Not all those who wander are lost

My last full day in Paris:
5am: My phone rings. I call Kim back to hear tears and memories flood me. I rush downstairs to watch CNN. No matter what you think, this is how it affected me...
I have been apathetic to a degree for so long. I never got as excited as my friends did for this election. I never went to see him speak. I never talked too much politics. I just didn't participate. At the same time, I am not someone who ever threatened to leave. It hurts me to hear people say they will move to Canada if elections don't go their way. I would never abandon the country that I call home for a place I really could if I wanted to. More than you could. While things don't always go our way, change happens, no matter whose credo that is or not.
I thank Kim so much for calling me.
I watched McCain's and Obama's speeches, both were fantastic in my opinion.
I was reminded of being six and arguing about abortion.
I remember being ten and the Florida recount.
I remember being eleven and being out on the PE field at school when the towers were hit. I remember not getting it.
I remember my mother crying.
I remember being 14 and passionate and going to progressives club and arguing and fighting and trying to make some difference for being so small.
I remember watching the debates and taking notes.
I remember talking politics with my dad, which no one ever really accomplished.
I remember the election party. I remember falling asleep on my bed while Kim read the big Hippie book. I remember hurting. I remember getting up for school and feeling lost. I felt defeated by my system. I remember sitting in the courtyard.
I remember being 15 and watching conspiracy movies and learning about the military industrial complex.
I remember burning out.
I remember not giving up, but just being.
I remember AP Gov and how it was one of my favorite classes.
I remember leaving.
I remember not being able to get my vote in, even though, to anyone who asks, my ballot got in.
I remember not caring like I thought I should.
And I remember hearing Kim's voice from Boston and thousands of people behind her and believing in the system that I never abandoned.
It will be slow, long, hard, and not what everyone expects, but it will be something.

10:30: I finally tear my eyes away from the tv and get ready to go out for the day.
Noon: I met Xavier and we went to Pere Lachaise. We walked around and got lost in there just like Asia and I did. We grabbed some lunch then coffee then got his bus ticket. We grabbed dinner and wine and wandered around looking for a bench to sit on.
7pm: We finally succeeded.
Midnight: I said goodbye at the metro. I said goodbye to alot of things. I said goodbye to some walls, but I think maybe others got stronger. Time will tell. I don't feel like explaining.
12:30 I managed to shove some intoxication into my last night of travel. New Aussies and new crazy friends with metal plates in their shoulders and Italians who live on a sailboat and Canadians who listen.
3:45: I went to bed in my clothes.

8am: I am up and tired and not quite ready to go, but I'm coming either way. It's a shit day in Paris and I started my period. The excitement of that on a 9.5 hour flight really is my icing on the cake. But I am not bitter or sad about leaving. I don't regret anything I have done or the people I have met. I wish I wasn't in such and in between place because I could write better for you. I could tell you about the person I almost got into a fist fight with while CNN was on. I could explain to you that Gracie stayed in Chicago, maybe I 'll see her in the airport this morning. I could elaborate on my times with Xavier, though it's nothing juicy if that's what you think. I could do alot, but if I can't tell it, then maybe it doesn't need to be told.

I don't know what I'm coming home to, except some drive to pay attention again and get in my car. I will play my guitar and see my friends and make tons of phone calls and sleep and probably cry.

I'm glad I left and I'm glad I'm coming back.
This blog ends here for the time being, until I'm back out in the travel world again. Thank you for reading. Thank you for wanting to know.

I'm a bit overwhelmed with all I've done and all that has changed since I have been gone.

Jamie and Rebekah, I'll see you in Chicago.

What is the feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing?--it's the too-huge world vaulting us in, and it's goodbye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies. --Jack Kerouac

There are two types of people I despise over all others. Yes over them all.
People who use flash in museums.
People who feed pidgeons.

You can be the nicest, most open-minded person in the world, and if you do these things, I will look upon you with scorn.

