(last day in Paris)

Was forced to get up quite early since Andrew's siblings were coming to make use of the Apartment. It was quite a circus with almost two full families in the place. We all shared a little breakfast, then we all set off to go exploring Montmartre (and other areas) together.
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

We first went to the Sacre Couer, then to a little market area nearby. After that, we found a little restaurant and all crowded into a back room for lunch.
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15]

After lunch, I split from the pack & went back to the market area to see what souvenirs i could find. In the market square was a large restaurant area, surrounded on the outside by painter's (and other artisans) booths. They were all sitting there painting away, with many other samples of their work there on display for sale.

Unfortunately, as far as souvenir shopping goes, Montmartre wasn't a great place to find "esoteric" or "unique" gifts. It was mainly all the standard stuff, and mainly stuff that i didn't really feel was worth the prices asked. So, in the end, I think i ended up getting stuff for Joyce, Paul, Brax, and that's about it.

Now, my brother and I were scheduled to catch a 6:00pm train to Deauville, and I still wanted to get back to the Louvre again to get some pictures and to sit & sketch the view (an experiment that failed miserably). So i didn't get to just walk around Montmartre like I wanted to, since i spent most of my time there souvenir shopping. I did finally go catch the Metro to the Louvre, walked through the Jardin des Touilleries to the central plaza of the Louvre. I got a few pics from there, then walked back through the Garden to the viewing spot we'd found on our previous trip through.
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

After a couple failed attempts to sketch the scene, I just chilled out for a bit before catching the Metro to St. Lazare.

I actually got to the station early, so had to stand around and wait for the family to show up. They did, finally, the tickets were purchased, and Javan & I were on our way.

I think it was the first train ride for both of us, so we enjoyed the experience. We ended up taking lots of photos along the way, probably none of which will turn out.
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

Once we finally got to Deauville and found the street we wanted, I slapped him on the back and said "well, you're 15 now. I think you can handle seeing me smoke." (it was actually his birthday, so he'd literally just turned 15) I pulled out a cigarette and lit up. "But, if i ever catch you or hear of you smoking, I'll kick your ass."
[1] [2]

We found the "American House"–the place where my sister used to live that is owned by the exchange education program–and we got to meet the "Deauville girls" (and Jason)

We sat around with them for a while, the plan previously being that the parents (who were being driven to Deauville) should arrive before Javan and I. Since they hadn't shown up, and didn't show up for 30 – 45 minutes, we decided to go on across the street to the restaurant.

We waited for probably another 45 minutes or so, then just went on ahead and ordered. The pizzas were wonderful and very richly flavored. The pie i ordered had ham, cheese, and mushrooms, and was exquisite. The ham used was the French style ham which is smoked/very lightly cooked, not the cold-cut type we're used to.

The parents and Andrew & Sara all eventually did show up, but didn't join us for dinner.

Javan had some Kir & got his picture taken with all the Deauville girls–in France, on his birthday, while his schoolmates were in class. He was getting a big kick out of being the "coolest guy in his school."

After dinner, we went back over to the American house & hung out with Jason for a few more hours until we were afraid our parents just wouldn't let us in the hotel room if we stayed later.

Oh, and it was hilarious during dinner, getting to watch the whole scene with Margaret and her "boy" that's she'd had a year-long crush on.

She'd explained it a little before, but when we got to the pizza place, she was just freaking out. It was a total trip to watch. Plus, of course, all her friends were egging her on, but she couldn't talk to him on her own.

Eventually, as we were checking out, Jason talked to the guy and told him that "it's now or never", then basically dragged Margaret over to talk to him.

They set up a date for the following night, and Margaret was about to explode with excitement.

All in all, one of the funniest things I've seen in a while.

Oh, and it was (as i mentioned earlier) my little bro's 15th birthday. The Deauville girls (& Jason) had a cake for Javan, and there was a little celebration for him after dinner.

Didn't wake up today until 1:30pm, which isn't as bad as Day 2, but still set me back a bit. After taking a shower & doing Sara's laundry, it was well into 4:00pm and I was looking forward to a nice leisurely walk around Montmartre. I called Sara in an attempt to see if I could stop by her office to use the internet, but ended up reaching her at Paulo's where she was napping before prepping dinner.

I'd forgotten all about dinner, which was to be at 7:30pm. All I could think was "another day wasted in Paris."

I did find out from her all the details pertinent to dinner, like Paulo's address and the codes to enter his building. She also told me of a little internet shop on Rue de la Pompe where i could get online.

After finishing the laundry, I set out for the shop. I found it with no problems (i'm finally really getting the hang of navigating Paris' streets), and signed on. I attempted to activate international roaming on my phone, wrote a post for my weblog, and checked my email. No email from Katrina (co-worker) yet, so I guess either there's no company news or she's just forgotten to email me.

