Here's My Thing...

I know I have issues with faith -- hyper-critical, infinitely flawed, self-centered jerk that I am.

Every single day is a bit of a cycle of disappointment with myself. I am so introverted. So worried and anxious all the while telling myself on the surface level that it is in His hands while wringing my own over the most trivial things. Trivial things like: money, time, grades, friends, family, life, death, love, war, faminine.

Now don't get me wrong.

I am not saying that these things don't matter. But worry, to me, the anxiety-proned mess, is a constant reminder of my flawed faith. Of the fact that I think that somehow turning my stomach and rushing about will do more and be worth more than knowing that everything (absolutely and entirely) will be made right by Him if I base my life there. If I go first to Him and second to my thoughts and actions. That there is nothing that I can do even resembling good without it being through Him.

If every single step is based in the Lord, if every direction, every up and down and inbetween is nothing. That I only have to exists is God (I mean I have a holy spirit bird on my foot for this very purpose and I often find myself admiring it for all of the wrong reasons...)

I just need to remind myself of this.
To internalize it.
To try to make it real and tangible.

To believe it.

To not forget.

Pray for me?

Relatively Relaxed in Madrid and Lisbon

After the insanity of running around pscyho-loca in Paris, this weekend was a pleasant surprise.

We moseyed over to Madrid, Wednesday, met up with Adorably Awesome Ana (our couch surfer for the night) and museumed, ate and sat in parks. Which was fantastic.

Once again, the contemporary art museum took the cake for me, leading me to believe that I may, very well, be into contemporary art! Whoddaknewit?

But mostly I loved not having to rush around, being around amazingly loving people and relaxing in lovely parks. The leaves turning were no Appalachian Autumn, but they were falling and bright yellows and oranges...

Now I am in Lisbon, which has awesome things to offer, but I'm waiting in my absolutely sick hostel (Living Lounge -- very artsy, clean and modern and cheap if you visit here -- my first hosteling experience!) for my travel buddies to wake up.

I have a ton of work to do before Greece and such but right now I am just trying to enjoy the fact that in 3 weeks I'm hitting:

Marseille, Montpellier, Paris, Madrid, Lisbon, Nice, Geneva, Milan, Venice, Patra, Athens.

Fan-friggin-tasty.

Too bad I'm missing Ani though in Barca. Not like I had the bank to throw down for her lovely self.

I hope you are well!

Janelle

Death.

I just realised (like in Dandelion Wine) that I am suffering from, and will die from an utterly incurable terminal illness called Living.

I will be taken unexpectedly. I do not know if it will be painful or peaceful. I have no time line to arrange my will or to prepare myself. I can't plan when to fulfill all my dreams and desires.

Today's the day.

The only thing left to do (since I have progressed from my outrage and disbelief stages) is to accept that I can make my uncertain number of days, weeks, years, seconds here aware and bright.

Friend, in illness, friend's in life. I'm not afraid to die but I would very much so like to live. Even if it will kill me.

3 Girls, 3 Couches, 3 Frites and 3 Strip Clubs: The City of Lights

So Paris is amazing. I mean I wish there was a word for how amazing and wonderful it is...but frankly there just isn't. I don't think I have ever been as pleased for life through travel before. Breathtaking.

The bike tour was a lovely adventure and our wonderfully adorably small group (6) was able to get acquainted with the city over 4 hours and to chat up the pretty cute guy who started the company with his best friend after quitting a marketing job. Sweet.

The train (by the way) was a fantastic mode of transportation -- lovely views, bags of food, good conversations and sun rises.



But back on point, after the tour we went to D'Orsay (so paletable, especially compared to the Louvre...) and had all that impressionistically wonderful art that makes me think of my mother and grandmother.

We had delicious (cheap! -- compared to Barca!) food. And I felt full and satisified and ahhhh! The food! The bread... Wandering around was so amazing. I feel like I have an entirely new concept of beauty now...



Also, the entire trip we couch-surfed.