Today was beautiful and clear, like the Paris I love.
I went to the Louvre and I am glad I don't have to go to another museum for a really long time.
I ate lunch in Tuileries like every other Parisian soaking up the sun.
I took a long nap.
I went to Monoprix to buy diner and decided all I wanted was orange juice, rice cakes, garlic cheese, and cookies.
I ran into Dillon and Kyle from Rome and my hostel. Oh coincidence.
My computer is a royal piece of shit. Wifi isn't working and so I'm paying to sit at a computer. I think my baby just misses America. Well fucker, I'm buying a mac when I get home and you are going in the trash. Whore. I'm sorry I'm so immature about my computer.

I think I broke my fever.
I think I'm getting better.
Last night I hit a mood swing.
Today I hit a mood swing.

I couldn't tell you what it's all about, but they happen at th drop of a hat.
I don't care about elections anymore. I don't care about modern bullshit. I want to sit on a beach with a book.

People I need to see before I depart this town:
Xavier
Larissa
Gracie

It will probably happen in that order.
Blah, I have no plans tomorrow.

Currently reading: The Unbearable Lightness of Being-- Milan Kundera

Today I went to the market and didn't have a panic attack. I walked around, tried things on, and didn't freak out. My main goal was to buy a coat, because the rain/heavy one I brought died. I have had it since I was 12, I think it was time.

Anyway, I have realized that while I love all those flowy shirt/dresses, I just cannot wear them. I tried a few different styles. It's okay. I accept it.

I found this hippie booth, and really, I almost went dirty hippie on you guys. Some of these tunics...oh you would have killed me. It wasn't like every other cotton flowy hippie booth. This stuff was different, and I was oh so tempted. But I didn't, and got a coat there instead. It's pretty mild except for the hobbit hood. Shhh. It's red and black. Canvas on the outside, fleece liner. I'm pretty pleased.

So I didn't die and that's all that matters.
I took a shower for the first time...in a long time.
Did you know my bed has a curtain around it? Yeah, beat that. Well you wouldn't know what hostel living is like, but that's amazing. This place is great.

I think I have a fever right now. My face is all flushed, which never happens, but I'm not sweating. Dunno.

I'm rambling obviously, but that was my day. I plan on staying in tonight, grabbing dinner here probably, and reading. Maybe I'll meet people, maybe not.

Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I don't know who I'm looking at.

I made a new friend yesterday at my hostel. This kid sat at my breakfast table, but we didn't talk until we ran into each other on the metro. Xavier from Montreal was switching hostels, because ours was lacking. (I changed to a new hostel today as well. One with a bar and free internet and a better atmosphere and closer.) I took him around town a bit. We did Champs Elysees and the Notre Dame. I bought more books. My pack is heavy because I have five books and a computer. Take that stuff out and it's like a feather.

We grabbed coffee and lunch and then went to his new hostel.
We went to Canal Saint Martin and ate our leftovers from lunch and drank wine and talked about our love lives.
He's very handy to have around, him speaking French and all. French is his first language, so sometimes his English doesn't work out so well. We went to grab a beer at a bar so we could both use the bathroom. Essentially we just walked around all day. We talked, but not that much. It was nice just to be in someone else's company. The thought of wandering around Paris aimlessly again just wasn't appealing. Larissa bailed on me because she was hungover. So we just wandered around and he took tons of pictures with his huge SLR camera. This drunk guy asked us for money and then talked to us for a bit. I could generally understand the conversation. The man wanted to feel the 'good heat' with me in Florida. Xavier thought that was hilarious. Eventually we made ourselves to a metro station around 9:30 and parted ways. He's sightseeing today and maybe we'll go the Louvre tomorrow (remember I still haven't done that). Whatever, it was a nice relaxing day of walking in the cold rain.

Today it's a bit clearer and I have dropped my stuff at the new hostel. I'm off to go to some cheap shopping at the market and then who knows. I think I'm getting a bit healthier, so I'll probably stick to this going to bed early thing. Sleeping is getting a little easier.

Downside to my life right now: I have lost my chap stick. Alas.

Oh hey, Kylie. I know I'm never in town for your birthday, but, Happy Birthday.

And I am back in this city that I have a love/hate relationship with.
The train ride was ok.
Interesting note though, we were going by the alps and there was snow on top and it was pretty, blah blah, and then we go in the tunnel to leave Italy and go into France. The second we get into France the whole area is covered with snow. It's like I stepped into winter fucking wonderland. I literally went on the same train the other direction three weeks ago and it was all green. What. the. fuck. SNOW! I am totally from Florida.

