le sud: les derniers jours.

finally, the last post about the south! this is the last in a series of three. here are parts one and two.

saturday, we woke up incredibly late. by the time i got downstairs, i had missed breakfast completely and it was time for lunch. and what an amazing lunch it was. as this was the last complete day we had with everybody, romain's mother outdid herself. the first course was a tomato-mozarella salad. normally i detest tomatoes, but i loved this salad! the tomatoes were juicy and sweet, and i had missed mozarella cheese. cheese is looked at very differently here. the cheese that is cheap back in the states, like cheddar or mozarella, is really expensive. but goat cheese and camembert and fancy cheeses which would be gourmet in the states are ridiculously cheap here.

the second course was a curry with fish and rice. i dont usually eat curry with fish, mainly chicken. but this was good! jerome's wife detests spice, so mme clerc made a very mild curry. but for those who like spice, [comme moi!], she included a side dish of spice to add to it. so it was really very good.

the dessert was amazing, however. she made a chocolate mousse! all from scratch! plus, after seeing my penchant for strawberries, ie me eating a whole carton all by myself, she served fresh strawberries with it.

after lunch, while his brothers prepared for their departure the next day, we went to one of the little towns in the south around his house. this one was called saint-maxine. the architecture in the south is amazing, and so quaint. the town just felt so romantic! romain, having grown up there, didnt see it that way though.

we stopped and got some ice cream, which claimed to be the best of saint-maxine. it might have been, at one time, before it had been frozen, defrosted, then frozen again. but the guy gave me extra chocolate to garnish my cone and the flavor was amazing, so the icy chunks didnt bother me.

when i focus, i lick my lips. i was having a really hard time choosing soap. ro caught me at that perfect moment, right when i was mid-thought. the south is known for its soap, its really quite special. we bought soap from a tiny stand in front of a square, dozens of bright colors and soft scents gently grabbed my attention and i just had to have one. but despite my protests, both ro and his brother bought me one each. i have saved one for america, but am using one in the shower now. my skin has never been this soft before.

saint-maxine boasts the church where the tomb of mary magdalene is housed. also, the cave where mary magdalene hid. but i didnt go see that one. we went to see the tomb, but it wasnt that impressive. im not religious, i dont know the story of mary magdalene, so this wasnt a very moving experience for me. im sorry to say, we didnt even spend five minutes in the church.

we had to cut our "outing" short, because in french culture dinner is at a specific time and if you miss, there is hell to be had. we arrived two minutes before dinner, and sat down immediately at the table. ro's mother had worked even harder, since this was the last dinner we would all have together. honestly, it might have been one of the weirdest dinners i have ever had.

i dont like cooked vegetables, so i pretended to eat those, slipping them onto ro's plate when no one was looking. but the cod was amazing, and the yellow sauce was even better. i've started buying it here even. its called aioli, and it makes everything better. the snail isnt an escargot, its a sea snail. it is eaten cold and it is absolutely disgusting. not even the yellow sauce could make it better.

after dinner, romain and i went and met up with his friends. i had a horrible time. his friends reminded me of my friends in flagstaff: the hippie clothes, the hippie hair, and the hippie music. but the resemblance stopped there. they were all unbelievably rude. no matter what language i spoke, french or english, they wouldnt speak to me. romain says its because they were afraid, but i didnt get a feeling of fear. it was more like apathy, no only simply cared to speak to me. there is a difference in the youth of paris and the youth of the south: the parisians always want more friends, are used to strangers, and welcome them. the youth of the south is the exact opposite; they have their groups, dont need more, and dont know how to act when strangers come amongst them.

i am willing to admit some fault, however. if lauren who speaks french fluently had been in my place, she would have been fine. or if katy who doesnt speak french but doesnt care had been there, she would have been fine. but me, who speaks french but is afraid, failed. i am too shy to ever succeed in those kind of situations.

sunday, we stayed around the house. ro's brothers all went back to paris. we had waited too long and the sunday train had sold out, so we were forced to leave monday. mme clerc was unbelievably sad. the house was empty and quiet, and she went to bed for most of the day. it was the first time i felt intrusive, knowing if i hadnt been there romain would have been comforting his mother instead of entertaining me. i tried to take a nap, but he wouldnt hear of it. eventually, i got too bored and we went for a walk. he took me to what he called a man-made lake. but in arizona, the man-made lakes are actual lakes, with fishing and boating and whatnot. this was more like a man-made puddle. but it was pretty, and i enjoyed the downtime with romain.

