To be a part of something

My time in Lourdes was very spiritual, refreshing, and humbling. It opened my heart, mind, and soul to hope and inspiration. I have never seen so many sick and ailing people in one location all holding on to the belief that they may get well. Instead of looking at it negatively and with pity for these people, I now respect them and cherish them for their relentlessness and their calm. God is very much here in this little town of Lourdes. What a great way to start my adventure. I am cleansed of my burdens, worries, and sins. I feel ready to tackle this new adventure with bright eyes, an open heart and a focused mind.

What about our second day has me so calm, focused and at ease? Well, let me tell you all about it. We started with mass at nine...although we got lost because there are so many masses going on in so many different languages and in so many different chapels that we made it half way through, but enjoyed it all the same. It was only 40 minutes long! Talk about taking out all the pomp and circumstance. The readings and the responsorial were read within seconds after each other. And then after a brief alleluia, the gospel was read. The Eucharist, Our Father and all that were bam, bam, bam - consecutive. I liked it. I used to dread mass because of how long it took. I know most masses only take an hour. I guess it's not really the time but the ceremony of it all. I always imagined the re-enactment of the Last Supper would be among firends and family - comfortable, personal and easy going much like a normal meal. This mass wasn't like I had always imagined, but it was a great deal simpler than masses that I have attended prior. There were no painfully bad choirs singing and taking their precious time to belt out all six verses of the Eucharist song. We sang acapella and we did well. The priest offered his thoughts on the gospel and how it pertained to our normal lives. It wasn't too preachy. Maybe it was a little bit but the homily today (Monday) was quite simple and humble. There was no bell ringing, no kneeling/standing/sitting.kneeling, etc. People acted as they felt was proper and if you liked, you could sit the entire time. Although the mass was rigid in format - readings, gospel, homily, Eucharist - it wasn't a show. Do any of you know what I mean?

Then, after mass we had a nice breakfast at a cafe. Quick digression: We made friends with our waiter and when we went there for dinner we found out he has a US Quarter collection of all the fifty states. He said  he was missing Hawaii and New Mexico. Such a sweetheart. At the end of dinner, we got the card of the cafe with the address and his name. Pierino. My mom plans on sending him a 2 dollar bill, dollar coins, and the missing state quarters.  

Then we decided to walk around the town until the 5pm procession to the church of Pius X. It was nice, but very obvious that most of the locals profit from the 5,000,000 pilgrims that come every year. Still, we stumbled upon another church in the area and spent a few minutes there reflecting. My dad spent a good amount of time looking for the best deal on these bottles in the shap of Virgin Mary so that he could fill them with the water of the spring St. Bernadette dug herself and give them to his friends. I did the same, but I bought these adorable glass bottles. And yes, I spent a good amount of time looking for the best deal. Seriously, people can rip you off if you don't shop around first; especially if everyone is selling the same thing. You might see the rosary you bought at one shop for 5 euros cheaper than where you actually bought. That's always a bummer.

Next, we all split up in the early afternoon. I walked around, bought some ice cream and filled my bottles. It was really lovely to do so on my own. See, I tend to like doing things on my own. I don't really like to wear my heart on my sleeve. I filled the bottles, said my prayers, washed my face and neck and drank the delicious water from the tap. There is a long stretch of taps beside the great Church of the Immaculate Conception. The church is built upon the site where St. Bernadette saw Mary 18 times. I should probably tell you the story.

Bernadette Soubirous came from a very poor family. She was the eldest child of five, I believe. One day, she saw a vision of a small woman in a white robe wearing a blue girdle with yellow roses on her feet. The woman smiled at her and asked her to come to the grotto to see her for 15 days. She told her family and at first they thought she was mentally ill and refused to let her go. In the end, she convinces her parents and she vistied the grotto. Of course, everyone in the town caught wind of what she was doing and she was received with mixed responses. Some believed her and come with her to the grotto; some thought she was crazy and wanted her to be put away and some didn't know what to think. She was brought into question. People wanted proof. They wanted to know to whom she was speaking. I think it was by the 11th visit or so the woman finally told her she was of the Immaculate Conception. Who else could that be? During her visits to the grotto, Mary asked Bernadette to have chapel built in that place. She told Bernadette to drink and bathe in the spring and eat the herbs that grew there. Funny enough, there was no spring in the grotto. Bernadette began to dig and after a while fresh water began to flow forth. Amazing. Bernadette soon became tired of the attention the visions brought her so she joined a convent where she spent the rest of her short life. She died of tuberculosis at the age of 33.