After fighting with the french keyboard for 20 minutes or so (very difficult for a touch typist to adjust to a completely foreign layout), I got done what i needed to do and set out for the next half of my stroll. Being 5:30pm or so, I decided to just head in the general direction of Paulo's.

I figured i'd stop at a cafe along the way for a croissant & coffee. I made my way somewhat aimlessly, which I enjoyed since i knew i was heading in the right direction. Of course, I did check the map frequently to make sure i was still on track.

Eventually, I found a nice place, and sat down, ordered a cappuccino & croissant, and read for a bit. This was probably one of the my most perfect moments in Paris. I was… unencumbered. No longer ill at ease with not knowing the language, fairly certain of where i was and where i was going (in a physical sense at least, if not in the sense of "in my life" in general), and didn't feel rushed to get there.

You could say that I finally just enjoyed the moment–being an American in Paris, sitting in a cafe surrounded by Parisians, drinking coffee, and chuckling quietly to myself as I read a book by one of my favorite authors.

I sat for a while until the waiter came out and gave me change, then leisurely got up and started on my way again.

I found Av. Mozart (my next "checkpoint") fairly quickly and started down towards Paulo's. Generally, as i've walked around Paris, i've looked at the shops on both sides of the street and occasionally at people as they'd pass.

About halfway to Rue Jasmin, I happened to look across the street to see a man who looked remarkably like my father. I looked back again, and realized that it was my father… and my mother, and my little brother. I hesitated briefly before deciding to cross the street and greet them.

Fate can certainly play strange cards sometimes, or as mom said (to which my dad, surprisingly enough, laughed)…(and i have no idea how to interpret that) "God watches out for us."

Anyway, as it turns out, the family & Kristin & Ryan were–for all intents and purposes–lost. They knew where they were, but they weren't sure where they were supposed to be going. They had bought one phone card that didn't work, then a second phone card that worked but wouldn't allow them to call Sara's cell phone. They were, in a word, stuck. Out of options, they were going to start trying to call peoples' work numbers (at 6:30pm, at shot in the dark at best).

So, here I am and here they are, fortune smiling down upon us. I noticed them, so one must wonder on whom fortune had laid her biggest hand.

In any event, family and friends successfully rescued by Fate, or God, or both; we proceeded to Paulo's without further incident. Dinner went wonderfully, the two families meeting for the first time.

After dinner, my plan was to make up for lost time and to go walk Montmartre. Of course, my little bro is like a lamprey at times and insisted on going with me. So, i went back to Sara's place with the fam., and we waited for Kristin and Ryan to show up with their luggage.

Once it got past 10:45, I realized that it would be much too late to get any decent time at all in Montmartre, since the last metro would be between 12:30 and 1:00 at the latest.

So, plans foiled once again, I got a head start on my journal and map notations.

Hopefully, tomorrow i'll get to walk around Montmartre before the 5 pm train to Deauville. There is still so much of Paris I haven't seen (& it is mostly my own fault, wasting three days), so it's pretty much certain that I will have to return when the days aren't so stressful for my sister, and when I can afford it.

I've also realized that the trip would have been much better with a companion. Someone who could ensure I get up and go to bed at a decent hour.

As much as it's nice to have Paris one-on-one (or one-on-2-million, depending on your point-of-view), it would also be nice to share it with someone.

i actually managed to get up early enough today to go meet Sara for lunch, and we went to a little place near her work & got some regular French food (i.e. not fancy, but still decidedly French). i was struggling with the concept that i would look "silly" if i ordered coffee with the meal. it's been four days, and i think i've had maybe six cups of coffee, four of those being espressos. What i wouldn't give for a good cup of Kroger brand automatic-drip right now. i've been staving off the cravings with Earl Grey since Sara showed me where her teapot and tea stash were.

Anyway, after lunch, Sara headed for home since she wasn't feeling well and was taking a half-day off of work. i headed to the Trocadero for a good look at the Eiffel Tower.

It is quite a site walking out on the terrace of the Palais de Challot and getting the first full-on unobstructed view of the Tower. Of course the Trocadero is a major tourist attraction, so i didn't allow myself to feel like a heel for grabbing my camera and taking several shots.

Interesting thing was, as i was meandering on the terrace, 2 couples and one giddy little Asian youth asked me to take pictures of them standing on the terrace with the Tower in the background. i briefly debated asking them to return the favor, but decided that pictures of me with the Tower would be silly. if i regret that decision later, i can always drag my brother down there and have him take some.

After some pics from the terrace, i walked down the steps toward the Tower. Crossing one of the streets, i found a vendor selling souvenirs, and i made my first souvenir purchase of the trip.

i crossed the Seine and approached the Tower. At the intersection of roads running in front, i stood at the corner and took several more photos. Then i walked down along the Seine to the Place de la Resistance, where i searched for a bit before finding the dog-shit sign my sister had told me about at lunch. i took some pics of it for her.