when we got back, his mother had prepared a lunch: leftover cod and cold microwavable pizza. she was definitely depressed that everyone had left. ro and his dad were walking on eggshells around her, and i stayed quiet, offering random french phrases and large awkward smiles.

monday, we didnt do anything but leave the south. ro's dad took us to the train station, and ro seriously looked like he was going to cry. t

my time in the south was amazing. to anyone who likes to travel, i would seriously recommend going to the south of france at least once. i was very apprehensive about meeting ro's family, not only because they speak french, but specifically due to the fact that one day ro and i will have to end. i cant live in france my whole life, and he has no desire to come to america. so, it felt very weird getting to know a family that i may never be part of. but i am very glad i did it, i have learned so much about french culture, but even more about ro and who he really is. i think one of the most interesting things is knowing where someone comes from, and how they became who they are!

this was the last thing i saw while pulling out of the train station in aix:

does it look like an impressionist painting? well, that's cause it inspired many of them. all the most famous french impressionists lived in aix, and painted that exact mountain. as an art history major, that was the most inspiring image i've seen in a while.

hard truths.

life in paris is going incredibly well. it's hard to believe i only have seven weeks left here, then it's on to another chapter in my life. we're still in the basic process of planning, so im going to keep it under wraps until decisions have been made. but here's a little hint of what might possibly be in my future: 

well, ive been inspired by a recent blogging trend. blogs are edited, secrets i am reluctant to share are omitted, and things i am ashamed of in real life are hidden and kept quiet.

i am not ashamed of that. my blog isnt fake, nor is it overly happy. there are just a few things im not ready to share with the entire world. since this post is about honesty, there are even a couple of things i'd share with the world, but not with the family who reads this blog. something about anonymity makes it easier to confess that which plagues you. a bunch of strangers worried about me is nothing like my family worrying.

but in the spirit of honesty, im going to open up a little part of me i had kept closed.

my mother has/had cancer. im not really sure what the technical terms mean, 'remission' and 'markers'. im too far away, not in constant contact, for my parents to explain properly. [this is the only picture of her i have on my computer. she doesnt pose for pictures, she didnt know i was taking this. its blurry and the background is horrible, but i like how its soft, just like her.]

we realized something was wrong the wednesday before i left for england. my mother and i had a dual doctors appointment [my mother and i are really close. i havent been to the doctor once without her. emergenices excepted.] we finished up the half of my appointment, and the doctor then asked my mother to strip so of course i hightailed it out of there. after a few minutes, the waiting room became too tedious and i went back inside. the doctor, assuming i knew everything, didnt mince her words as they were discussing the symptoms. i had never seen my mother so shaken, so quiet. i knew something was up, but other tests were ordered so i wasnt too apprehensive.

i had a week before i left for england. my mother had promised to sew some skirts up for me, and i selfishly pushed her, even though it hurt her stomach. for you to understand why i do that, you must understand that because of my gastroparesis, i live with literally constant stomach pain. not a single day goes by where my stomach doesnt hurt. ive gotten to the point where i can ignore it, control my nausea, and maintain a healthy weight. its horrible, but i am thus not compassionate to stomach pain. i really try to be, but i just dont understand how for ordinary people, the stomachache is completely debilitating. if i were to give into that urge, i would accomplish nothing. even typing this, my stomach is killing me. if i caved, i would throw up and lay in bed all day, wasting this beautiful day in paris.

anyway, the day before i left, we were panicking. the minutes were numbered, even seconds counted. my mother took a couple of hours to lay down, her stomach hurt so badly. i simply couldnt understand this. although i was smart enough to recognize that things were getting worse.