Voila. So the taps. Why are there taps when in the story I wrote of a spring? I'm guessing to protect the purity of the water, the town of Lourdes created a system so that the water was both protected and easily accessible by many.

Alright, then by 4 in the afternoon my parents and I were back in the room. We rested a bit and made our way to the main square. It took a bit of a tussle. My dad has been quite stubborn during this trip, but we made our way to the starting point of the procession which was across the grotto on the other side of the river. The music started and we watched hundreds of people in wheelchairs pass by with their nurses or volunteers pushing or pulling. What a sight, what a moving, heart opening sight. My mom cried. I understood. I wanted to cry too, but again, I hate to wear my heart on my sleeve, but I will tell you this: I walked for every one of you. I walked for my friends, my family, the sick, the unhappy, the poor, the rich, the unaware. My heart reached out to every single person my life, my presence, my skin has touched. I walked for you that day. I asked that you may all find peace, may all let your hearts fill with love, strength, compassion and courage. I asked that you might all heal from whatever hurt you feel whether it be physical, emtional, relational, mental or anything else. I asked that you all feel loved.

Deep breath. We followed the procession to the Grand Mary statue and followed the long path down one way and up the other to the church of Pius X which is underground and can hold 25,000 people. From what I could tell, the church was nealry full. Wow, right? Wow! It was a great ceremony and I could feel the Spirit there. I could feel everyone's belief coming together and creating a huge collection of love, faith and peace. We were all connected that day. I felt very honored to be a part of that community of lovers, believers, human beings.

And today, we went to church again. We walked through the grotto and reflected. We enjoyed a lovely breakfast and lunch. We drank from the taps and washed ourselves on more time. And now, we'll be walking to the train station to head to Paris. I am ready to take this experience head on. I hope to be brave and kind and open. I hope to make friends. I hope to make smart choices. I hope to have the best time of my life. I hope to travel. I hope to be fluent in French. I hope that these three months help me to become the best human being I can be and prepare me for what's next.

Amen. :)

    

HUGE UPDATE!

Now anyone can leave comments! YAY!

Lourdes

Hi everyone,

I know I just posted an update, but I had to get you all caught up on the haps in Lourdes. It's a windy, twisty little town that houses a beautiful cathedral dedicated to the Virgin Mary. The story goes that St. Bernadette had a vision of Mary and was told that the people of the town must turn to her son and they must build a church where Bernadette saw her. That's all I got, but by tomorrow I should have the full scoop.

We participated in a beautiful procession with hundreds if not thousands of other pilgrims. I believe they were mostly Italian since the first language spoken during the ceremony was indeed Italian. In fact, there were seven languages (at least) spoken during the ceremony - along with Italian there was French, Spanish, German, English, Portugese (from what I could tell) and Tagalog. What a treasure it was to stand among a community supporting and believing in the same idea. At the end of the ceremony, we were all asked to spread a wish of peace and goodnight to our neighbors. That was awesome! It was wonderful to hear peace in so many different languages. What a gift, indeed. Pictures will be coming soon. I know I keep saying that but seriously! Tomorrow you shall find the delightful treasure of pictures.

I prayed for you all...well, I asked that Mary listen to the prayers, thoughts and needs in my heart. I asked her to send her grace, strength and bravery upon you all. I hope you felt it reach you. I love you all. 

Notes from the train (written this afternoon)

You have probably noticed that I have yet to wear my little black dress. Ironic, I know, but it’s too dang hot right now to wear such a lovely thing. Honestly, I would sweat in it and not look classy, timeless or chic nor would I recall Audrey Hepburn in your mind at all because if I wear it in the dead of this heat that is sweeping through Europe, my blunt cut bangs would be all matted and damp. My over-sized sunglasses would be slipping down my already nose. If I were to wear the black pumps I bought for my little black dress, I would have cramped, overheated feet. And we all know how uncomfortable it is when your feet are too hot. Right? We’ve all been there…right?


