most period) romantic cities in the world. Here I am, one of the biggest critics and fans of love in romance-ville (ville is the French word for city, so this one really makes sense). It wouldn't be right though, regardless of who I am or what I aspire to be, to not write at least one love blog during my stay here.
So Steve arrived around lunch time here on the 6th. He was wearing a white collared shirt, jeans and carried an orange gerber daisy (my favorite flower) in his hand as he approached me at the airport. I think there was a bit of a blackout moment if not a few, since we had a somewhat serious pause for a couple of weeks before he came. I felt skeptical and uneasy about his visit, because here is a person I have a great connection with in front of me, and a bag full of fear and insecurity wearing me down. After the blackout, we both tried to regain ourselves and act somewhat normal on our walk to the train. There is nothing normal about being in love though, let's face it. We walked hand-in-hand out of the airport and kissed like no one was around (sorry I know, gross). What followed was 10 days of absolute perfection, even in its imperfect moments, his stay here was just like a movie. The city seemed different, the lights seemed brighter, and all in all, it's like I *just* moved here. I get it now, I do. I feel like we managed to do so much yet the time flew by so fast that it all just seemed like one day. We joke around about this, but we literally ate France (and Bulgaria.) Most nights whether we stayed in or went out, it really just felt like the city was ours and that this was just a dream neither of us wanted to wake up from. One of the nights we just stood on one of the bridges over the Seine, and I just started crying because it was just so unreal, and I wondered if I'd ever feel this way again. I am such a sap like seriously.
It was cool I think for Steve because this was his first time out of the States. God, just seeing his face when we first went into "Paris Paris" was priceless, and everything aside, just that face was worth his whole trip to me. There is something about being able to show the person you love something they have never seen before and be able to experience it with them like it's your first time seeing it too, it's just indescribable.
So Steve and I had talked about taking a trip somewhere outside of France. I gave him a couple of options like Madrid and Prague, but in the end, he said he wanted to go to Bulgaria. Now, this was sweet as I have been planning a trip to see my dad for the longest time, but due to "something" coming up the weekend I was going to go, I didn't think I was going to be able to. Well, so there we were with 1 day to see all my family and friends (or most of them anyway). The poor guy didn't speak a word of Bulgarian, and he just managed so well to sit through all of the endless conversations. He just has such a good way of looking at things, it makes me kind of jealous. I will never forget us sitting on the couch in my dad's living room, and how he brought tears to my eyes when he said something along the lines of how amazing this experience was for him.
Anyway, all in all, Paris, I'm convinced now. I get it.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
People come and people go, but Paris, I don't think they ever let you go...
So, I have definitely been slacking here, but hopefully my lack of writing has resulted in plenty of experience...that I could eventually (like now) write about.
My life is Paris is pretty mundane. I am sad to say this, but I think it's hard to "live it up" when you have to be responsible and take care of business. I wake up around 7, I check my email and take a shower. Then I walk to the tram, which takes me to the RER, which takes me to the bus, which takes me to work. All in all, I have a short of exciting hour-and-a-half-long trip every morning, where I get to see and smell everyone that lives in Paris and right outside of. (don't end a sentence with a preposition...bite me) I spend my day in front of the computer doing a plethora of things, which include programming, drinking coffee, doing research, talking to my fellow intern comrades (representatives of Asia, Belgium, Algeria, etc). I wait for Steve to wake up around 2 pm my time, when we start our massive day-long conversations. The relationship there has definitely been an interesting experience in itself, and I plan on taking more time discussing it on my OTHER blog, which has been even more neglected than this one. I digressed...I leave work around 5 pm, where I continue the second half of my three-hour-every-day-round trip. By the time I get home, I just feel like sitting around and doing nothing. I want to just stare at the ceiling. Yes, I'm in Paris, I could go out and drink coffee and walk extravagantly with a scarf eccentrically wrapped around my neck, but no, I go home, and I just sink into my bed. By the time, 9 pm rolls around, I am ready for sleep. I think about it for another hour or so, and then I actually do it. You could say, I have adapted and don't really see this place as a dreamy land but more as my place of work, my place of residence.