the next day, i left bright and early to go to the airport. after a few hours of chitchat, i was ready to go through security and board the plane. the second i stepped up to give my mother a hug, she started bawling. the most tears i have ever seen from her, came out on that morning. it was then that i realized something was terribly terribly wrong. these werent the normal 'oh, i wont see you for a year' tears. these were tears of 'i dont want to die while youre in another country'. i managed to tear myself away, and walk through security. my mother followed me on the sidelines, still crying. security tried to remove her, but upon seeing her tears and me standing in the security line, they actually let her stay until i was out of sight.

her deterioration was something i didnt understand as i wasnt able/allowed to see. it was shown to me in small selfish markers: skype calls and emails were only answered by my dad, text messages went ignored, my credit bill responsibilities, after her missing a couple of payments, were passed to me, and most painfully, advice was sought but not given. i had always been used to asking my mom advice, she has a way of saying what i dont want to hear in a way that makes me want to hear it.

then, in december, my family finally allowed me to see all of what had happened to my mom. she was hospitalized, and i left london a week early and returned home. i missed my exams, and my grades have suffered, but i dont regret it.  she was let out of the hospital the night i returned. the skeleton that laid on the sofa was a terrifying sight. my mother has always been overweight. always. i cant remember a time when she didnt wrap me up in tight, enveloping, and comforting bear hugs. except this time. she looked like she had lost hundreds of pounds and her hair was falling out. it was terrifying. i laid with her in her bed, where i would for the rest of the month. it was in that first night, drugged out of her mind from the hospital, that my mother asked me not to go to france. now, that is a selfish statement. if i stayed it would have been only for her. my mother doesnt make selfish statements. ever. she is the most giving, mst self-compromising, most suffering -in-silence woman i have ever met. she has never once asked me for anything, even though sometimes my choices hurt her. until then.

i think telling her i had to leave was the hardest thing ive ever done. explaining to your possibly-dying mother how you are going to leave her alone for seven months is a nearly impossible task. especially because i didnt want to go, i wanted to stay and feed her food until she fattened up again. i spent the rest of the month shoving food at her and refusing to leave her alone for even a few minutes. my mother was too out of it to remember that request, and said nothing when i left for the airport. she was too sick to come with us. which, horrible as it is, made it easier to leave. i could have never boarded that plane if my weepy mother stood at security again.

[this is my father. he is sleeping with his first grandchild.] my whole life, i have been closer to my mother. that is not to say i dont love my father. i adore both of my parents, they have given me so much more than they were able to. as parent roles go my mother is the one i confide in, my father is the one who i want to be like. but, in the past year, i have had to rely much more heavily on my father. our entire family has. my mother was the breadwinner, my dad was the artist. unfortunately, an artist salary does not support a daughter in another country and a wife on chemo. so my dad has stepped up in ways i never thought possible, ways im not so sure i could have. when i get back, i am going to step up too. i have put my parents in a horrible situation which i will endeavor to fix whenever i return home, be it in july or january.

i am lucky, we are lucky. my mom is doing loads better; in remission, markers are down, returned to work, etc. there was even a celebration dinner and she's taken to sewing again.

well, i think thats all the truth one post can handle. im sure many of you have been touched by something similar, cancer is something that unfortunately affects us all.

recently,

i've realized that i only seem to post about romain, and i do so much more than that! its just that relationships dont come naturally to me, so times with romain are documented and dissected. everything else, though amazing, comes easier to me. i dont need to think them through as much.


with this post, i want to give you dear readers a true glimpse of what my life is here. i wanted to show what paris is truly like, which is a very wild, very crazy, very fashionable, night life. just this weekend, i snuck into a closed party at three in the morning, by climbing fences and hiding behind cars. the next day, i went to an abandoned pool and saw three djs [including justice!], and lounged on an inner tube.

[bottom left corner.]

[left center.]

 [bottom right corner.]

other nights have included drunken clubbing at social club, 

or colorful nights spent at festivals,

 we've gone to clubs with pools inside of them,

[this picture of katy and denis is amazing.]

drank on bridges over the seine,

seen our friends perform live, and gotten tear-gassed. paris goes insane in the night time, and its usually so much fun. rather than describe the nights, i thought id post some of the pictures!

no matter what we decide to do, it usually ends looking something like this:

i hope i didnt overload with the photos! i still owe a bunch of posts, i just wanted to show something different than usual. :)


oh, and very few of those photos were actually taken by me.