The strangest thing

It has taken me a while to get over the homesickness, frustration over how to handle life and all of it’s issues; however, I think that I’m over the big hump.  Thanks a lot Mary, for the wonderful coaching.

Saturday was the first day for me to go out and fully explore Paris in all of it’s beauty.  And, as luck would have it, it rained.  However, I was not going to let that bring me down.  I donned my coat and umbrella and strided on our of the Hotel Mecure and to the Arc de Triumph via the Metro.  Standing in front of it, gives the impression that the entire city of Paris was built to accompany the Arc.  Outside of the huge circle, where the Arc lives, is a driving area  where the streets which are perfectly symmetrical, aligned and beam from the middle like a perfectly cut pizza.  I did not go up, because I knew that I would rather wait until I could see it on a sunny day.  Strolling down the Champs d’Ellises, I bought a French shirt, and some CD’s  (One from my favorite French rapper, MC Solaar.  Yes, I have picked up even the music here.)  I then trotted over to the Eiffel Tower, where I decided again to wait until it was a clear day to visit the top of.  I then walked around aimlessly, trying to get lost and find some more beautiful sights until I grew tired and headed home.

Here is where the loss of being alone really hit me.  I walked into my hotel room, delighted that I had seen all of these amazing sites, but sad that I had noone to share it with.  I had also been contemplating the relationship with Terri quite a bit during my walk and I realized what I really wanted.  I wanted Terri walking with me, arm in arm, as we toured the Eiffel Tower.  I wanted to kiss the woman I’m tell everyone about in the “Jewel of Europe”.  I wanted to spend time in one of the world’s most romantic city with “My bandcamp girl”.  However, I had hurt her earlier in the relationship, and the wounds were still fresh, so there was nothing I could do.  After getting on the phones and talking to my mom and Mary (Thanks girls!), I was reinvigorated and decided to do something I had never done before.  Go to a caberet!  Moulin Rouge already had their last show, so I opted for the one in the brochure, Crazy Horse.

What threw me for a loop was the number of Asian couples and women that were there.  George told me that he went to Moulin Rouge with his family, so I figured it wasn’t too raunchy.  The experience was somewhat erotic, but I actually enjoyed the magician the most.  Overall, if you’re looking for an interesting experience, check one out, but it’s not meant as a “peep show” or anything of the such.

Since I took the last show, the Metro was closed so I had to either walk home or take a taxi.  “It’s Paris!  Go walk!”, I told myself.  So, I popped in a CD in my player, and trotted down the Parisian roads at 2AM.  That’s when it hit me:

• I’m in Paris.

• I’ve got friends and family supporting me here.

• The hotel and food is paid for!

• I’m listening to Daft Punk, a great dance band.

• Life is good.

At that point, life looked different.  Rather than trying to rush home because it was 2AM and I was in a foreign city at night, I took my good ol’ time.  First, I walked to the Eiffel Tower and saw it at night.  (The lights were off.)  Then I moseyed on home, not caring if I was going the right way sometimes, and many times I wasn’t.

Along the way, I walked by a homeless person sleeping in the doorstop of a restaurant.  Being that I was feeling like I was on top of the world, I figured that my heart couldn’t go by ignoring that.  And the more I walked away from him, the louder the thoughts in my head got.  So, I turned around and gave him the change in my pocket.  I then walked back home some more and realized that for as good as life has been treating me, about $2 was not enough of a gift to “pay it forward”.  So, after trying to push those thoughts for a few minutes that I should just keep on walking, I turned around again and gave him everything I had.  This life has been too generous for me to not give SOMETHING back everywhere I go.  I then walked away with a clear conscience, knowing that he would use that money more preciously than I.

I arrived near home around 3AM and since I was hungry, I stopped by the Hippopatamus, a jive open till 5AM.  I definitely wasn’t prepared for what was inside.

Inside the Hippo, you can tell it’s a busy place.  And at 3AM, the line was long.  I waited around, trying to keep myself busy and trying not to pay too much attention to the punk kids that were occassionally yelling at each other.  However, I couldn’t tell if they were doing so jokingly or not.  (They’re speaking in French.)  It wasn’t until an older lady who was behind me told one of them something and then he went up to her right in her face and I swear he was cursing her out.  The 6’ black bouncer didn’t pay much mind to them until they started duking it out.  At first it was fairly contained until one of them kicked the other into some of the other tables and shattered the light fixture.  They kept going at it to the point where they threw treys and glasses at each other.  One even tried breaking a glass bottle to hit another with.  Me and the old lady ran to the back of the restaurant, hiding, but still watching with a curious eye.  Well, the bouncer threw them out and the police came.  The manager told us that were waiting in line to leave because it was closed.  Still hungry, but not wanting to completely leave the action, I went across the street to a windowed area.

Inside, they were playing “Bohemian Rhaposody”.  Amused that they were playing American music, I started mouthing the words, “Scatamoosh!  Scatamoosh!  Will you do the Van Damn Go!”  I looked around and saw a guy mouthing the words too.  We smiled and I thought it was funny and then sat down.  I then turned around and he made a motion for me to come sit down by him.  I figured, “What the heck.”

I walked over to him and asked, “Tu parle englais?”  shakes his hand “A little”  So, I sat down and had a really interesting conversation with him.  Apparently, he has been all over the world, Pakistan, US, London, etc and is a teacher.  (A very social one too.)  He spoke to me in the English he knew and I spoke to him in the French I knew.  The only thing that bothered me was that the cautious part of my brain was working overtime.  “When will he stiff me with the bill?”  “What if he puts something in my drink?”  “How do I know that he’s not a psycho-killer?”  However, I kept giving up those thoughts so that I could enjoy myself in this new position I found myself in.  After a while, said he was leaving and got up and paid his share of the bill.  I said goodbye and thought to myself, “Wow.  That was definitely interesting.”

So, there you have it folks.  Life for me is never boring.  Nor will I allow it to be.  It’s too precious.  It’s too short.  Live it up.