Friday, February 27, 2009
Preface
Such a strange feeling today-this evening-my last on the European continent. I'll wake tomorrow before the sun and board a plane to cross "the pond," to the New World, to my goal destination-to South America. Things are seemingly happening quickly, all at once, but I feel like I'm in slow motion. I planned out my remaining three months and bought tickets to Connecticut departing from Colombia. This seems like a big step-one of the final steps-to cross the Atlantic and arrive in the same timezone as my countrymen-albeit a different hemishpere. I feel like I'd be better prepared for a sea journey where days, sometimes weeks seperate departure from arrival. Enough time to let go of Europe, to reflect and think of the things I've experienced and learned and to detatch from it slowly in a neutral environment like the open sea, which speaks no common language, waves no flag or shares a universal climate or ethnicity. Then finally, to look towards the horizon of the setting sun, to find the patch of green and prepare for it, study it while I'm still a ways off from its shores. Then perhaps I'd be eager-with proper preparedness-to step onto the sand ready for whatever may come.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Let go
"We're going to have to let you go."
That's what you want to hear from a policeman when you've been caught red-handed, or from your parents on prom night when that gorgeous girl finally accepted your invitation, or from a fisherman after you-a beautiful rainbow trout-were caught by his favorite dry fly and getting dangerously close to a future in a frying pan. It's not what you want to hear from you boss, in the middle of a global financial crisis, five thousand miles from home, when what you're being "let go" from is what many would consider at most, to be a dream job and at the least, a pretty sweet gig to occupy your time before going onto the next adventure. It gets no better when that next adventure needs to be determined within the next four days at which time you're made to leave your home, food and friends for.... well, it doesn't matter where you go, you just can't stay here.
You can imagine my sense of nervousness as I pieced together places to stay for days at a time, only days in advance. I stayed up later, I slept in longer, started reading more, thinking more, worrying more. Not that it was necessarily necessary. I was taken care of. A good friend who lives near where I worked said I could stay the whole week if I needed it. I would have been completely lost without him. Thank you Zola. Before long, as the news spread across the creek, my friend in Wales offered to share his dorm room for a few days while I figured out where I was going next. Thanks Jonny.
To fill you in, I'd been helping out with a holiday company in the French Alps. A usual day was spent with breakfast and a morning prayer meeting and then usually cleaning rooms and making beds until lunch at which time we had a few hours to go hit the ski slopes before coming back to the chalet to prepare for dinner. I quickly became a star player in the after-dinner dishwashing and could usually be found there or in the kitchen while dinner was being served to the guests. My co-workers were a young bunch from England who were full of energy-too much energy sometimes-but easy to get along with and people who I hope to keep in touch with in the future. Thanks guys, you know who you are.
I had hoped to move to Paris with Olivier when he got an apartment, however everyone is looking for an apartment these days and he ended up sharing a house with some others. I could come for a visit but staying for a long period of time or looking for work would be out of the question. Olivier tried his hardest to make something work for me, but in the end, some things just don't turn out the way you thought they would. (Terimah kasih banyak Olivier!) When you pray for guidance you shouldn't be upset when doors begin to close in your face. Some are closed before you walk into the room, others are closed after you've been pushed out of them. But sometimes, the easiest way to make a decision is to decide what I don't want to do, or what I can't do. Then it's easier to focus on what is possible. Guidance.
In Singapore I remember writing in my journal that I was anxious to get to Latin America. I wasn't concerned with Europe and was in fact willing to bypass it altogether in order to be eating gallo pinto and listening to reggaeton all the sooner. However, I was still holding on to Europe. I was holding onto working, holding onto another ski season and holding onto another continent, another language and another year abroad. The longer I stayed in France, the further I'd have to wait to get to South America. Perhaps the doors have properly closed, perhaps it's time to move on, perhaps it's my time to let go of some of my small desires in order to fulfill my larger ones. So this is me, let go, and letting go.
That's what you want to hear from a policeman when you've been caught red-handed, or from your parents on prom night when that gorgeous girl finally accepted your invitation, or from a fisherman after you-a beautiful rainbow trout-were caught by his favorite dry fly and getting dangerously close to a future in a frying pan. It's not what you want to hear from you boss, in the middle of a global financial crisis, five thousand miles from home, when what you're being "let go" from is what many would consider at most, to be a dream job and at the least, a pretty sweet gig to occupy your time before going onto the next adventure. It gets no better when that next adventure needs to be determined within the next four days at which time you're made to leave your home, food and friends for.... well, it doesn't matter where you go, you just can't stay here.
You can imagine my sense of nervousness as I pieced together places to stay for days at a time, only days in advance. I stayed up later, I slept in longer, started reading more, thinking more, worrying more. Not that it was necessarily necessary. I was taken care of. A good friend who lives near where I worked said I could stay the whole week if I needed it. I would have been completely lost without him. Thank you Zola. Before long, as the news spread across the creek, my friend in Wales offered to share his dorm room for a few days while I figured out where I was going next. Thanks Jonny.
To fill you in, I'd been helping out with a holiday company in the French Alps. A usual day was spent with breakfast and a morning prayer meeting and then usually cleaning rooms and making beds until lunch at which time we had a few hours to go hit the ski slopes before coming back to the chalet to prepare for dinner. I quickly became a star player in the after-dinner dishwashing and could usually be found there or in the kitchen while dinner was being served to the guests. My co-workers were a young bunch from England who were full of energy-too much energy sometimes-but easy to get along with and people who I hope to keep in touch with in the future. Thanks guys, you know who you are.