Anyway, I just thought I’d clear the air because we all know it was on your minds. Second thing I must do is apologize for only thanking Kim for being a follower. I didn’t realize that you had to be a gmail address holder in order to be my follower (sounds weird.) so I wish to thank everyone who reads my blog – these plainly decorated entries and longwinded updates. Until I figure out how to let anyone make a comment or something to that effect, I recognize your silence as love. And I hope you recognize my verbosity as love too. I wouldn’t do this if it weren’t for you. So thank you for your support, readership and patience. I hope you’re enjoying it so far. If anyone knows how to make a blog more interesting looking, can help me hook up my Flickr on to my blog and/or knows how to allow anyone and everyone to make a comment, I would love to hear from you via facebook or email. You can reach me at veronica.asence@gmail.com. As you know I have a blackberry, which is great but it is quite limiting when it comes to updating my blog (as in it doesn’t let me do anything but look at it) and internet here in Europe is pretty sparse. Advice about internet cafes would be immensely appreciated as well! I know some great world travelers are taking a peek at this humble little journal too.

On to my second day in Barcelona! I write this after the fact, but the city is still fresh in my mind. Our hotel was situated in the center of La Rambla, one of the liveliest and eclectic places I have ever been. There were vendors on the streets selling birds of all kinds from canaries to roosters. They had turtles and rabbits too! Quite fitting to call it a zoo, my friends. It’s a great place to walk and people watch, shop and eat. It’s good if you need a fresh slice of life. It’s just good for the soul, I tell you. We enjoyed our second day aboard the Bus Turistica and my parents indulged me by stopping at La Sagrada Familia – Antoni Gaudi’s unfinished cathedral. Construction has been going on since 1884, if I recall correctly. 1884! That’s over a hundred years and it has yet to be completed. See, the only way work gets done is through anonymous donations and by the fare it costs to step inside and look around. It was breathtaking. If you have never seen anything created by Gaudi, you’re missing out. Apparently, as a child he suffered from rheumatic fevers frequently and was left in solitude to recover. It allowed him to enjoy and to connect with nature, thus inspiring his entire style and career. His work is very organic with tiles on the roof of a house recalling the scales of a dragon or in the cathedral’s case, the columns that helped hold it up reminded one of trees. You have to look him up. Then, my parents indulged me further by stopping at the Park Guell next. GORGEOUS! It’s a great place to stroll and enjoy Gaudi’s work in nature (the way it should be) or to sit and find local treasures of your own. For example, I stumbled upon a mini theatre or sorts with a man playing the most beautiful Spanish guitar. I could have sat there for hours to listen to him. And at the top of the park entrance, there are steps that lead up to this area of columns where again people play music or sell hand crafted goods. I’ll get the pictures up on Flickr. And I’ll get the address of my Flickr on here. Promise.
Then, we ate lunch near the Port Olimpìc. I had some really fresh and nicely batter calamari for my starter. My mom had Iberic ham (reminiscent of proscuitto or parma) with little potato croquettes and my dad had a seafood feast. Can I tell you, I was absolutely disgusted with my dad’s manners and eating habits that day. DISGUSTED. He ate in the way a starved lion would attack a gazelle. It made me sick to my stomach and quite embarrassed. I believe he liked inducing such reactions out of me and was quite sadistic about it. I don’t really want to go into too much detail. It makes me a little queasy just trying to describe it. And I know I must sound unkind, but honestly, I have never seen anything like that before and never do I ever want to see anything like it again. On to happier things, my parents both had paella yet again and I had leg of duck in a sweet and sour wine sauce with prunes. Delicious! I ate it all. We suspect our waiter didn’t charge us for all that we ordered, but he ignored us anyway and only came to our table to give us our food and the check. It was his fault, really. We were delightfully full so we walked down the pier for a bit and took a stroll to gander the beach, but since my parents are wimps, we only saw everything from afar. Bummer, but guess what we did all up close and personal? We went to the casino… Of course. I’m not a fan. You come out with less money than you had before and you smell like smoke. My mom cheated a bit and put in a 100 euro bill into the penny machines so it looked like we were winning. And I did win! I won us 20 more euros that were played away twenty minutes later. We left the casino 40 cents ahead. Great time at the casino, huh? I know I sound like I’m complaining, but there are casinos all over the States and hello, we have Las Vegas for goodness sake! I will say I wish we could have done something else with our time. I do plan on going back once school has started. I loved it there.
This morning, we took off for Lourdes. We are on our second train transfer and we’ll need to catch a third. My motto for travel shall now and ever be: travel light but travel chic. What does that mean, you wonder? I’ll have backpack or a mini-rollie with my little black dress, boyfriend jeans, three blouses, a scarf and a light jacket thrown in. Perfecto! Of course, I’ll have toiletries, underwear and a couple pairs of shoes, but for a (girly) girl, that’s pretty light. Add a good purse with my phone, iPod, camera, journal and a couple snacks inside…I’m set. And if I’m feeling particularly easy-going, I’ll fit the bare minimum in my beautiful Northface backpack that Juan gave me for my birthday. It’s going to be great.
I miss you all.

