les têtes des poissons

I went to the Préfecture de Police today in Paris. It's a lovely old building beside the river in the heart of Paris. Préfecture basically means administration.

I had to go and ask some questions answered regarding my current visa situation. My visa, that permits me to work and live in France like any normal citizen of France is going to expire in about 1 month and a half, and I was informed today that it is absolutement obligatoire that I return to Canada before the expiry of the visa. My job however does not end until the start of July. Therefore, I have to leave the country early and return to Canada. I am not opposed of course to spending a summer in Toronto, infact, I know it will be a wonderful summer. Toronto is lovely in the summer. I look forward to days spent scavenging around Kensington Market on hot days with my friends, and warm summer nights spent on cafe and bar patios, bikerides, days to the beach, and maybe even make it to center island this summer. I have established such a life for myself here in Paris. It will be strange to return to Canada after living in France for one year. Of course. This is expected. Not bad strange, just different. I will come back to France in September, this is sure. It is my home.

My head is full of thinks. Yes, thinks. Not things, just plenty of thinking. There are too many thinks going through my head right now. Topic change.

After the préfecture, Thomas and I went to a cafe just across the river. In a tourist area, so of course we paid far too much for a cafe au lait and espresso, but it is ok, the view was nice. We were talking in a mix of french and english about the beautiful historic architecture of Paris. There was construction being done on a beautiful historic building on the river. I asked what kind of construction was going on under the tarp.... are they replacing the lovely old building with something modern? I hope not. He told me that they were just rebuilding something damaged. But rebuilding it to look exactly the same as before. He was telling me that it is not legal to build something not to look like the original buildings of Paris. It is too much a part of the image of the city. It makes sense. Paris would have a completely different image if it didn't stay exactly how it has been for the last hundreds of years. Most of France is the same. He was telling me about an historic house near his summer house on the Basin d'Arcachon. I have seen it when taking a walk along the beach. It is a gorgeous mansion that must be atleast 300 years old. There are very strict rules that come with living in that house. You must confirm with historic committee/ elders of the village before hammering a nail in the wall, changing a broken window, cooking garlic in the kitchen, shitting in the 5th floor toilet....

My friends and I used to love this song in highschool.

yeahhhh

probleme airport mac ox x

Today after work he called me and said that he couldn't go to the cinema tonight, but that he was going home to work a bit instead. He wanted me to come with him. Of course I did. He picked me up on his scooter. The weather is just so beautiful at the moment that I can leave my window open almost all the time. There is a light spring breeze, warm enough now that it doesn't even make you cold. just cool. So my window is open, and he has been coming to my house to take me with him on his scooter lately. I know the sound of his little white vespa now. He calls me when he has arrived and is waiting for me just outside the building, with my helmet in hand, smoking a cigarette.

I know he is there before he calls now.

We arrived at his house in time to eat with his mom. I could smell garlic cooking, and vinaigrette for a salad. Walking inside the only light on was the kitchen. It felt so nice, the smells, the dark, and my bare feet on the new hard wood floors. It felt familier. I suddenly forgot everything that had been stressing me out from the day.
"mmmm you have such a cosy apartment." I said to him as we walked down the almost pitch black hallway to leave our things in his room. I lightly keep my finger on his back because in the dark I still often miss the door to his room. He knows. where it is. perfectly.
"Such?" he asked.
One of the things of having a boyfriend whose first language is not the same as mine is that he may not know every word I use. Naturally. It is of course the same for me in French. I asked him if he knew what such meant, and he said yes, he just liked the emphasis I used on how the home was so cosy.

I asked myself then, how I would describe the word such to someone who had never heard it before.

so + much = such

I think maybe the word such is actually a contraction.... But I couldn't have said "mmmm you have so much a cosy apartment" rather than "mmmm you have such a cosy apartment." But I still think so + much = such.

gut

It's 1:13am, Paris France.

I vacuumed my bedroom yesterday, but in order to do so I had to move all of the shit off my floor onto my bed. It's not my fault my room is impossible to keep tidy, it's the size of a locker.... and I never kept my high school locker tidy. Why am I talking about lockers? This is what happens when my fingers touch the keyboard. Scatter-brained random thoughts, that's what happens.

so, now it is 1:16, Paris France.

(Proof that I did not leave the city in the past 3 minutes)

I should be sleeping, but I still have homework to do, and a bed to clean. My brain is full of thoughts. Some selfish thoughts. I have been feeling guilty lately for wanting so badly to stay in Paris. I want to stay here. Want. Ew. I would like to stay here. But it's more than "would like", so it's want. Which is just selfish. And my mom sent me an email the other day which related to my thoughts perfectly. I was stressing out about university here, and my working holiday visa, and french customs etc.

And this is what she wrote:

This is a whole new topic, but something I heard about yesterday that sheds a whole new light on every situation and sort of puts life in perspective.

You remember Lauren, our neighbours Tom and Henrietta's granddaughter. And do you remember her mother Maria and her father Felix? They've been living in Brighton, England, for the past few years. Five weeks ago Maria started having excruciating headaches, went in for testing (CT scan, MRI) and they discovered a massive brain tumour. She was operated on immediately (March 7) and seemed to be recovering well.....until she spiked a fever, which meant infection, which was fatal. She passed away yesterday. She was around 49. I was shocked and Henrietta is a basketcase. Felix doesn't want her to come over to Europe though. He says there is nothing she can do at this point, so she is staying put here.

Anyway, depressing news, but I wanted you to know, and it does put life in perspective in many ways, I feel. And it also makes me feel even better about coming to see you and seeing a city and country I otherwise would never have had the opportunity to see.

I love you sweetie !!!!

I always forget that things like that can happen in life. It would be wrong to spend my entire life worrying about the things that 'could' happen, however, it would be wise for me to consider all of the wonderful things I have and have experience, and be more open to possibilities.

This being said, I am not saying I am completely ok with leaving France. I am far too content here with the life I have. But after reflecting, and the email from my mom, I am going to be more open letting life just take it's course, and if something doesn't work out as planned, find an alternative, or be content with the cards I have been dealt. No time for pouting and pity, that is just a waste of time.



Life is grand. More than grand. Je suis vraiment content.

on change, on range

Aujourd'hui: April 1st. Is it really here already? Dear month of April, do not pass as fast as March.

Words of the day....

corde à sauter (skipping rope)

fish
chocolate cake
fetus
scraped knee
rosy cheeks
beirut
tears
small spoons

I went with the children today to a park above the Viaduc des Arts, which is a beautiful park 1 minute from my house that is built above an old railway station. It was beautiful and sunny today, just like yesterday and tomorrow I hope. The shadows of the children in the photos remind me of fetuses. I know that sounds strange and morbid. And I guess it kind of is.