Noah's musings

Of all the seemingly arbitrary things, I read a simple status on facebook from one of my friends which reminded me of something.

It reminded me that genuine passion exudes complacency, triviality and self-conciousness.  This update on facebook really had nothing to do with any of this....she just reminded her biking friends to stay warm during the cold weather. Good tip. Bad days and good days alike must both be put in the perspective of insignificance...and in so doing I think a better sense of place is begot.  I always seem to be questioning myself; is this a good idea? Was that the best choice?   Am I the sort of person who would find this interesting?  Who am I, anyway?  The question will never be entirely complete and I think that is a good thing.

I miss biking tremendously, and that dynamic should change this weekend.

So, alas, I am moving Friday from my small rectangular box in the exorbitantly expensive and beautiful arrondisement of Paris known as the 16^th - in all of its splendor - to a more central neighborhood with things nearby I can actually afford to do and actually stay open past 9 pm.  (If anyone is actually curious, type in 15 Rue Decamps Paris France 75016 and compare it to my future residence of 10 Rue Cité D'Hauteville, Paris, 75010) It will be with 4 european roomates in an actual apartment on the first floor.  Right now, I live on the 6th floor, atop 105 steps without an elevator.  To be honest, this really does not bother me...I curse everything and everyone as I ascend, but really, I like how much my calves have grown since I got here.  They've never been this big…

Well, there are a lot of steps in Paris.  I think it will be alright.  Anyway, I have a relatively beautiful bike I bought here in my second week that currently hides in a basement underground.  I don't like that.  It hides because I have nowhere to put it to safeguard it from the weather, and relocating it from the basement to ground level is not a particularly easy feat.

In this new place, I can keep my bike inside.  On the first floor.  

So, rambling, I just wanted to procrastinate a bit as I need to create a presentation tonight.  Actually, it's a topic of my choice based on my culture...sounds fun enough.  It's funny how trying to communicate in another language you do not understand terribly well reduces you to a child in many ways.  Anyway, I am choosing to talk about Chico.  I will have three main talking points - nature and what Chico has to offer, art and all of its forms from the shows at Naked Lounge to my aspiring, musically-gifted friends.  And most importantly beer, and how French can only get wine right and could afford to learn a thing or two from Sierra Nevada.

 I left this mid-sentence last night because I heard someone calling…from the street down below….my name!? My friend Eoran from Chico who was residing in France until today (she is moving to Montreal and on a plane as I type) needed a couch to crash on – but I thought she was coming today! Thank God I procrastinated and didn’t work on my presentation until then or I might not have been sitting alone in silence staring at a note pad to hear her.  It's so strange - my friends are scattered throughout the world.  Transcontinental relationships...I love it and despise it.

So my latest obsession of late is the catacombs of Paris.  There are more than 180 miles of these caves under Paris – an entire subterranean city that needs exploring.  Now it’s not entirely legal to go down there and entrances are hard to find…but how can I not be curious about the underground history ranging from Roman times, to Napoleon to World War 2?  Century-old plaques and underground lakes?  Yes please.  Check this out and tell me it is not enticing…  http://www.catacombes.info/

Sentiments of time later

Noah says and apologizes for spelling errors becaue his laptop is french:

"Vagabonding takes (traveling) a step further: it promotes the chances of sustaining and strengthening this positive attitude.  As a vagabond, you begin to face your fears now instead of continuously sidestepping them in the name of convenience.  You build an attitude that makes life more rewarding, which in turn makes it easier to keep doing it."  - Ed Buryn

Well, it definitely gets easier.  My attitude needs a touch of adjustment, though. I described to my friend the other day, after he asked how it is and how everything is going, as "Well, it's Paris."  These nearly three months have sort of slipped by me and I am realizing I'm not entirely content with how I've handled them all in all- I've done this before and that sort of honey-moon effect never really got to me.  It's been more of a struggle to push myself in to different things, which i love doing.

I'm not entirely sure what it is I'm saying - I almsot never am until I reflect on everything and look back at it, which is why I journal.  Right now I am faced with a decision: move out of my little but cozy expensive box on the 6th floor in one of the nicest (but not exactly central) neighborhoods of Paris to a place with roomates - 2 italians, a french and an english guy.  It's a real appartment, I could actually bike AND store my bike in the house. I live across the river now up the hill out of the way a bit...it's not exactly as practical for biking.  The other location is quite central.  Sounds like an easy decision, right?  Well, it should be, so I'm going to do it.

My classes are lackluster and unfulfilling.  I almost revel in the joy that comes from being able to talk to a tech support person for something in the U.S. over skype because I can manipulate the English language to serve my needs.  "Je parle avec l'air d'un enfant" is the truth.  At least my mental capacity is not also that of a child.    It's fun and intriguing albeit hideuosly annoying sometimes- not being able to express myself how I am used toor how I would like. (But that's why I'm here...)  I've been to two west coast swing dance classes now and, as I was writing down in my journal the new things I learned yesterday night, I was nearly home on the line 6. The line 6 goes over the river Seine and provides a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower.  Without thinking I had this brief feeling of not just being another body passing through this conglomorate of structures people cars and objects but a feeling of actually belonging or purpose...so, right now, I think I will continue to justify that.

It's really frustrating because the French culture does not really embrace superficial small talk akin to that many of us are familiar with in the United States...argument is a tool to understand each other better, not prove your point.  If you know me much at all really, you probably know that all you have to do is say one of many keywords and I will be happy to blabber endlessly about my thoughts on said subject and listen to yours.  The French seem to love that, expressing themselves and their idiosyncratic thoughts on said subject.  The annoyance is how much I would love to be involved but simply can't - not without the ability to express myself with some deceny in French.  I guess my standards are....refined, or something, or so said my friend.  I think he's right, and I think patience is the answer.  After all, I have another 7 months here to figure things out. That definitely does not seem like enough right now, though.