Embarrassing story! You know you want to laugh at my humiliation! :-P

Okay, so we were at Gare d'Austerlitz waiting for our train to Barcelona and I had to use the bathroom pretty badly. I asked probably 5 people where the restrooms are in the train station. I still couldn't find it until a security guard stopped me and said he was watching me go round and round the station and that I should have asked for help. He basically walked me to the bathroom. I forgot you have to pay a bit to use public bathrooms so I walked back to my parents in shame. I ended up waiting until we boarded and used the restrooms there for free.

Hola Barcelona!

We took an overnight train to Barcelona last night. First, we went from Stuttgart, Germany to Paris; had a four hour layover, and then, we took a "hotel-train" to Spain. My mom made it out to be something luxurious and first class, etc. but if you have ever seen the Darjeeling Unlimited, you'd know what our "room" looked like. In fact, it wasn't as nearly as large as it was in that film. We did have a shower in our bathroom, but I was too creeped out by the floor-cum-drain. Seriously, almost the entire bathroom floor was a drain. As someone who is oddly afraid of drains (what if somethings crawls up while my hand or foot is near?!), I avoided it as much as possible. I went in there with shoes, I tell you. And man, it was a bumpy ride! Can you tell I'm complaining a little bit? I really shouldn't be. I should be proclaiming it as an experience of a lifetime! And truly, it was. We enjoyed a very nice albeit shaky dinner. I had salmon and goat cheese for my starter, porkchops in apple puree with a side of vegetables confit for my main dish and fresh fruit for dessert. We had a very nice waiter who put up with my dad's antics. My mom calls him "rough around the edges". He very much is. He pointed to what he wanted on the menu without uttering a word, didn't say please or thank you and he sort of just does whatever he wants. In retrospect, he is always endearing, but sometimes it's a little hard to watch.

After our dinner, we headed back to our cabin. Despite being able to drink, it wasn't me who was a little tipsy on the way back to bed. My mom has a sensitive case of Asian Glow and my dad just gets silly. "You're not allowed in my room. Honey, make sure your mom doesn't come to my room!" He kept saying that through half of dinner. Ah, young love. Oh, I forgot to mention that my dad had his own cabin because our room was honestly five weet wide and maybe ten feet long. No joke. Once our beds were set up, we had about a foot and half between our beds and the wall. He definitely wouldn't be able to fit comfortably on the bottom bunk with my mom. Plus, he snores like no other! I could hear him through my wall on the top bunk with his bathroom between us. It's bad, I tell you! But the rocking of the train lulled me to sleep and it was just peachy. My mom woke me up at 6am thinking we would be arriving in Spain at 7:30. Groggily, I threw on some clothes and stumbled to the dinner (now breakfast) cart. We weren't the only ones there, thank goodness. There was a sweet Spanish gay couple a few tables away...and us. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we were al little early. Try two and a half hours early. Our train wasn't supposed to arrive in Barcelona until 8:30. I could have slept in an extra hour. Bummerrrr...especially since Spaniards don't even take their dinners until 10:30 at night. It's been a long day already. But my mom was so cute! For a whole hour and a half beforehand she kept saying we had arrived already by pointing out people jogging in some random park or by seeing some buildings she assumed were the downtown of Barcelona. Cute, man. She was just so excited! That made one of us. My dad and I just let her go on and be excited. Why not?

