life happens. before the hands can transcribe thought to script, the moment is gone. you keep on living. the details fade, and you can’t remember why you wrote that note about the ________.

but maybe it’s not the details that are important tomorrow.

today, six months later, i look at my notes: 

paris day three:

work, buy a french wardrobe due to climbing clothes selection

head to the louvre – seeing masterpieces i studied in college, things i wrote papers about, huge endless rooms of the world’s best art, surrounded by soldiers, never felt unsafe but rather safer amongst it all

mona lisa thoughts, masterpiece thoughts, all the thoughts

ice cream at the famous place on the island, patron saints of paris watching over

meditation with aunt and friends followed by dinner, another night falling asleep as my auntie drove me home.

by the bastille

paris day four:

breakfast – family does a mooc about versailles but it’s in french, so i do work

opera bastille – l’elisir d’amore by gaetano donizetti – lead female was amazing, a fun comic light hearted performance, fun to get dressed up, black and white – the colors of france

paris day five:

church

Versailles food market for some lunch fixings, baguettes, cheese, crepes, french yelling

family bonding – funny how us schneider women are all the same, the “outlaws” instead of inlaws

sunday – slow and simple

roasted chestnuts (french word for that = marrons chauds), i thought it was just a song

paris day six:

city tour…

train in by myself

notre dame – eavesdrop on a tour guide

shakespeare and co.

le procope

wander around latin quarter – get lost, curving streets meandering and turing into dead ends, endless cafes and creperies

tuileries garden stroll

champ elysees christmas market

petit palace / gran palace

arc de triomphe

crepe – egypt man

centre pompidou – pollack, matisse, different vibe, outdoor escalators reminded me of hong kong, best view from the top, tired legs, tired soul

eiffel tower always in the distance, standing tall watching over its city

day seven:

wake up in the french countryside to a crazy sunrise

versailles – palace and gardens, meandering with audio tour, wondering what it would be like to have a bedroom like those…

thai food for lunch with annie and jim

movie night – hunger games mockingly part 2

day eight:

rest?

day nine: 

museo d’Orsay – prostitutes exhibit, one elite parisian prostitute with last name schneider, maybe a past life… women in photography exhibit, giant inner working of clock, my monets

tour with ethan’s mom – local view, born and raised, best pastries, stories from long ago

thanksgiving dinner with family complete with my favorite, a delicious homemade pumpkin pie

day ten:

fly home via iceland and maryland to st. louis to meet family for thanksgiving weekend

today, six months later, i remember:

i remember the graffiti. after coming from hong kong, the artistic expression flying by me through the train window was comforting. back in a space known for its creativity. the culture and language that gave us avant garde. without stalking the historical cafes where artist after artist stewed over music and poetry, i felt it in the air. in the architecture. in the opera. in the fashion. in the people. there is a certain hype that surrounds paris, and i will remember being entirely swept up in it.

i remember the aloneness. i haven’t walked around alone in a big city in quite some time. aimlessly wandering the streets with no specific destination in mind. seeing where a left might take me instead of a right. missing a subway station on purpose so i can backtrack by foot through the chaos. walking around paris reminded me of when i lived in buenos aires. they say it is the paris of south america, and if i had to go by the way both cities made me feel, i’d have to agree. the magic is palpable. to passerbys, my joy probably was too.

i remember the meals. my aunt and cousins sat down together for dinner almost every night. the bell would ring and supper would be served. the busyness of the day would come to a pause as we all gathered around the table to fuel our bodies with food and minds with conversation. perhaps they don’t do this all the time. maybe it was because i was in town. but, either way, it was a cherished gift. a chance to get to know the relatives who have lived so far away all this time. a chance to learn and debate and laugh and eat fresh baguettes and drink french wine.

i’ll always remember what i remember. the specifics aren’t really that important anymore.