Long Lost Update

HI, all!!

Anna, my British friend, this one's for you! I miss you!

I'm so sorry that I didn't finish the final trip update! The quick, quick version is that I went to Paris; saw Jean-Claude and Marie-Claude (which was absolutely delightful); went to Le Mans and visited Danielle Galloyer (one of my favorite people of all-time and an old French friend); and then flew home. I hate to say it, but I had the first horrible Parisian experience of my life. I have been something of a francophile and have always fiercely defended the Parisians and the French at large when those of other nationalities have criticized them for rudeness or giving them the "cold shoulder." First of all, that is not very French at all--they are a delightful, warm people; you've just got to know how to unlock the mysterious puzzle of social formality. It takes a while to make a French friend, but once you've made one, you have a friend for life. It's sealed. The French are beautiful people--Parisians can be somewhat questionable, I'll grant those critics--but the true French people of outside Paris? Wonderful. And I'd always thought (and experienced, truth be told) that if you know the language and some cultural cues, you can unlock the heart of the stoniest Parisian and thoroughly enjoy any sojourn in Paris.

I hate to say it, but I no longer defend the Parisians. This time when I was in Paris, I was traveling alone and much more cognizant of my surroundings and how people interacted around me. There was no travel companion to watch my bags when I ran somewhere, or help me carry things, or to help with the myriad details of travel. No biggie--so it makes life a little more time-consuming, but when you're traveling alone, time is all you've got! So I tried to settle into my rhythm of taking care of all the details patiently and alone, really just enjoying the time to tool around a beautiful city with no plans in particular. Note that when I travel alone, I make an effort to dress conservatively and wear nothing that is in any way revealing. I just don't want to call attention to my single femininity when I'm traveling alone. Being alone can invite unwanted attention, and I wanted to minimize that aspect of it as much as possible. Note also that my large eyes, dark tan, brown hair, and Middle Eastern background all culminated to make me appear distinctively Arab-Caucasian in Paris.

On seven different occasions (SEVEN!), I was approached and propositioned by older Arab men. My appearance and demeanor, I reasoned, must be sending some sort of cultural message in Middle Eastern terms that I was looking for companionship, or that I was something of an object. I was beyond affronted--I moved between livid, intimidated, somewhat nervous, and frustrated--what on EARTH was up? What could I POSSIBLY be doing to invite this? I wasn't smiling at people; I wasn't making eye contact; I wasn't doing anything but walking alone in nice areas--Tuileries, Louvre, Rive Gauche. But this was a special cultural circumstance, I decided, and most certainly not a reflection on Parisians. These were immigrants mistaking me for something I was not.

And then we came to the Parisians. On so many occasions I needed help--even someone in a restaurant to call me a taxi, when I was carrying heavy bags and late for my hotel--and people who are supposed to do those sorts of things (restauranteurs, etc.) were singularly unhelpful, and bordering on amused by my predicament. For example, when I realized that I may be late for hotel check-out, I had Danielle phone the hotel to ask if they would charge extra. "Oh, no," they replied, " the hotel isn't full. Just come back whenever." So when I came in later, after a very difficult day, the hotelier was angry and managed to charge me 100 euros extra--a whole other night!!--for being a few hours late to check-out, all this after I'd expressly been given permission. I spoke French. I knew the culture. And still they were right b@st@rds.

I was angry enough to go to my room and cry and camp out there long enough to make SURE that they wouldn't be able to prepare the room in time in case someone else wanted it for the night. I paid for it; they were NOT going to profit twice from taking advantage of me. No, sir. I was too tired and frustrated to make a huge scene and refuse to pay. I did argue over the bill, but the hotel clerk and the manager threw a bewildering barrage of French at me... and honestly, I just wanted to get out of there and go home.

The French outside Paris were beyond wonderful--Danielle even wrote a nasty letter to the hotel and called them, and even the Parisian taxi cab driver who took me to the airport was super nice. But truly--my patience for Parisians in general has worn thin. After years of giving them the benefit of the doubt and taking it upon myself to try to "unlock" them and--what's more--to defend them to critics, I abandon ship. If people think Parisians are nasty--well, it's just up to the Parisians to change their minds. I'm done with them. I'm joining the ranks of the critics. I kind of feel, in an odd sense, like the Parisians have betrayed me--I fought for them for so long! But to hell with it. Screw 'em. Give me the rest of France and the rest of the world--I've had it with Paris. You can't even find decent (remotely affordable) food there anymore, it's become such a tourist trap. So that's it for me and Paris! Pity the shopping's so good, though. ... well, maybe I can hold my breath and run through long enough to go to Galleries Lafayette, Zara and Mango...

Well, I got home and started work! I really love my job. I mean, a lot more than I thought I would. It's interesting, engaging, challenging, rewarding, and the people are so supportive and straightforward. I really like working as a real associate as opposed to a summer, because (1) I'm no longer on a job interview, and (2) I'm not being doted on. I'm really loving it! I love being settled--the continuity of existence, not broken up into semesters and exams and finite units that start and stop on a schedule. There's no rush to this existence--work is work, and it will (hopefully?) be there forever. It will ebb and flow, but I have a routine and a place that will be mine for (hopefully) a long time. I love the rhythm of it. It's peaceful, comfortable, and it feels like the race of "study so you can get good grades so you can get a job so you can..." is over. I've got the job and I like it. If any of that changes, we'll deal with it when it arises. For now, I'm quite a happy camper.

My birthday is coming up next week, and the girls from work and I are going to dinner. I'm also going to my parents' lakehouse with some friends. I went to the symphony last night, and I've started going back to yoga. Susie Pup is fabulous. My bed is soft and comfy and I've discovered a great new writer, Tom Holt. I've learned how to make espresso the real Italian way. I love my mom, dad, family and friends. Life is good. : > )