So then, we made it to our hotel via taxi, dropped off our bags and headed to one of those hop-on/hop-off tours. We rode the blue and green lines and tomorrow we'll be taking the red line. I used to dread them, but I realize now city tours can help orient you in a brand new city...if you pay attention. Don't worry, I was paying meticulous attention in fact. I hope to stop by the Mediterranean at Port Olympic and dip my toes in the sea. I hope to get to Park Guell to check out Gaudi's works among others. It's going to be great. We did have a little boo boo while riding the buses and my dad and I got separated from my mom but thank goodness for Blackberries and buses that go predictable routes. We met at a transfer stop and took the blue line back to Catalunya Square. Then, we took off to lunch. I "indulged" in one of those prix fixe meals while my parents had paella. It was a satisfactory first lunch in Barcelona, but if anyone has any reccomendations for good eateries or cuisines to try while in Spain, I'm all ears! Dinner will be in about six and a half hours.

I'm now carrying a journal with me to make notes for good entries, but it's ironic of course. Now that I have something to write with at all times, I have nothing to make note of. I'm sure it'll come after a few days. I'm not worried. Also, I'm making a list of places to see and visit when I'm on my own and again, I'd love to hear your feedback.

Thank you, Kim, for following my blog. You are now the person encouraging me and reminding me to update my blog and make note of my adventures no matter how mundane, frustrating, guilty, exhilarating or happy. 

IOU (a VERY HUGE...)

Update. Let’s start from the beginning as in August 23rd around noon. We picked up my brother from his condo so he could see us off and take the car while my parents were gone. We said our goodbyes, shared hugs and my mom gave my brother ten dollars with explicit instructions to buy the winning Mega Million Lotto ticket. Wish us luck. Then, we were off to venture into an unusually crowded Sea-Tac airport. I was taking two big suitcases and two little ones. Sounds like a bit much, right? I know, I know. But I had to be prepared (read: I still forgot some things, which I would love to share with you and embarrass myself.) and well-equipped to face the most chic city in the world. My parents had three suitcases between them so you can imagine the mass we had to wrangle in to the weigh station and such. Luckily, we were flying business class and we each got three free check-in bags and a special line to use in security. Ahh, being the daughter of a business savvy, high credit scoring, gold member of every travel service known to man, no holds barred woman. What a mouthful.

Business class was amazing! You could fit a whole economy class chair in between me and the chair in front of me. Lumbar massages, full recline, personal TVs, multiple course meals. It’s disgusting, isn’t it? Why can’t they make the whole plane like that? Money talks, I guess. And being wealthy will always have benefits. Only this time, we’re not wealthy elites trotting the globe. We (read: my mom and dad) are hard-working, pull you up by your boot straps, tough love kind of people who deserve every bit of luxury they earn. Okay, so my mom and dad are those people. I’m just lucky to be their offspring. Cha-ching! I kid.

So I watched three and a half movies (Sunshine Cleaning, 17 Again… I can’t remember the third full one, and a part of The Reader) and an episode of Bones before we made it to Amsterdam. I think I slept for about 45 minutes when we took off minus the magical reclining power of my seat. Still absurdly comfortable though. Can you tell I can’t get over flying like that? It was just…wow. I wish it upon every person I know and love. We land in Amsterdam. The airport is clean, spacious and chock full of duty free stores. Seriously, separate stores dedicated to whiskey and cigars, chocolate, wine…you name it. Wow. We walked around for a while searching for our designated lounge. And after a couple blisters on my slightly swollen feet in brand new shoes, we make it. I fell asleep intermittently in a comfy albeit tight chair in front of an Italian business man. Not so flattering, but I couldn’t help it. I hope he didn’t judge me too much.