The first night, we met up with Florie and she was a DOLL. I mean, a doll...she had to run to Tai Chi and we wandered, got some frites, and a bottle of wine (and finally an opener! the wonderful French man in the store helped us translate ourselves with sound effects and hand motions :) And then we sat down and out of no where I had my first view of that little ol' famous landmark they were planning to tear down right after the World Fair... and it was twinkling. I literally gasped.

The fun thing is, that couch surfing took us away from central Paris. We were able to wander and listen to french and even try our hand at a bit ourselves.



I was amazed at how wonderfully patient and helpful and kind people were after prepping myself for the infamous Parisian cruelty. Honestly: we just didn't see it. People were nicer there to us than anywhere I've ever been. At one point, a woman came over without any prompting from us (we're convinced she was an angel) came over and navigated us through a complex exchange we had to do (2 trains, a bus, a metro...all outside of the city to get to Clarisse -- our next couch) and goodness....when I mean navigate she basically held our hand. Walked us to the station we'd never have found...took us to the machine, pushed the buttons took us to the platforms and waited for us to get on. All without a word comphrensibly passed between the two of us...

When we got to the station, there was a mini-panic because Clarisse was stuck in traffic and we were outside of the city, at night, with all our valuables in a strange place. But as the theme of the trip: God provided and kept us safe and got us to Clarisse's. We stayed in with her (she is a gorgeous, kind, infinitely chill woman) and she not only picked us up, made us a bed, offered us her computer, highlighted our maps, cooked us dinner (fries and chicken with delicious juice) but she let us call our mommies, daddies and JT as well. It was heaven.

We got up bright and early the next day and went on the whirlwind tour of France. We headed over to Lillie's place around 5.30 which is good because we got so lost and wandered about on beautiful foggie Parisian streets for a good hour until we took a taxi to the street where the sign had fallen off. Lillie was a precious creature with a delicate accent and huge eyes and a smile that made you. We gave her kisses, dropped our bags and ran out to catch up with Maggie for our pre-arranged 9am meeting that we were now desperately late to.



When we got there 30 minutes late, we were distraught to see no Maggie...so we wandered around, went in the Louvre and after a lot of effort decided to art-it a bit. I saw all that stuff I'm supposed to, got the feeling of how the Louvre can make you feel sick unless you have the time to savour it (like a very rich dessert?) and we got lost.

Frustrated with our terrible sense of direction, we wandered outside and got in line again, sweeping for Maggie one more time...and we're in line, a bit frazzled and sad when we hear her voice. Out of all million people in line for the Louvre -- she is right behind us. I get chills. Thank Yeshua for hearing my prayers for her...(she had NO phone and if we didn't meet we had no backup plan)...and she runs over and sobs and tells us her amazing story of frazzledness and Parisian kindness.

Just a touch about her story, a flamboyantly wonderful man saw her start sobbing in the street, swept her away with a "Love Love don't cry" and a few hugs and comfort and walked her to the station, gave her tickets because she was out of money and even money to call us from a payphone. God at work in mysterious, and wonderful ways no?

So we are overjoyed, wander the Louvre, peace out after a bit and go to the Petit Palais. And the exhibit is stunning. After Champs Elysee. Share crepes. Peer around and go to the Rodin musee which is -- boo -- closed. But the garden isn't. And lovely human beings are kissing and running their children around and I fall in love and miss JT like my heart is breaking. And then it's off to Napoleon's HUGE tomb. To the (closed) Picasso and then in another stroke of wonderous fate decide as a ditch to go to the Modern Art Museum -- my favourite.

The Modern Art Museum is so open -- so different -- so practical. It is paletable and spacious and un-crowded. The views are fabulous. Parisians chill outside with wine and be awesome. The museum is interactive and huge and wonderful and playful and thought-provoking. The works are explained in english and I really came out delighted.

After -- as the sun is setting we head to Montmarte. WOW! Is all I can say. It was a fabulous choice...with the rows and rows of wine and cheese being sold we grabbed a cheap bottle (our second cheap bottle -- did I mention we got one earlier?) and sat down with a pipe and music and lights and view that rocks socks and the church behind us and people chattering and loving eachother in all sorts of languages. And we just talk and smoke and breathe.

