Vacation

Having a friend come and stay is a bit like going on vacation. I take the train out to the airport. I check the screens for the arrival time, mostly just to make sure I am not too late and he is running around in one of the largest airports in the world frantically trying to find his friend who isn't there. I find my way to the baggage claim and wait just beyond the doors for him to come. Unlike real vacations, this one begins with a hug that encompasses more than just a welcome, more than just time apart, more than just oceans apart, it brings you back from where you came and calls you forth into the time that is too come. And, then we get on the train and the vacation begins.
I am pretty sure I didn't stop talking for the first hour JD was here. It had been almost two months since my family had left. I had been through some of my most homesick times, but was beginning to make more friends and find something of a home at the church.
JD was leaving his fair share of hard times and we were just glad to be together. I realized Sunday, the day after he arrived, I hadn't laughed as much as I did with him in those first 12 hours then I did in the last 5 months here in France.
Saturday night we met some friends of mine from St. Louis for a coffee and dinner. Then, we went to a pub and had a beer. Wanting to preserve money on the first day of the trip, we decided against drinking any longer and headed down to the center of Paris to walk along the Seine. It was perfect for me, I had one of my best friends, and two pretty girls on either side. It was the first time that I had walked the Seine and I wasn't alone or with another guy. It was all the sentimental and romantic things you would expect walking along the River Seine with Eiffel Tower sparkling off in the distance. As we were walking down to the tip of the Ile de la Cite discussing the literature of Victor Hugo with Notre Dame at our backs, several boats started to pass us on either side. They were the really posh dinner boats that float the Seine at night, resplendent in the all the French romanticism that the people of the West have grown up believing in. Yet, as our eyes followed to the end of island, I saw my first bare French ass. It was being slapped on either side by two other young drunk French guys. They were laughing hysterically as they displayed their asses for everybody on the dinner cruises to see. Totally distracted by this rare sight, approaching us without our notice was another young drunk French person, but a girl this time. She stumbled towards and held our camera for us to take a picture of her and all her friends. I was happy to oblige. Afterwards, she danced and stumbled around us holding the beer in high in the air toasting the moon and a good night in Paris, all without spilling a drop. I would say that this totally ruined the moment, but for us it didn't. It absolutely made the moment. The night had its sentimental qualities but none of the four of us were interested in each other romantically. We were just four young Americans looking to have some fun in Paris. We had just encountered our young French counterparts. Ours was not going to be the same drunken fun, but it made the moment for all of us to be there in one of the most romantic spots in all the world laughing and having a good time, not worrying about anything.
This was the first night of a good week. Mostly, we visited all the tourist sites. He stayed in Massy the days that I worked and did work that he had to do. It is quite a different experience to share all of my daily moments with a friend. It was the same when my family was here, but it had been months since I had been able to share my thoughts and jokes that with someone. I usually just internalize all that and leave a few up on this blog. That is also why I haven't written in a while, because JD has been here. Also, sometimes I am kind of lazy. The hardest part of his visit was the train ride back to the airport. He was talking about his brother waiting for him at the airport when he returned. I was taking the train back to a McDonald's looking forward to the open arms of the girl behind the counter as I order my crap coffee so I could use the free WiFi. My dad and brother should becoming at the end of the month. I am really just short of two months until I too will be returning to the open arms of my home.

It all ends up on the internet

More people then I ever thought are reading this blog. When I first started writing this blog, my dad suggested that I do it in order to remember the stories and memories I had as I lived in France. I looked at it as my internet memory. So, for a while, I was just posting assuming maybe a few friends and my parents would be reading. But, more than anything, it would be something that I would be able to refer back to in 10 or 20 years and say, "oh yeah I forgot I did that." Over time, as my became more familiar with life here and wasn't traveling very much, I started to write about feelings, emotions and thoughts I was having at the time. I do tend to spend a good deal of time in my head, so I guess it was a natural progression to go from stories of events to fleshing out of thoughts in words. In so doing, my blog became more personal. I began to reveal more personal things, my thoughts and emotions. Almost simultaneously, I started getting more readers. My dad said he had been sharing the link with some of his friends, a few of my high school teachers got the address, and then I made the big move of putting my posts up on Facebook. I didn't realize the magnitude of the effect of Facebook, but suddenly I started having a lot more readers and from different sources then before. Of course, I am sure that the readers from this new source, if they are reading it, know what I am talking about. For those of you who are reading this and don't know, other teachers at my lycee started to read the blog as well. Suddenly, I was almost frightened by the personal nature of what I had begun to reveal in my blog and how many people had access to it, and when I had originally written those blogs, I didn't think certain people would ever find it. I didn't write anything to incriminating, but Alixe and I did have a good laugh because I referred to Myriam as "attractive and maybe 24 or 25." (Alixe and Myriam are two teachers I work with).
I was just reflecting though on how strange it is to have people reading things that you have written and then discussing it with him. On a superficial level, it is quite flattering. And, to continue revealing more personal emotions, it also makes me a bit insecure. I tend to be a fairly critical person, and most often, I am critical of myself. As soon as I realized how many people had access to my writing and my thoughts, all I could think of was how well I had written the story, or did I communicate my point effectively, how bad was my French grammar on the few occasions I used, etc. I am most certainly to blame for people reading it because I did post it on Facebook and the internet, but the insecure side of me always thought, "well sure, you could put it on Facebook, you could put it on the front page of the New York Times, but people still won't really read it."
In the end though, I am quite proud that my blog is gaining a wider audience. Not because I feel I have anything particularly brilliant or insightful to relate, but it does give me a different medium for communication and one that I can reflect on longer before I put it out into the world. I am also thankful that it only picked up a wider audience much further down the road. I had time to work on my writing some, get used to the format and regularity of writing before a broader audience could read it. Those who started reading later could see a progression (hopefully, if nothing else just by pure practice) of my writing and ability to express myself. And, I always appreciate the comments because I do like to know who is reading this and I don't care if you feel like a stalker because I didn't personally tell you about the blog, I wouldn't have put it on my facebook if I didn't want people to read it and respond to it!