After a couple hours, we bustled over to our gate and boarded. It was a short flight but we still got a snack-y sort of meal. I’m not quite sure what it was, but there was chocolate in the dessert. No questions when there’s chocolate, my friend. We decided to take a 17 euro bus instead of a 70 euro taxi ride. Totally worth it. I got a nap in. But when we got to our hotel room…wait, let me digress. Hotel rooms in Europe are slightly ridiculous. You either get a king sized bed or two twin beds. Not so great when you have three people. We worked the twins though, no problem. It’s just that they’re so small! I think it’s a reflection of the way Europeans live their life. The bedroom is just for that: the bed = sleeping. In the States, wow, you could fit half of your house in a deluxe hotel room. We like our space, Americans. We like to lounge about and walk around in our rooms. We equate luxury with vastness and greatness of size. So it seems. Europeans are usually smaller in frame anyway, but they seem to be less demanding when it comes to a hotel room. I’m basing this on a small frame of experience, but I’ve come to agree with the European way of seeing it. All I need is a clean and soft bed with an equally clean and accommodating bathroom. Not so much to ask. I don’t need a view, but I do need…I don’t know, toilet paper.

Enough of my digression, on to the details of my first day! We slept from three in the afternoon to eight in the evening. We were tired and jetlagged. We strolled the streets of the area called Montparnasse. It’s pretty urban and lacks the same aesthetic beauty of the other areas in Paris. Anyway, we walked around for an hour or so and ended up eating at a place that served burgers. Sigh. I voted for crepes but my dad wanted something more substantial. To tell you the truth, I don’t think my parents like Paris much. It makes them uncomfortable. Parisians are quite exclusive. They judge you on the way you look and have engrained in their minds poor impressions of Americans. They don’t all speak English and they enjoy a very different way of life. Their coffee is strong, their lunches are huge, gallant affairs, their dinners are small and they’re stuck in their ways. People who are stuck in their ways don’t really like others who are stuck in ways different from theirs. (Did that make sense?) I’m thinking that’s why Americans and the French don’t like each other much. I could get on my soapbox and be all preachy but I’m letting it be for now.

That was Paris, really. Oh, but I should talk about the meal. It took two and a half hours to get a salad, burgers and a dessert. No joke. They waited twenty minutes to take our order. They waited twently minutes before serving each course; drinks included. And they forgot my dessert and got all snotty about it. See, if it was their mistake, there was no need to be rude to us. Bother. Anyway, after that, I don’t think my parents like the French much. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that their three days in Paris while I am taking placement exams and moving in with my host family goes well for them.

Quick funny story from dinner, we were eating at a place called Hippopotamus restaurant and we all ordered Hippo burgers, My dad thought they were serving us actual hippo meat. I have such a cute and funny daddy. It took about ten minutes to convince him otherwise. A part of me still thinks that he thinks we ate hippo meat. See, sometimes he just gives up and doesn’t argue. With two women in the family, he’s outnumbered without my brother. And I do feel bad. Man, do they get into fights like cats. It’s something about traveling and holidays. The biggest fights always happen during those times. I’ve now learned to be a bystander not a referee. Talk about giving myself way too much psychological scarring. They’re both Scorpios so it’s a little difficult. Actually, (almost) everyone in my family is a Scorpio – my mom, my dad, my brother, my grandma, my grandpa, my great-aunt, my dog…I’m the only Gemini.

So Stuttgart, we woke up at five in the morning to get ready and left at six to catch a 7:30 train. We really should have left at 6:30 but my mom always thinks she knows what she’s doing. About 95% of the time, she has great intuition, but let’s just say this was a part of the 5% she doesn’t always get right. It could have saved us a fight between my parents, a grumpy dad and sitting for an hour staring at each other…if she had listened to me and the Concierge. Eh, we made it to Germany all whole and relatively happy human beings. The train ride was very nice. And I was able to finish the Grapes of Wrath. LOVED IT. I’m on to East of Eden, but I should really get on to French books and newspapers. It’s Steinbeck, really. He’s irresistible.

