Birthday Week

As we all know it, time travels on. And before you know it, you're 21 and jumping across 5 timezones in one week. My "birthday week" started in Lyon and ended in Santa Cruz, CA.
To be honest, I did not get totally drunk and crazy like most people do when they turn 21, (I can do that any day) but I think this short resume will prove that it was a birthday to be remembered for sure!

It all began in France last Saturday with coffee, fruit tartlettes and good company. It then graduated to a sushi dinner, Hagen Dazs icecream in the main square of Lyon, cocktails and champagne. A definite amazing start to birthday celebrations and a fantastic 'aurevoir' to France.

The next morning, I said a tearful goodbye at the Lyon Part Dieu station but was soon welcomed into the arms of the British Airways Paris business lounge. And, well, travelling has never been so luxurious. I must admit, I over-did it on the free food and free alcohol on the way, in both Paris and London, repeating my 'birthday flight' mantra of: "They will have to roll me off this plane!!"

Not to mention the fact that I got to see the Eiffel Tower, London Eye AND fly into New York at night in the one day! Oh, I must not forget the complimentary massage and facial in London!

Then, I had 2 days in New York, and, really, you can't go wrong there. On my first day, I took Manhattan for all it's worth, hiking from Riverside to the Upper East Side, from 96th to 40th. There was 5th Ave, there was St Patricks, there was window shopping and amazing food at the Barking Dog Cafe (as seen on Sex and the City... I read that on the menu... I've never seen a single episode of Sex and the City. I have to recommend the Blue Ribbon Museli.)

After this epic day of Manhattan by Foot... it was my actual birthday. Which started off at the Barking Dog (again - this time for blueberry buttermilk pancakes) and ended up sitting on a curb in New Jersey... go figure. So, after breakfast at the barking dog, I spent the late morning and early afternoon laying on the lawns at Central Park, and then browsing through the bookstore at the Metropolitain Museum of Art - because books and art AND New York - well, if you know me, you'd know I'd be on cloud nine.

After that I took a stressful (to say the least) cab ride to the station through Manhattan traffic. And then some metro, because I went to the wrong station. But, before you know it, I was in Seacaucus, New Jersey, having chatted with a lovely Dominican man on the train, waiting for the next train to Clifton. I met up with one of my oldest friends (oldest meaning - who I have known the longest), in Clifton and we stuffed ourselves rotten on Sushi and drank a bottle of wine each. And the waiters sang happy birthday to me... no waiter has ever sung happy birthday to me, especially while carrying a sundae with candles! After dinner, we dragged ourselves home for more wine, and some gin too. We sat on the porch talking until another friend drove past and took me to the Shannon Rose, an Irish pub in New Jersey. Before we even walked in, my heel got tangled in the seatbelt and I was hurled to the ground. Attacked by a Saab! A massive bruise still lingers on my left leg.

After I picked myself up (with a little help), there was, of course, more wine, some sangria and we finished it off with a round of vodka shots (because it was, in fact, a Polish birthday)... and we headed back. (In all fairness, it was 3am at this point). But, somewhere close to Garfield, NJ, the car broke down and we were stuck waiting for a cab for close to an hour, and that is how I ended my actual birthday sitting on a curb somewhere in New Jersey.

The next day started early, at 6:30 or 7, I think. All I know is that I didn't sleep at all, or if I did, it was for less than half an hour. We went back to pick up the car, which still wasnt starting, hiked to the closest mechanics (me in heels, of course!) to get a thingy (my car-parts knowledge is astounding) to re-start the battery to drive the car over and get it fixed properly. All I noticed is that heels and white cocktail dresses are not the most appropriate when trying to find a small-town mechanic somewhere in New Jersey. We were stuck in 'little Poland' for a few hours, so we aimlessly tried to find a Polish restaurant open for breakfast. There were none (apparently my people don't eat breakfast). So, instead, we got some Polish groceries and ate a pseudo-picnic on the side of the road. There is nothing better when you are stranded, exhausted with aching feet in the heat of summer than mint-apple juice. Nothing. Period.

When the car was ready, we headed to get Peruvian food for lunch. I have to admit, I've missed Ceviche while in Europe... missed it terribly.

The next few days flew by quickly in New Jersey. Those days involved some stresses, but most importantly, good food and good company, and before I knew it, I was running around Seacaucus station trying to find which track I needed to get to New York Pennsylvania Station. It was not easy, but I managed. I also managed to find the Shuttle Bus on 7th Ave/33rd St which got me to La Guardia. I checked in, I paid American Airlines' extortionate fee to check in luggage, and I settled down for the few hours that I needed to wait until I could board my flight to Chicago. Now, I dont know if it is common knowledge, but perhaps it should be; Airlines HATE me. There is not one flight with a major airline that I have been on in the last 3 years that was not delayed or cancelled or something. And well, we were stuck sitting on the tarmack in La Guardia for 40 minutes.

