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Published: March 1st 2010
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This entry feels very fitting as I spent a good part of my morning in the French welfare office--CAF. Most of the assistants apply for CAF since it offers monetary assistance to cover housing costs--l'aide de logement. Since our salaries are so low we usually get reimbursed a percentage of our rent. Unfortunately, since it takes forever to get things done around here, I probably won't get the reimbursed money until April, but at least it's retroactive and I will get one big lump sum. Better late than never. Especially now since there are only a couple of months left and most everyone's funds are running dangerously low, and by dangerously low I mean that there is a good probability I will never want to eat a PB&J again when I get home.
But the purpose of this blog isn't to lament my financial situation. I think I have a found a cure for shopaholics. Needless to say that I am sure the previous paragraph underlines the reason why I would need to search for a cure for my shopping problem. Granted, I understand there are plenty of other reasons to curb your spending habits, but let's be serious, who wants to do that unless forced.
After I left the CAF office today I could not bring myself to get back on a bus. They are crowded and cramped and smelly and sometimes a little frightening. Besides, it was one of the warmest days we've had in a while--seriously it felt like 70 degrees sometimes in the sun. With the wind and the cloud cover it usually doesn't feel quite that warm but it was still at least 60 degrees. I headed down to the Promenade and planned on just walking most of the way home. But being so close to the beach was just too tempting, and all the noise of the traffic was getting a little annoying. It's incredible how quiet the beach can be. Once you walk down it's like you are miles away from the traffic--the noise and the smell are gone and all you can hear is the crashing of the waves on the rock. It sounds just like the biggest rain stick in the world, and it's one of the most peaceful sounds I've ever heard. I could listen to it all day long.
Admittedly, it's a little difficult to walk on the beach here, and it would be nearly impossible barefoot. But I love the rocky beaches. I actually find them comfortable when laying out. Once you've wiggled around a little bit and the rocks fit your body it's pretty comfortable. Not to mention warm when it's really hot out--my roommate and I used to lay them all over ourselves and joke about being at a spa with those hot rock massages (I have no idea what those types of massages are actually called). Not only are the rocks fairly comfortable, but I think I might prefer them to sand. These rocks don't somehow find their way into every imaginable part of your bathing suit like sand does. I find that to be infinitely more uncomfortable.
The other great thing about the rocky beaches is how beautiful the rocks are. From the Promenade and from most pictures you would think all the rocks were just the same grey color. You couldn't be further from the truth. Yellow, purple, pink, grey, black, white, brown, tan, speckled, striped, and each one is so different from all the rest.
And then, sprinkled amongst all of the rocks, there's the seaglass. It's everywhere. All over the beach. All shades of blue, white, green, amber, yellow, and sometimes even red. This is the cure for shopaholics. Seaglass is absolutely one of the prettiest things in the world. Much like shopping, it's the hunt that's the best part. You can spend hours walking on the beach and scouring the rocks just waiting for a glimmer or sparkle to catch your eye. It's almost everywhere, so it's like going to a store where you like everything. You're still searching and hunting, but every piece you find you love. And how exciting when you find something rare--a piece of deep, royal blue or bright azure or crimson red. And the best thing about it is it's free!
I spent probably close to an hour on the beach today. Wandering and occassionally sitting, listening to the giant rain stick and looking for seaglass. I have no clue what I am going to do with all of my seaglass, but it's so much fun finding it. It did made me think a bit about our need as people to have and to collect things. So many of us find it impossible to appreciate the natural beauty of things without changing or altering it by taking a piece for ourselves. Is it selfish? So many of us just want to keep a piece of the moment--in this case, something to remember the peace and tranquility we felt, something to take us back to the beach, something tangible that we can hold when we close our eyes to recall the noise and the smell and how we felt while we were there. Is it wrong to want to keep a piece of that moment with you? Of course, I think people sometimes begin to focus too much on the things that mark the memories rather than the memories themselves. Maybe it be better to leave things the way they are so that others can appreciate the same beauty. Maybe it would be better to accept the transigent nature of things and to not be so compelled to take. It's that same compulsion to take, to change, and to make things ours that has gotten us into the state we're in today.
But I've decided to leave that larger debate as food for thought for the moment. Laisse tomber le sujet in other words. For now I've found a wonderful cure for my uncontrollable urge to shop, and I am sticking to it.
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