I don’t speak German. I speak and understand French, mostly understand Tagalog, some Spanish, a very teeny tiny bit of Italian, and an even smaller amount of Arabic, but German – no. We were a little disoriented in our quest for the hotel. My mom and I decided we’d make an adventure out of it and walk through the park to the hotel. It was only 10-15 minutes and very lovely, but my dad was a Debbie Downer and complained that normal people don’t drag luggage around in a park. Well, he should be proud we’re pioneering the movement. Luckily, we had a map and there were pictures and some recognizable words that got us through. But my dad got in trouble. He seriously dragged his suitcase and caused a good-sized hole in the back. My mom was not happy.

We took a city tour which was nice, but we fell asleep because we were full of traditional German food by the time the tour started. Let me just say, bratwurst with warm sauerkraut is AMAZING! Then, we went back to our hotel and slept some more. We like our sleep, okay? Still jetlagged. This is our second day! Sorry, I got a little worked up. We woke up around 8:45 and walked around. The Germans do not take their dinner as late as the French, but we figured something out and I had a crepe while my parents had some pizza. The girl who helped us was really nice and gave us a great deal.

We got back to the hotel room and that’s that. My parents are asleep but here I am typing away. I shouldn’t take such long naps anymore, but on the bright side, I can update you all with a ridiculously long entry.

My next plan of action is to create a Flickr account and get the link here so you can read and see my adventures. Cheers!

**I feel like I’m leaving stuff out, but I’ll try to write more updates more often. I hope that when I’m done traveling with my parents my blog can take a different turn. I feel like I’m writing in a journal. I’ll work on it.

Can't think straight

1 little black dress

1 black pencil skirt

1 white pencil skirt

1 black blazer

2 pairs of boyfriend jeans (amazing!)

2 pairs of skinny jeans

1 pair of straight legged jeans

3 dolman shirts

...Okay, this is getting ridiculous. I doubt many people know what a Dolman is anyway. Basically, I threw half of my closet into two big suitcases with high hopes that they are acceptable attire in the most fashionable, most chic city in the entire world. I'm not worried at all. Deadpan sarcasm doesn't work so well on blogs...at least I can be assured by my little black dress. Throw on a pair of black flats, a scarf wrapped casually (read: painstakingly placed to look breezy and effortless. Ha!) around my neck and a big slouchy hobo bag filled with all sorts of cosmopolitan things. Voila! I'm ready to take on the city of Love and the rest of the world.

I should make a different list. A list of hopes, dreams and goals for my upcoming adventure...which I shall make after I sort out all of these tangled thoughts and feelings swarming around in my overstretched yet somehow underworked brain. Goodness, on my walk to work today I had so many things to share with you, but as I sit in front of my oddly wide screened computer, all of it just slips from the grasp of my mind. Boo. Perhaps another lucid and mindful moment will come at a time of inconvenience as it usually does, but hey! I have a new toy to help me with this chronic and pedestrian problem. I have a BlackBerry or as Juan and Kelly call it, a CrackBerry. It has my email, instant messenging, internet, and get this: "Word to Go"!

You mean, I can just hurry my little clicker thing to my Apps and find this Word doc thing and write all my heart's desire? Yes, ineed. Some of you might look at me disdainfully, call me a sad product of my generation and offer me a spiral bound notebook and a ballpoint pen. I hear you and and I feel your dagger-stares. But when trains, subways, and my own hurrying footsteps are jostling me about I cannot hold a pen to paper steadily and call my handwriting what you call legible. No sir (or ma'am.) So celebrate with me the sometimes greatness of technology! Hurray!

Okay, I have to add a postcript. Tomas gave me a beautiful journal and I plan on writing in there. Thoughts at the cafe, quotations from people I hear on the streets or read on famous tombstones. Don't you worry, technology has not taken me over completely. Cheers!

To My Darling Readers (haha)

I laugh because I don't have any darling readers...at least, I don't now, but I hope they come in the near future. Welcome to my blog. :) I figured this would be a cooler way to keep people updated on my adventures during my stay in Paris. And the name of my blog...well, I didn't want to be too cliche with some witty globetrottin' line. I know the little black dress is cliche in itself, but it's classic too and I like that. But I think I might keep this humble online journal (if you will) for longer than my time in Paris and all of Europe can accomodate. I hope you all enjoy what I have to give you - pictures, words, maybe some videos, and a lot of love.