Friday, February 19, 2010

Domo Arigato, Mme. Margato

Well kids, I made it home a couple days ago and I think I just got over myself sometime this morning. I've come a long way these past two weeks, although I'm still awaking to the doorways and arches of Paris, until my vision tells me where I am now.

I'm working through the trip and the photos, both of which contain moments of wondrous beauty and godawful bullshit. Sadly, my computer doesn't have the necessary resources to deal with my images (it has trouble even typing) so it may be a while before anything comes to light.

I came home with a few things: One earring lost. My favorite sweater shrunk to an impossible size. A hat intended for someone half my age. Part of a bag of coffee. A phone number I sort of wish I didn't have. Renewed confidence. Shattered self-esteem. A void where my heart used to rest. Love of blood sausage. Faith in possibility. A new song. Absence of overpowering regret. The texture of pastels, of the filthy & turgid Seine, of rooftops from the terrace, of soft cheeses, of bodies carved from stone and wine on my tongue. The smell of the street in the morning. A pair of tubas playing "It's Now or Never".

Wow, that makes it sound almost romantic. How cute.

Favorite things about Paris include how much it didn't stink, how walkable it is, how rideable, tiny cars, not understanding the language, a young boy trying the back door at just the wrong moment and yelling MaaammaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaan! one afternoon when I passed from scowl to smile, an apartment most comfortable, that fleeting sense of freedom, flying there and back, sleeping for twelve hours straight, getting my suitcase back after three days of calls and waiting and finally with the assistance of Mme. Margato who phoned to explain in zero Anglais to my unspeakable French,
bottomless bowls of chocolate mousse, all those amazing things in the science museum, superhuman detail of Tibetan paintings, that little girl with the two baby doll strollers and knockout sunglasses, the lady and the unicorn, windows and doors, the revelation of Degas pastels and Van Goghs and others, pairs of bodies shaped from a single stone, wrinkled skin in marble, mossy graves and real live gravediggers, rehearsal at the opera, Orion from the balcony, thinking of nothing.

That's all I have for tonight. More another day.

1 comment:

Sandy said...

Can't wait to hear more of your trip and see pictures! Trip of a lifetime!