Next, i crossed the Seine again, stopping to take a few shots of the river, then went back to the little cafe from my first night in Paris–my first official Parisian navigational landmark.

i stopped at the cafe and successfully ordered "un caf?" without having to resort to english. i sat for a while and rested from my walk.

After coffee, i set out initially to find a Metro station so i could buy some more tickets. i didn't actually find the station i was looking for, and figured back-tracking to an uncertain location would be a waste of time. i pressed on, heading for the Arc de Triomphe.

i got there with no troubles, and took several daylight shots of the arc which, since i'd remembered my wide-angle lens this time, included some full views instead of the partial views i got last night.

Satisfied with the number of pictures and feeling body-tired, i walked down Av. Foch towards "home." Before i turned onto Faisanderie, i walked down to the nearby Metro station and bought my new tickets.

Once i got home, i realized i was completely exhausted and didn't want to go back out immediately, so i hung out with sis, read a book, and had dinner with Sara & Andrew a bit later. After dinner, and after washing dishes, the debate raged… go out now for only an hour or a little more, or read and go to bed early…

i decided to stay in for the night to give my muscles a little break, and so i can get to sleep at a "more reasonable" hour. Of course, it's now 2:14 am… which, by some standards is still quite unreasonable.

But hey, at least i'm finishing my journal entry at 2:15, instead of just getting started on it.

—

and thus went my most "productive" day in Paris. it was a good day.

for the last couple months, there's been this thing going on in my life that i've not really delved into here on bipolar. well, now that that's been brought to it's (inevitable?) conclusion, and since i can't say these things to the involved party, i thought i'd share them with you. who better to unload on than a motley collection of close friends and complete strangers?

she has returned once again, or rather, had returned. a couple months ago–after a particularly low point in what has become an otherwise smooth emotional roller-coaster, and after i'd just been thinking about her with more frequency–she called me up out of the blue.

she'd been almost completely out of my life for close to two years, and the last time i'd even seen her (at a distance) was more than a year earlier. she called me up and we talked. we talked and we hung out. we hung out and spent hours together. me, being the eternally optimistic, overly forgiving person that i am, was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

i was doing alright, really i was. maintaining emotional control, not letting my thoughts run away, not letting my heart get carried off without my head. i was wary. optimistic, forgiving, understanding, but wary.

among the many things she expressed to me during the time we were hanging out, was the "fact" that she had missed me over the year(s), thought about me quite often, and just wanted to be able to hang out with me again. how sweet.

and i tried to believe her, i really did. unfortunately, the same warning signs kept popping up that i'd learned to take notice of in our previous "moments." she would call and complain bitterly about how bad her days were, about how she had no friends, no one to talk to, nothing to do. how utterly bored she was. i let these things slide. i know her. but, (and does anyone else notice this or is it just me?) it seemed to me like i was a "last resort"–she had no one else to call, so she called me. there was nothing better going on, so she wanted to hang out with me.

personally, i like my friends to be busy. i like for them to be busy and still want to at least say "hey" to me, to at least take a few minutes and just talk about nothing. i have always got something i can be doing, and sometimes i have a bad habit of letting that keep me from doing this for my friends, but that's my fault, something i'm aware of, and something i'm trying to work on. just ask nate, he'll tell you.

anyway, i know that i don't want to be "better than nothing" for anyone, no matter what the circumstances. and, especially if this girl who has fucked me over in extreme ways and on multiple occasions wants to come back into my life and tell me she cares and misses me, she'd better damn well be able to show me that that's true. she'd better say "y'know, i've got some work that i need to get done, but i *really* want to see you tonight. you wanna go get some coffee for an hour or so?"

so, then this france trip came along, and after we'd been spending all this time getting to know each other again, trying to be friends again, talking about what the possibilities were for us as something maybe more than friends, i leave for a week. i leave for a week, and the night before i leave, i have to practically *beg* her to come hang out with me to see me before i take off. hello, flag on the play.

and i called her from the airport the next day and i said "hey, if you're thinking about me, you know you can call my cell phone and leave me little messages throughout the week. i'd like that." when i get back home, there's one message–from Tuesday. fine, y'know, she's busy working, she feels weird leaving me message she knows i'm not getting. fine. whatever. no big deal.

i get home after my long ass flight and call her, but she doesn't answer. i call her again before i go to bed that night, again, no answer. finally, she calls me the next day, and talks about her drunken weekend and apologizing that she didn't call back sooner. she tells me that school's just starting and she's really busy. she can't see me. she's got class tonight. she calls me after class on her way home, and says she has to do homework. she can't see me.

well, so much for being missed.

