My time in Paris has been an interesting one so far. Just before Alex left i got a case of anxiety and sort of felt a bit angry and not good about life in general. After he left it sort of got worse. I think it was largely to do with me feeling a bit scared and isolated in a place where i can't speak the language and i am on my own most of the time and i can't afford to do much to change the situation as it presents itself. And so i had a momentary Tokyo flashback. Tokyo was a very lonely time for me.
I was finding it very difficult to leave Mo's flat. And it is a lovely flat in the Beaubourg district, right in the guts of Paris. But i don't like feeling like i can't do things so i had to suck it all up and put on my sexy pants (and if i was gay i'd have a riot in this part of town) and go out and buy some groceries and a phone card. And you know what? I did it and i didn't die and no body laughed at me at... and i didn' die mum. But it was bloody hard getting up and out of that appartment. And so i made contact with a few of my other friends here and then went out for dinner on Friday night with Fred (who i met in Dharamsala and is a joy to be around) and i felt better for a while but the next day it was like starting all over again and i got angsty because i didn' know what to do with myself and it is a bit difficult to go for walks because my new shoes have given me some very big and painful blisters that keep bleeding when i walk on them. But i was going crazy and i was gonna start eating cleaning products so i went to the first bar that looked like it was full of locals and i sat at the counter and before long i was having a chat in english with a very friendly guy called Larry and he introduced me to the staff and then they gave me some drinks for free which is apparently out of character in Paris. And then i felt fine and went off to a party at my friend Didi's place. There were some people who were happy to speak English there and so that was very good for me. We drank a lot of rum and vodka. The next day i went out with confidence and felt pretty good about being in this heady, romantic city where everytime i look up i get a rush of endorphins. So i cooked for my beautiful, stressed out and very busy host last night and it was a grand meal and we listened to records and laughed about things we have done and people we met.
Today i don't know what i'm gonna do, but i have a recommendation for a good lunch and coffee so i will go there and just enjoy walking around in Paris... which is my new favourite city in the whole world except maybe Melbourne but i can go there anytime. It is so beautiful here, and the croissants and baguette make bakers in Melbourne look silly. I havent found good coffee here yet... Mo says i wont. That is a shame. Good coffee would taste very good here.
I could spell out some more falmboyance about my decadence in the magnificent city of Barcelona: where i got lost in tiny lanes like spilt bowls of spaghetti and saw more Picasso and then Gaudi stole my breath and made still my pounding heart in the rib cage of his La Sagrada Familia. We stayed in a youth hostel and i will never ever do that ever again not in a million and one years if you paid me lots of money and got some tea from china no way. There are some distrssingly ugly people in this human race of ours... and they all have money and travel with Dad's credit card. Perhaps it is the Dad... yes... lets be angry with the Dad. Bad Dad.
Before that we had some intense and border line distrssing moments while trekking in the Spanish Pÿrenees where it is not the walking season yet and if anything had gone wrong on those mountain passes, waist depth in snow and crossing unseen rivers, we would have been in serious trouble. We slept in an abandoned refugio one night which was home to rodents who like the smell of our rubbish bag. But we woke in the most beautiful valley i have ever seen, surrounded by mountains and ten waterfalls sparkling in the sunlight. It was ecstasy to know that it was only the two of us and our four eyes that beheld that wonder at that time. Sorry everyone... it was not as awe inspiring as the incredible size of the Himayala... but it was prettier.
And so i am in Paris for another two weeks and then something dramatic will happen: I have a return flight booked to bring me back to India where i will hopefully have no trouble with immigration as i will only be in the country for a few hours before i get on my flight back to Melbourne on the 30th of June. It is all booked and it is ready and waiting and i oscillate between terror and exhilaration at the thought of returning to Melbourne town and seeing all you beautiful people (if you are there) again. But when someone suggests work at an English pub (as horrible as they are) i can't help but to feel tempted... just a whole heap. Either way, i think i would like to go to Iran in February. It didn't happen this time... but February is a good month. Maybe i'll stop over in India for a bit... why not?
So maybe i will write another blog before i get home and maybe i will not. I would like to transcribe a few more stories onto screens before i stop sending you all emails. I know some pretty good ones.
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