After we head to the Moulin Rouge -- overpriced -- so we go to three strip clubs for free as the only girls. Have a hilarously wonderful time and I'd be lying to say that I didn't do a little something on an empty pole.

Then to the Eiffey Tower. Some food split on the way (more yummy and we're dying of joy) and then we see it. All lit and blue. And just wander. Oh my!



Yes it is large. And by the way. The Mona Lisa isn't that small it's just not gargantum...or large even. And cool story: did you know that Paris was supposed to be leveled because before retreating Hitler placed dynamite under the city and ordered his general to destroy the city because "If I can't have it no one can have Paris" and a wonderful man convinced the general not to do it!

Cool, eh?

Now. Notre Dame was a let down for me. I can see why the revolutionaries wanted to tear it down brick by brick. It's hard for me to feel God in a place that feels so contradictory. It is what worries me about the chruch in every way. What I pray to understand.

But everyone was just so kind. So heartfelt and helpful. Everyone we asked for directions gave them with a smile and indulged our pathetic attempts at French. It was lovely in a way...a way that ... oh goodness.

But it was whaat I needed.

So much so. And I thank God for holding it all together so carefully and gently where so much could've gone wrong. He was there. All the time. I'm overjoyed. And on the train to Marseille I cried and read and listened to music and watched the sun rise and felt whole and at peace.

And all is well in my world.

Let Me Let You In On A Secret...

... studying abroad is great. I´m sure of it. Even though right now I just am NOT feeling it. There´s something that feels strangely similar to drownding here, occasionally (or sometimes more often than occasionally).

It´s this desperate, choking need to get your point across. To understand. To be understood and properly represented in pathetic, second-grade level Castalleno. It´s getting frustrated with yourself and the environment for being so foreign. For your inadequacies. For wanting a stupid cold glass of milk so bad. For wanting to kiss the man you love on the forehead and to be able to call and tell your mom you´re overwhelmed. I mean it isn´t always choking, but I´d feel like a terrible liar to tell you that sometimes it isn´t.

For instance, this last week has been strangely akin to emotional hell. And here´s the worst part -- I´m not sure why. Now. I am feeling distinctly better (which gives me the energy to write) but I´m still off...so bear with me without judging, hm?

So. There´s the cycle of adjustment -- some people are better at it than others, si? And anyone who knows me, knows which group of humans I fit into. But I don´t feel that I was prepared for how truly shocking culture shock can be, especially in a culture that pretty much has all of the comforts and advantages of home, not to mention more than enough of its own comforts that home lacks.

But it´s wrapped up in little things. Being torn in the oddest ways: I want to meet Spanish kids. I want to make Spanish friends. I want to speak Castalleno. I want to learn about Spain. But goddamn, it´s so much harder than you would imagine. When I try to explain the details of the day, it´s an exhausting and frustrating task. I NEVER have the words I want to use, so I have to resort to infuriatingly inappropriate ones...and vice versa. We speak eachother´s language but only to a point. It´s a surface knowledge...the intricacies are hard to get across. So so very hard.

And then there´s the fact that we live two separate lives. Everytime I go to the cafeteria I´m filled with the elementary-school dread of finding a place to sit. Past the introductory ¨hola¨ I do my best to scarf my food and try to understand the rapid-fire exchanges that are taking place on all sides. My head hurts by the end of the day. I want to cry from feeling so inadequate and ignorant.

And then there are the moments where the effort is just too much on one or both sides. Where people will just pretend I´m invisible altogether, avoid eye contact and not even bother to try to acknowledge my existence. Not that I blame them...I mean after a long day the last thing you want to do is to speak like an idiot to someone who just wants to feel included or wanted.

And don´t get me wrong, I have had great interactions with people. I´ve gone out and had wonderful times...but it´s fewer and further between than I expected. I just was not ready for it.

Tomorrow I go to Paris. Hopefully not speaking any French will give me an appreciation for the little bit of Spanish I speak and understand. I don´t know. I´m just trying to stay positive...but sometimes, when you´re gasping for air, keeping a bright outlook is the furthest thing from your mind.

Current State: I just want to go home.

(this too shall pass)

-Janelle