so, i say y'know what, nevermind. if she wants to hang out, she'll call me. when she's not busy with school, she'll call me. after not hearing from her for several days, the obvious realization sets in. in actuality, she doesn't really care. she doesn't really miss me. she makes no effort to spend even the smallest amount of time with me after i've been on the other side of the planet for a week, so it's fairly obvious that i just don't mean that much to her. and if she doesn't care, then why should i?

i haven't called her back since… i guess it was last wednesday or so, when we talked and i told her some of this stuff. about how i felt like a "convenience friend". how i felt that she didn't really care. she, of course, gave me all sorts of excuses, apologized again, and told me that she really did care. well, again, i think the truth is fairly obvious. she called yesterday and bitched about how "the phone works both ways." my response was just "i know, i've just got a lot going on right now." she called again today to say that she "got the message," and that she was just calling to say "hi" and "goodbye."

i thought about all the different ways that i could undertake to get the explanation of all this across to her–i could call her, i could email her, i could write her a letter and take it to her at work. but i know that, if i did that, it wouldn't make any difference. it would be wasted breath, wasted thought, wasted effort. she won't get it, she won't accept it, she won't learn from it.

still, i had to get this off my chest somehow. i had to go through it to get past it. now it's out there. now it's done.

Not with a bang, but a whimper.

Today was my first day "on my own" in Paris, so, of course, I did the classic Matt maneuver of getting in a good 12 hour sleep. It doesn't help that i've been staying up until 4:30 – 5:00 in the morning. Add to that the lack of an alarm clock, et voilà, sleep city.

So i woke up a bit depressed and embittered, slowly smoked a few cigarettes, had a bit of old baguette with olive oil & pepper, then attempted to call Sara on her cell.

About 20 minutes after calling her, Andrew showed up from work and began preparing dinner, which was to be in two hours. I decided that 2 hours was a little too short a time for me to go walking about, so i just grabbed a book and sat for a while.

Sara got home a bit later, then Andrew's parents arrived for the dinner. Andrew made fajitas which were quite good. His parents were pleasant and enjoyable company, and it was good to meet my sister's soon-to-be inlaws.

After dinner and a bit of digestion time, i decided to go ahead and do some of the walking I'd planned for earlier today. Andrew & Sara scuttled off to bed, and after a 20 minute fight with a broken zipper on my backpack, I got on my way towards the Arc de Triomphe for some night photos.

On my way down Faisanderie and down Av. Bugeaud, I had to avoid a few prostitutes (both male & female), and merely mumbled a quiet "bonsoir" to one particular girl who shouted "Hi!" to me in a bright cheerful voice. I was making excellent use of brax's city-stride, walking fast without (hopefully) looking like i was trying to.

At some point, i lost my bearings and turned off Av. Foch, if, indeed, i was ever on it, and arrived somehow on Raymond Poincare and walked down to the Place de Victor Hugo. i attempted to reorient myself with the help of my map, but ended up walking down Victor Hugo in the wrong direction anyway. i ended up at Av. Henry Martin before i realized my error, and turned around there & headed back up Victor Hugo.

Of course, had i been thinking properly, i could have gone on to the Trocadero for night-shots of the Eiffel Tower, but i was too set on the Arc as my primary destination.

I finally made it to the Arc & tried to get several shots from unobstructed perspectives, but i'm afraid most of them will be worthless. I also had left my wide-angle lens back at the apt., so I wasn't really able to get any full shots. i seem to be taking a lot of panoramas anyway, so i guess it just fits the photographic theme for this trip anyway.

Once i was mostly satisfied with the number of pictures taken, I set off down the Champs Élysées. Again, had i been thinking more clearly, or planned ahead a little better, i could have taken a number of much straighter shots to the Eiffel.

About halfway down the Champs Élysées, I turned right onto Av. Montaigne, the expensive street from the first night's adventures. Along the way, I found the expensive dress, shoes, and purse, and got a couple pictures of them for entertainment value.

At the end of Montaigne, I passed the cafe where we'd sat for drinks and crossed over to Av. de President Wilson.

Originally, i was going to walk up to the Trocadero, but i checked the time and realized that i really should get home & to bed (it's now four hours later as i write this… so much for good intentions). So i veered off onto Longchamp and walked the rest of the way home.

Just before i reached Faisanderie, a man turned and called out to me (in French, of course) and the suddenness of having to interact blew what little french i had straight out of my mind. "No parlez français," i replied.

No matter, he knew enough english to request a cigarette, said "merci" several times, and then was on his way. I didn't think to ask if he needed a light as well, and i couldn't think of a way to say "it's nothing" in French (or "you're welcome" for that matter.)

I got home shortly thereafter and took a few outside shots of the apt. before going inside.

Tomorrow i need to get some more Metro tickets and get out of the 16th for a while. After lunch with Sara, anyway.

—

a shorter one today, as i ended up screwing up most of that day by sleeping or getting lost. c'est la vie.