Now, to the good parts. Recently, I took two trips outside of France. The first trip was to London. Now, when I was a kid in Bulgaria, I grew up around 2 other families. They both consisted of the parents and two kids. We were 4 boys and 2 girls, one of the girls being me, the youngest, and the other was being one of the oldest in the group. Though life separated us at a very young age, our parents still talk, and thanks to facebook, we, the kids, have been able to keep in touch as well. So, the girl that I am talking about, Kristina (or as we call her Nushka), lives in London with her boyfriend. She was kind enough to welcome me into her home and into her life (not that I ever left ;) )...It really just felt like home. Not seeing each other for 13 plus years did everything but put a damp on my experience. It is just so amazing how two people can know so well and not know each other at alll. It's one thing to know where someone came from, and it's another thing t to hear about what they have gone through. It was just really great to hang out with her and everyone she introduced me to. As far as London is concerned, I was a bit surprised. I guess it was much like Paris, where you hear about a place and you see pictures of the place, and when you actually see it you realize that it is just a place where other people live. The thing I was most impressed by was the outside markets. They really just had such a huge variety of food and jewelry, and the atmosphere was just great. On my way back, I missed my flight (by a few minutes, BA, see if I ever get a ticket with you again grrr), and my phone wasn't working in or around the airport. I spent probably around 20 pounds using the internet, trying to get my mom to get a hold of Nushka's mom, so that she knows I am still at the airport. Long story short, I reserved a ticket for 60 pounds (I still hate you BA), Nushka came to get me at 1 am, so I had a place to stay, and after all that, I made it home safe the next day. You can't really travel, and not have a horrible airport story to share right? First flight I've ever missed...and oh man, talk about crazy crying blond girl at the airport...
The following weekend I took off to Amsterdam. By train! It was only about 3 hours and way more comfortable than any plane I've ever been on. Now, it had been a hectic day. I packed all my things in the morning and brought my luggage to work...No fun when you have to change transportation 3 times and walk. Anyway, after work, I got to the train station and waited for a couple of hours (little did I know I'd wait just as much in the train before it left). I found my place in the wrong car, which meant I had to walk 2 cars over, which in itself was a bit of a bummer as I had just let out my first sign of relief. I am really glad I realized I was in the wrong car though...why..? Well, this is a fun story. I, once again, had sat in the wrong seat (but int eh right car this time), so the couple that was supposed to sit there turned out to be American. Within the first couple-of-sentences exchange, I found out that the guy was from San Diego. We started talking as my seat was right in front of theirs, and they seemed relieved to hear someone speak English. American English, at that. Funilly ( not a word in the English dictionary, I know) enough, the girl was from Florida. What a coincidence? Well, you just wait. We ended up talking for the first couple of hours of the trip. Turned out they were also in a long distance relationship, and had met around the time that Steve and I met. Pretty parallel stories, and I think my big mouth told them more than anyone should tell any "stranger" but with them it just felt like we already knew each other from before. In the end, I didn't see them again, but I did find out that the guy, Alex, is actually friends with one of housemates, and the girl, Laura, went to school with one of my undergraduate friends. You know, the world is small, but I didn't realize how small it actually was. But I digress...AGAIN.
In Amsterdam, I was welcomed by my friend Jasmijn (I put the j in the right place for once). Jas and I met at DBCC about 5 years ago. She was the newspaper editor, and I was the news editor. It was one of those things, where you just never know that a certain person would become such a good friend. After a couple of years, she moved back to her motherland (Holland). It has somehow happened that every year we are at the same place at the same time. Like one year she was in DC, and I was in DC. Last year, she was in DB the same time I was in DB, and now, here we were in Amsterdam... No complaints. The best part of it all is realizing how you don't have to talk to someone every day or see them to maintain a great relationship with them, because it didn't take us but a second to get right back to where we left off. Of course, we both had a lot of updates and whatnot, but that is just one of the great parts of my experience there.
Amsterdam was great. We took one day just to walk around the city and smell the weed (gross but inevitable there...I still wouldn't touch the stuff), eat tasty Dutch food (raw herring with pickles and onions...delicious), and just talk. I loved the architecture and feel of the city. Most of all, I was just happy to see such a familiar face. On my way back, I heard the person behind me speak Bulgarian...but I didn't say anything to him.
All in all, despite the stress, the sweat and the tears, I think all of this is priceless, and I just have this gut feeling that this experience is soaking so much into me that I really am just too young to fathom and really understand.
My life is Paris is pretty mundane. I am sad to say this, but I think it's hard to "live it up" when you have to be responsible and take care of business. I wake up around 7, I check my email and take a shower. Then I walk to the tram, which takes me to the RER, which takes me to the bus, which takes me to work. All in all, I have a short of exciting hour-and-a-half-long trip every morning, where I get to see and smell everyone that lives in Paris and right outside of. (don't end a sentence with a preposition...bite me) I spend my day in front of the computer doing a plethora of things, which include programming, drinking coffee, doing research, talking to my fellow intern comrades (representatives of Asia, Belgium, Algeria, etc). I wait for Steve to wake up around 2 pm my time, when we start our massive day-long conversations. The relationship there has definitely been an interesting experience in itself, and I plan on taking more time discussing it on my OTHER blog, which has been even more neglected than this one. I digressed...I leave work around 5 pm, where I continue the second half of my three-hour-every-day-round trip. By the time I get home, I just feel like sitting around and doing nothing. I want to just stare at the ceiling. Yes, I'm in Paris, I could go out and drink coffee and walk extravagantly with a scarf eccentrically wrapped around my neck, but no, I go home, and I just sink into my bed. By the time, 9 pm rolls around, I am ready for sleep. I think about it for another hour or so, and then I actually do it. You could say, I have adapted and don't really see this place as a dreamy land but more as my place of work, my place of residence.