Now, 40 minutes is not that long, I understand. But when one only has 40 minutes to connect to one's San Francisco flight in Chicago; 40 minutes is vital. So, we landed at 7:53pm local time at the Chicago O'Hare airport and my plane was boarding at 7:55pm. By the time everyone got off the plane, it was 8:10pm and all I could do was sprint across the airport to my gate. I made it. But only just. All in all, I spent 32 minutes in Chicago. I landed in San Francisco, found Amy and Yusef (my wonderful hosts in California) and we drove back to Santa Cruz.

Today was the last day of a pleasant stretch of time I have refered to as my 'birthday week'. I lounged around a bit and spent hours getting grilled, toasted, baked and all round reddened by the sun on the beach. Then we went out for Sushi. And it was wonderful.

So I didn't get drunk and wake up in a strange parking lot wearing only half my clothes and one shoe. I didn't play 'kings' in a VIP vodka bar. I didn't organise a lavish party for my friends and spend hunderds on a dress. I spent 17 Euros on a dress and traversed through 3 countries, 5 timezones, 10 cities. I experienced the full range of sensations, from free massages to waiting for a cab on the side of the road. Looking back on it, I loved it, and I definately wish all my birthdays involved a crazy week during which, on many occasions, I laughed to myself and thought 'how did I get here' - but in a good way.

Sunshine, books and pretty scarves.

I've been having a pretty wonderful week. I've been taking full advantage of my last week of enforced holidays. Next week it's back to work, back to being able to pay rent, back to 5 days on/2 days off (but not in that order).

On tuesday, I ate an entire baguette because I was finally working a bit again, and had euros in my pocket and decided to celebrate by eating, even though I wasn't hungry. This baguette included tomatos, goats cheese, eggs and jam, but not all together. I was still full this morning. Before work, I sat by the river in the sun, reading, trying to get some colour into these pasty legs of mine. After work, I made sugar cookies and watched Bridget Jones 2: The Edge of Reason in Polish and remembered how much I dont like watching movies dubbed in Polish - the same guy does all the voices, quite monotonously, but it gave a new twist to an old favourite. And, the sugar cookies are quite amazing. Might snack a couple now...

Today, I shopped, having recently found that I have no white bra nor tshirts that I don't swim in (problem with weightloss - now a size S in bottoms and M in tops!). So, I took advantage of H and M's massive lingerie selection. I was tempted by many a cute lacy pink bra, or sexy blue panties, but I stuck to my guns and went for the plain white t-shirt bra. I also discovered some cute basic tops for 7 Euros... done! I splurged on a scarfe though. It was so perfect because I had chosen a peachy-pink top and a turquoise blue top, and the scarfe is beige with peachy-pink and turquoise blue flowers. I opted against this gorgeous denim skirt I saw, because once I tried it on, it made me look pregnant. No, not fat. Pregnant. The fit was perfect except for the little bit that the front which bulged out like a baby bump. I have as much desire to look pregnant as I have to be pregnant, so I had to leave the cute denim skirt with the bows on the pockets...

I indulged again in a 'Chelsea' grilled panini, with an Iced Tea at a little place called something like Bagel Sandwitch Bar, or New York Bagel Bar or whatever. All I know is there was a photo of NYC's Hard Rock Cafe and the Naked Cowboy on my table and a huge New York State license plate print on the wall. I finished up at 5:30pm, with no desire to go home, so I spent 2 and a half hours reading in the sun by the cathedral. It's sunny so long now, it's past 9pm and it's not even fully dark yet.

For tomorrow I envision more sunshine, reading, possibly at the Parc Tete d'Or or at Croix Rousse... and possibly a lesson... still waiting for the confirmation from my student....

Shoe Obituary

I've been desperately needing new shoes, but I've been trying to put it off till I go to the U.S. because shoes are cheaper there. However, I can go on no longer.

I love my old shoes... here they are... a bit worn and torn...


... but they have served me well, nonetheless. In Washington last August, I managed to wear out 2 pairs of flats which I bought in Perth. These shoes saved me; US$11.50 on 5th Avenue in New York City. I wore them all over North America, they were my only shoes until the snow came in Montreal. They travelled and have seen Europe with me. Well, it shows:

they have also been stretched beyond belief and constantly fall off my feet. Stairs are a struggle in them. I guess it's time they go.

But I'm very picky with shoes. I'm travelling. They can't be super heavy, they need to suit everything in my suitcase and they can't cost more that 20Euro. But I don't want black shoes.

After over 2 hours of fruitless traversing in what feels like a million stores where the shoes were either ugly, or too expensive, or too colourful, or not colourful enough, or too plain, or too 'out there', I found these wonderful cotton flats for less that 15Euro;

They have no holes, they fit and they don't fall off my feet. They are pretty, they match everything. I really do thing I have a bit of a crush on these shoes. Even so, I have become attached to my purple shoes. I have some good memories of those shoes. It's sad to let them go...