Also, I am sick as hell. My molars/wisdom teeth are coming in, my lower glands are swollen, and I can't breathe. I am so tired, but sleeping is miserable. I went to bed at eight last night, and I think I kept the French girl up with my heavy breathing/snoring. So cool.

I've had soup for dinner and I'm eating so much fruit. My ears need to pop or I can barely hear anything, don't know what that's about.

All in all, I'm falling apart. Woot.

Today I got up early, had breakfast, and walked for about two hours, ate lunch, window shopped, bought boots. I was hanging around Gracie's apartment hoping I would run into her, but she's still in the states, lot of health and family things going on. She gets back wednesday, I hope I see her. I knew her essentially two weeks, but I consider her a really good friend and I miss her. I miss spending time with her in Paris and bitching about the place together.

I'm gone three fucking weeks and the weather goes to shit. I am extremely glad I have held onto both jackets this long. It's cold and rainy. One jacket is falling apart though.

I think the whole thing wouldn't be so bad if I was healthy, but I'm not. I'm not miserable being back here, it's comforting really. I don't have to worry about getting lost or how to get to places.

Blah. Sick. Love everyone. Seeing Larissa tomorrow.

And I'm back in Paris tomorrow.

This morning I went to the duomo and then went to La Scala for my opera friends. There are no pictures of Milan because I didn't have my camera on me and I couldn't take pictures where I was anyway.
It's been raining all day and I have been inside going through all of my stuff and packing.
I managed to find a cheap hostel in Paris for a few days until I figure out my possible alternate booking.
Tomorrow I don't have a seat on my train and I was told I could sit in the luggage area for 18 euro. Seven hours on the floor. Awesome.
I plan on Paris being my reflective time where I figure out what I've learned and how I've grown. Also, I'll be able to write again. I haven't been able to write anything cohesive since I left. I'm excited to see Grace and go shopping a bit and wander the streets that I know so well. It's all winding down and soon I'll be breaking my neck for home. I don't know what's different, but it's something. Maybe you'll see it and be able to tell me.

I'm glad I left and I'm content coming back. To all my friends who I haven't been in person to help, I love you and I'm proud of you and I can't wait to see you. I want to thank everyone for reading of my adventures, you've only got one more week to stick around.

I guess I get all sentimental with some Van Morrison and some rain.
This trip would not have been possible without my dad and I think there are moments that he would have really loved. The restaurant in Florence, the noise in Riomaggiore, and the quiet times staring out the window.

Wow, the tears are coming. Happy or sad, I couldn't tell you. Just overwhelmed I guess. Maybe it's this:

Everything changed suddenly--the tone, the moral climate; you didn’t know what to think, whom to listen to. As if all your life you had been led by the hand like a small child and suddenly you were on your own, you had to learn to walk by yourself. There was no one around, neither family nor people whose judgment you respected. At such a time you felt the need of committing yourself to something absolute--life or truth or beauty--if being ruled by it in place of the man-made rules that had been discarded. You needed to surrender to some such ultimate purpose more fully, more unreservedly than you had ever done in the old familiar, peaceful days, in the old life that was now abolished and gone for good. --Boris Pasternak (Doctor Zhivago)

I am going to do my best at writing in chronological order from my last entry.

So I lied about everything being closed, Italy just does this dumbass siesta thing in the middle of the day when I want to go grocery shopping. I cooked more in the kitchen, and then went downstairs to hang with the cool kids. I have never heard people talk about sex and sex organs so openly and much in my life. It's not like a girl sleepover with these people, it's all every day conversation. It was absolutely hysterical though. (Tenses in this entry are going to be difficult, bear with me.)

We were bored and didn't want to go to the bar so we sat around playing the drinking game 'asshole' and had white wine and limoncello. We are all pretty buzzed. Well at least I'm buzzed and they're fucked. We have Van Morrison going and we're standing outside talking and some are smoking. All of a sudden...

Splash.
Pause. Shock.
Splash.