I had hoped to move to Paris with Olivier when he got an apartment, however everyone is looking for an apartment these days and he ended up sharing a house with some others. I could come for a visit but staying for a long period of time or looking for work would be out of the question. Olivier tried his hardest to make something work for me, but in the end, some things just don't turn out the way you thought they would. (Terimah kasih banyak Olivier!) When you pray for guidance you shouldn't be upset when doors begin to close in your face. Some are closed before you walk into the room, others are closed after you've been pushed out of them. But sometimes, the easiest way to make a decision is to decide what I don't want to do, or what I can't do. Then it's easier to focus on what is possible. Guidance.
In Singapore I remember writing in my journal that I was anxious to get to Latin America. I wasn't concerned with Europe and was in fact willing to bypass it altogether in order to be eating gallo pinto and listening to reggaeton all the sooner. However, I was still holding on to Europe. I was holding onto working, holding onto another ski season and holding onto another continent, another language and another year abroad. The longer I stayed in France, the further I'd have to wait to get to South America. Perhaps the doors have properly closed, perhaps it's time to move on, perhaps it's my time to let go of some of my small desires in order to fulfill my larger ones. So this is me, let go, and letting go.
Monday, January 12, 2009
C'est la belle vie
December 12, 2008
Paris, France
One must record their first impressions of France. You really shouldn't let the glasses of wine and the increasing exhaustion of travel and transit force you to sleep and blur the experience. And here I write:
My first thought-despite it feeling colder here than in London-was where are all the pretty people? I felt like they all stayed in London. Parisians are homely and fair-some are outright ugly to be honest. Hair is matted and disheveled, eyeliner is applied too thickly and most ensembles are seemingly, loosely and quickly thrown together.
The metro isn't as nice either. It stinks for one, and there is an absence of escalators and personnel around. The turn stalls are a pain and the trains are old. I would say of every city rail system I've been on this year-Paris comes up last in terms of cleanliness and modernity. That's saying something considering I've been to Manila.
Of course it's not all bad, I just needed to get the negative out so I could embellish the positive. I found the pretty people in shopping malls wearing designer clothes and smelling better than laundry fresh out of the drier. Then again when I met Olivier's friends and later in the week when we went out dancing.
Paris is quiet. It's surprising how quiet it is near a main street or just around the corner from a common landmark busy with visitors. Parisians have been quite friendly today as Olivier and I walked around lost most of the day stopping random people for directions. Perhaps because conversations were conducted by Olivier in French, but I'm not letting that arguably arbitrary fact sway my feelings that we were met with very friendly people today. Helpful people and some quite jovial.
The reputation for a love of food is duly deserved. Food literally lines the sides of some narrow, cobblestone streets we walked down today. Seafood, fruit and vegetables, even spices are prominently displayed enticing even the un-hungry to stop and browse a while.
I helped a Guatemalan girl carry her luggage to Gare du Nord this morning when I got of the bus. Then I met Olivier near Chatelet and we stashed our luggage at his old workplace and walked around the city past the Moulin Rouge, Notre Dame and a couple other cathedrals. I bought a phone and SIM straight away so that's out of the way.
I was exhausted by 7:00pm when we met Oliv's beautiful girlfriend Elod back where our bags were. I was staying (am staying) at Olivier's friend's house, Rafael. He cooked dinner for us tonight. Seared duck, with fried potatoes served with a blue cheese sauce and a fruity white wine for accompaniment. This will forever be my first dinner in Paris-and what a welcome it was!
It's gearing up to be a great weekend!
Paris, France
One must record their first impressions of France. You really shouldn't let the glasses of wine and the increasing exhaustion of travel and transit force you to sleep and blur the experience. And here I write:
My first thought-despite it feeling colder here than in London-was where are all the pretty people? I felt like they all stayed in London. Parisians are homely and fair-some are outright ugly to be honest. Hair is matted and disheveled, eyeliner is applied too thickly and most ensembles are seemingly, loosely and quickly thrown together.
The metro isn't as nice either. It stinks for one, and there is an absence of escalators and personnel around. The turn stalls are a pain and the trains are old. I would say of every city rail system I've been on this year-Paris comes up last in terms of cleanliness and modernity. That's saying something considering I've been to Manila.
Of course it's not all bad, I just needed to get the negative out so I could embellish the positive. I found the pretty people in shopping malls wearing designer clothes and smelling better than laundry fresh out of the drier. Then again when I met Olivier's friends and later in the week when we went out dancing.
Paris is quiet. It's surprising how quiet it is near a main street or just around the corner from a common landmark busy with visitors. Parisians have been quite friendly today as Olivier and I walked around lost most of the day stopping random people for directions. Perhaps because conversations were conducted by Olivier in French, but I'm not letting that arguably arbitrary fact sway my feelings that we were met with very friendly people today. Helpful people and some quite jovial.
The reputation for a love of food is duly deserved. Food literally lines the sides of some narrow, cobblestone streets we walked down today. Seafood, fruit and vegetables, even spices are prominently displayed enticing even the un-hungry to stop and browse a while.
I helped a Guatemalan girl carry her luggage to Gare du Nord this morning when I got of the bus. Then I met Olivier near Chatelet and we stashed our luggage at his old workplace and walked around the city past the Moulin Rouge, Notre Dame and a couple other cathedrals. I bought a phone and SIM straight away so that's out of the way.
I was exhausted by 7:00pm when we met Oliv's beautiful girlfriend Elod back where our bags were. I was staying (am staying) at Olivier's friend's house, Rafael. He cooked dinner for us tonight. Seared duck, with fried potatoes served with a blue cheese sauce and a fruity white wine for accompaniment. This will forever be my first dinner in Paris-and what a welcome it was!
It's gearing up to be a great weekend!
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