Now, to the good parts. Recently, I took two trips outside of France. The first trip was to London. Now, when I was a kid in Bulgaria, I grew up around 2 other families. They both consisted of the parents and two kids. We were 4 boys and 2 girls, one of the girls being me, the youngest, and the other was being one of the oldest in the group. Though life separated us at a very young age, our parents still talk, and thanks to facebook, we, the kids, have been able to keep in touch as well. So, the girl that I am talking about, Kristina (or as we call her Nushka), lives in London with her boyfriend. She was kind enough to welcome me into her home and into her life (not that I ever left ;) )...It really just felt like home. Not seeing each other for 13 plus years did everything but put a damp on my experience. It is just so amazing how two people can know so well and not know each other at alll. It's one thing to know where someone came from, and it's another thing t to hear about what they have gone through. It was just really great to hang out with her and everyone she introduced me to. As far as London is concerned, I was a bit surprised. I guess it was much like Paris, where you hear about a place and you see pictures of the place, and when you actually see it you realize that it is just a place where other people live. The thing I was most impressed by was the outside markets. They really just had such a huge variety of food and jewelry, and the atmosphere was just great. On my way back, I missed my flight (by a few minutes, BA, see if I ever get a ticket with you again grrr), and my phone wasn't working in or around the airport. I spent probably around 20 pounds using the internet, trying to get my mom to get a hold of Nushka's mom, so that she knows I am still at the airport. Long story short, I reserved a ticket for 60 pounds (I still hate you BA), Nushka came to get me at 1 am, so I had a place to stay, and after all that, I made it home safe the next day. You can't really travel, and not have a horrible airport story to share right? First flight I've ever missed...and oh man, talk about crazy crying blond girl at the airport...
The following weekend I took off to Amsterdam. By train! It was only about 3 hours and way more comfortable than any plane I've ever been on. Now, it had been a hectic day. I packed all my things in the morning and brought my luggage to work...No fun when you have to change transportation 3 times and walk. Anyway, after work, I got to the train station and waited for a couple of hours (little did I know I'd wait just as much in the train before it left). I found my place in the wrong car, which meant I had to walk 2 cars over, which in itself was a bit of a bummer as I had just let out my first sign of relief. I am really glad I realized I was in the wrong car though...why..? Well, this is a fun story. I, once again, had sat in the wrong seat (but int eh right car this time), so the couple that was supposed to sit there turned out to be American. Within the first couple-of-sentences exchange, I found out that the guy was from San Diego. We started talking as my seat was right in front of theirs, and they seemed relieved to hear someone speak English. American English, at that. Funilly ( not a word in the English dictionary, I know) enough, the girl was from Florida. What a coincidence? Well, you just wait. We ended up talking for the first couple of hours of the trip. Turned out they were also in a long distance relationship, and had met around the time that Steve and I met. Pretty parallel stories, and I think my big mouth told them more than anyone should tell any "stranger" but with them it just felt like we already knew each other from before. In the end, I didn't see them again, but I did find out that the guy, Alex, is actually friends with one of housemates, and the girl, Laura, went to school with one of my undergraduate friends. You know, the world is small, but I didn't realize how small it actually was. But I digress...AGAIN.
In Amsterdam, I was welcomed by my friend Jasmijn (I put the j in the right place for once). Jas and I met at DBCC about 5 years ago. She was the newspaper editor, and I was the news editor. It was one of those things, where you just never know that a certain person would become such a good friend. After a couple of years, she moved back to her motherland (Holland). It has somehow happened that every year we are at the same place at the same time. Like one year she was in DC, and I was in DC. Last year, she was in DB the same time I was in DB, and now, here we were in Amsterdam... No complaints. The best part of it all is realizing how you don't have to talk to someone every day or see them to maintain a great relationship with them, because it didn't take us but a second to get right back to where we left off. Of course, we both had a lot of updates and whatnot, but that is just one of the great parts of my experience there.
Amsterdam was great. We took one day just to walk around the city and smell the weed (gross but inevitable there...I still wouldn't touch the stuff), eat tasty Dutch food (raw herring with pickles and onions...delicious), and just talk. I loved the architecture and feel of the city. Most of all, I was just happy to see such a familiar face. On my way back, I heard the person behind me speak Bulgarian...but I didn't say anything to him.
All in all, despite the stress, the sweat and the tears, I think all of this is priceless, and I just have this gut feeling that this experience is soaking so much into me that I really am just too young to fathom and really understand.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)