We all move inside. Two floors up someone is throwing buckets of water on us. It's 11:30pm on a Sunday. We all were laughing our asses off, soaking wet. The water was still coming down but we were safe in the doorway. Italy is known for people throwing trash and ecrement at loud people, I'm glad it was just water.

Yesterday I went on the hike. It started out pretty easy but then became death. I saw too many people and not enough beach accesses. I hate uphill anything and stairs. The views were amazing and I wouldn't take them back for the world, but I cursed anyone coming the opposite direction. Their uphill climb was so much easier. I was sweating bullets and my muscles were screaming. I had the opportunity to hike down to one beach, but I knew if I went down there I would never come back up. I managed to slip on the only manmade stairs on the hike and now I have this really cute grapefruit sized bruise on my ass. I took the ferry back to get my fill of ocean.

I got back to find Allison, Collin, and Dave had moved up to my place and some guys from the Virgin Islands were there along with an Aussie girl. We sat in the kitchen and listened to music and took turns cooking. We ate and drank and then headed to the bar for more revelry. That lasted a few drinks and then we were back and managed to bring people with us. It's a whirlwind of music, smoke, voices, and glasses. I was down for the count but you couldn't tell. Sometimes I get drunk and I beautifully walk and talk, but then I lay in bed and don't get up until morning.

I awoke at four am to the sounds of people having sex on the top bunk. Nice.
I awoke just before nine to get ready for the day of trains.

Then, all of a sudden, I hear violent banging on the apartment door downstairs. The crazy old Italian woman that threw water on us the other night is screaming about how everyone was drunk at three in the morning and she's calling the cops. At three in the morning everyone was having sex or passed out. They way we were going last night there was no way we were up that late. She then comes to our door, I'm the only one up and like hell I was opening the door to hell. She starts yelling at the new guys downstairs and then vanishes.

Everyone gets up confused and then starts cleaning like mad men. We did dishes, swept, got rid of bottle evidence. While this is going on, the crazy lady is moving all of her furniture loudly to wake up the drunk people she didn't think she woke up. No matter what happened later we cleaned that place and there is no evidence of debauchery left. Half of us checked out today and no one admitted to anything. Huzzah to disturbing the peace!

My Cinque Terra stories will be better in person, but man, what a great time in a beautiful place.

Today I fucked up my trains majorly so I don't want to talk about it.
I'm safe in Milan. I'm sick. I can barely walk. I'm pretty sure I haven't recovered from last night.

Pictures up on photobucket. Be jealous.
I know you miss my face.

Yesterday I missed my connecting train from Pisa to Riomaggiore (where I'm staying) and illegally hopped trains to make it into town on time.

I walked up too steep a hill to check in, but my apartment is right over the marina and has a great communal kitchen. I dropped my bags and headed to the cliffs. On the train ride over I almost cried out with joy to see the water. The ocean. Finally.

You can climb down the rocks to the water. The horizon goes on forever and it was clear skies. The view behind me was steep cliffs, colorful apartment houses stacked on top of eachother, and dark skies. It's a less tropical Hawaii.

I went the small market and bought a bag of lettuce, a bag of pasta, and a bottle of wine. I feasted in my kitchen.

The people in my dorm and I didn't really hit it off. We don't dislike each other, but I really have no desire to be around them, so I got to know the people downstairs. They are much more fun.

Allison, 28, from Spokane. She looks much younger and is crass and witty and welcoming.
Collin, 26, Allison's drinking buddy. Also crass and witty.
Dave, a Canadian they picked up in Prague.

We talked shit and drank wine and headed to the only bar. We all had a few drinks, took jumping pictures and alienated ourselves from the few Italians. I headed home early, I'm still not healthy.

I got up this morning and made toast the Bayshore way. Olive oil in a pan. I had picked up some nutella a few days ago. Yum.

Today I took the train to the farthest village, Monterosso, and laid on the beach for a few hours. I wish I wasn't paying 8 cents a fucking minute and I could get wifi just so I could upload pictures of this place.

Tomorrow I'm doing the five hour hike between here and Monterosso. I think it's the closest thing I will get to wilderness for a while.

I always forget that everything is closed on Sundays. Looks like I'm having pasta and salad for lunch and dinner today.

Talk to you in Milan.