R.I.P dear purple shoes. I will remember you fondly.

And sometimes things just go right...

I woke up this morning feeling pretty average. Rent is due and I had to get my metro pass done. I found out my rent had not gone down since we won't have a new roommate. (insert profanity here).
I barely scraped up enough to pay the cheaper rent. (insert other, stronger profanity here)
I also will not be earning more euros until tuesday (double profanity).
So, I label myself as 'in the financial pits'. I was hoping not to touch my savings anymore until I left for the US.
I put off getting my papers sorted to get my metro pass done by chatting on facebook, reading blogs, muttering to myself and making yet another cup of tea. Finally, I got off my ass, got my passport, my proof of address and my 5 euros for the photomachine (Le Photomaton, just like those in Amelie *sigh*) and headed to Perrache.
Not in a good mood as it was, I grumbled my way through the station to the first Photomaton which was out of order, passing by the insanely full TCL (Lyon Public Transport Co.) office thinking I was going to waste a few hours of my life just waiting in line.
Finally, I got to a working Photomaton and took the photo thinking "I just don't care." However, I was pleasantly surprised. My photo came out looking a lot more glamorous that I had expected. What an ego boost! (that oversized flower I bought at H&M was definately worth the 4 Euro) I quite like it and am considering taping it into both my passports and over my student ID to cover up past photos where I look ridiculous, or very, very stoned.
When the photos came out, and I braced myself for what I learned from past metro-card-acquisition experiences (like those in Montreal), I was set for more questions than I had been asked at Canadian customs (i.e. a lot.)
In Montreal, it took me 6 hours to get my metro pass. In Lyon, it took me 6 minutes. The crowd at the TCL office had disappeard into thin air thanks to the help of a magician named 'Luigi' (it's the only explination as all public service institutions are set up to make life miserable), there were 3 free service people, each smiling as I walked up and gave one of them my documents. She typed things in to the computer, clicked the mouse a few times and gave me my metro pass, valid untill 2015! I asked if I can pay by Visa. She said 'bien sur', smiled, processed the payment and wished me a 'bon journee'.
I thought this is all too good to be true, and perhaps the card only starts working in 24 hours or something. But no, it's true! The card works!!
To celebrate, I bought a baguette and debated which avocado was best (the hard one or the squishy one - I opted for squishy, even though it was more expensive. Also, did you know that 'avocado' comes from a native South American word meaning 'testicle'? The Spanish adopted it to describe the fruit, not knowing the genital reference. Anyway, I digress.), and walked home in the gorgeous sunlight with the breeze that was just enough to make me feel pretty, but not enough to get my hair stuck in my sunglasses and lipstick.
So, despite being in the financial pits, there are some moments in the day where I feel my life has almost reached perfection.

Arriving in Lyon

So I'm 'home' and learning again how to write on an anglophone keyboard. I say 'home', because, although I plan to stay in Lyon untill May 28, I'm not yet 'home', ie I dont have my own apartment.

However, in my preliminary apartment searches, I came across an old posting where the room for rent had already been rented (this I only found out later). HOWEVER, there was one room available for sublet, while the occupant (a comedian), is doing a tour of Africa. The room I'm subletting for a week only sets me back 80Euro and I have my own room and a bunch of cool (although temporary) roommates. They comprise of 3 musicians, a student and a comedian (the one whose room I'm in). And, a stable place in Lyon suburbs to do some field research about getting my own place for the next 3 months.

Arriving in Lyon seemed to be the biggest struggle so far. Before getting off the train I (as politely as possible), woke the lady in the aisle seat to go to the bathroom, having just guzzled half a litre of water. I calculated that I'd still have time to get my bags and calmly wait at the doors of the train. Little did I know that in the time of my absense, a traffic jam had formed between the door of the bathroom and my insanely heavy and bulky luggage. Everyone was ready to get off the train when it pulled in to Lyon Part Dieu, and by the time they did, and I ran to get my big, bulky bag (which didnt even fit in the train passage way, but had to be dragged on its side), people started to get on the train, creating a bigger traffic jam and making it more impossible for me to get off the train. Stressed and almost in tears (the train was about to leave), I babbled non-sensical french to lovely french gentlemen who grabbed my suitcase and my backpack for me and got them off the train. If it wasn't for chivalry, I would have ended up in Nimes, Montpellier or on the Cote d'Azur, wherever that train was heading late at night.

The rest went smoothly. I followed Mathieu's instructions (one of my temporary roommates), caught the tram and found him immediately at the station. He then (like a real frenchman), took my suitcase and walked me to the house. We had a cup of tea, chatted, and he went back to the recording studio downstairs, while I checked emails, explored the rather huge house and just went about making myself at home in a strange new place (something I've come accustomed to in the last 7 months).

So, thats it for now.

More Lyonnaise adventures to come!

Gros Bisous,

a