Water, Actors and Rico Suave.

---

Before I actually begin this entry, I just want to mention I read over what I wrote last time and I will actually take a second to apologize for all those typos. The computer at the hostel was really slow, so you couldn't actually see what you were typing - after almost typing a full sentence it would then appear... so I really couldn't see what I was writing. One day when I'm bored and procrastinating, I'll probably go back and fix them. But, regardless, I'm sure you got the idea - I LOVE PARIS. In case that wasn't clear.

One thing I forgot to mention about my trip to the Louvre - at one point, in a section full of Greek relics, I came across an older couple from the southern USA. The wife was happily leading her husband around, but would almost always open with "Well this stuff is old... old old old. It is very old." Then she would read something and say "Yes, it's very very old. These are old greek things." The best part was she said so in the style of a wise teacher - and she did it loud enough to ensure all of us knew the objects in a room called something like "ancient greek relics" were old. I'm glad she cleared that up. Otherwise I would have thought the Louvre could really have held a garage sale to get rid of some of the old junk they had sitting around collecting dust.

Speaking of Paris.... My last couple of days in my apartment were really lovely. I spent much of them reading in cafes and walking around seeing little things. I spent another few hours by the Seine reading and sitting in the sun.

I was so lucky with the weather - usually about 25 in the day. The leafs are just starting to turn, in some neighborhoods more than others. Unlike Edmonton, Autumn is an actual season in most European countries. The leafs aren't in such a hurry to lose that precious green. Perhaps these trees are older, so the leafs understand the value of hanging on to their roots - unlike their younger North American cousins.

After leaving the hostel I decided to treat myself to dinner out. My French got quite a bit better in those few days - but for some reason it's menus that I always find to be the most confusing. For one thing, almost everything is written on black boards, and the handwriting is sometimes a bit tricky - but more importantly (annoyingly) they use a lot of different ingredients so I actually never learned those words...

The reason I usually don't eat dinner out in Paris (and why being able to cook in the apartment was so great) was because it's usually ridiculously expensive. If I convert it into Canadian dollars, a simple salad can cost about $20.

But on my walk home I passed by a Vietnamese restaurant that had a "vegetarian menu" (which in paris means more than one course) for 11 euros. Sold! I was asked to CRAM myself between two older Parisian couples. I got to pick from five appetizers and five entrees and in doing so realized there was a word i really didn't know how to even say. I decided to ask the owner/server... of course that gave me away.. So shortly after ordering the man to my right asked where I was from. This began a long conversation about Canada and ordering food in Paris, where I should eat in the neighbourhood, and most importantly how great my French was. I always find it funny when they say that, which they often do, because I make a lot of mistakes, and because i'm out of practice my accent is pretty weak. I think I probably sound like a fifth grade version of myself speaking.

Eventually the couple to my left started asking me questions too - so we all ate and chatted and it was really nice. It was the first real French conversation I'd had since I'd been there. Even in Paris they say "yes it's cold where you are from, but it's a dry cold!" Alberta, we are famous for "the dry cold."

After dinner, and one couple's departure, the owner cleared my plate and brought me a little shot glass. I asked the woman to my left what it was and she said it was a Vietnamese liquor that was "tres bon." Ladies and Gents, that woman is a LIAR. Because it was not good. In Greece they serve you something called raki at the end of meals. It's the drink that used to make us laugh so hard we cried because it tasted worse than rubbing alcohol. Well this drink was just like that, except it had a bit of a rose water smell to it. I guess it was made from rice - my guess is gross rice that's rotted in the sun and then the mold from that is squeezed out and put in little glasses for silly white people to drink. Although it was hilarious to discover that at the bottom of my shot glass was the picture of a very naked (and very excited and "large") man wearing some leather suspenders. Apparently this alcohol also comes with porn. This could significantly change the name of this drink for me, but because this is a family blog I won't go there. It was entertaining to see the older man decide not to drink his (because he saw the photo) and pass it along to his wife.

After dinner I decided I should do some laundry so that it would have a full day to dry before I had to pack on Wednesday morning. I was on Skype with Amber, when I made a joke about "Not flooding the apartment." The apartment had a little washing machine in the kitchen, and Charlotte told me it was fine if I used it. So I loaded a few things in, figured out the rather odd dial/button system and away I went. It was about 1am and I was sitting on the couch reading, and all of a sudden I could hear water running. As if it was coming out from the machine. I stand up to check, and sure enough WATER IS SPRAYING OUT LIKE CRAZY FROM THE BOTTOM OF THE MACHINE!

I run over and notice a hose has become loose/detached and is flailing around spraying water all over the place. I jump over to turn off the water (just a short reach away, i knew how because of a dripping tap issue so she had showed me how to do it) but the water just kept spraying... I was also sliding all over the floor because it wasn't clean water but water full of detergent. I quickly shut the machine off, and the water stopped gushing and was just trickling. BUT if i didn't hold the hose in a certain position, enough of it must have been pumped up already that it would spray out again.

The hose wasn't long enough to reach the kitchen sink, or the bathroom sink or toilet. I don't have any way of reaching anything I can put it in, and if I move it the wrong way it will spray again. I am all wet because when i had to pick it up it sprayed me and I'm standing in about an inch of soapy blue water. To recap, I'm all wet and I can't move because if i do everything else will get more wet. Then i realize that my clothes are also locked in the machine, so unless I figure out a way to finish the cycle they will be stuck in there.

I try a couple of things (and spray myself more with water in the process), eventually figure out how to maneuver the hose out a little bit more and manage to wrap it around the wall and into the toilet- water fills the toilet, but it drains and doesn't over flow. As I watch this I make the mistake of moving a piece of hair out of my eye that was wet, and in the process get detergent in my eye. When I go to the sink to try and rinse it out the water isn't working because I had shut it off... I now can't open my eye because it's stinging so I can't see the littler lever to turn it on - eventually I do, only to notice I must be slightly allergic to the detergent because my hands are turning red.

But I'm Lana Washing Machine Warrior and I'm going to fix this thing. Not even because I think I can, but because now it's just after 1am, and I can't call anyone. So I turn the machine on, and after a bit of a struggle with the complicated dials/buttons I manage to get it to fast forward to the rise/drain cycle - the hose still draining into the toilet. To clean up all the water on the floor I only have one giant towel. So I use that, but it takes forever and gets so heavy that it's practically useless. Finally it ends and I can free my clothes from the machine.

So the next morning I write an email to Charlotte from my phone explaining what happened. She wrote back and said it must have been a nightmare and hoped my clothes were okay. A couple of hours later, I opened my airbnb account and had a message I hadn't been able to open on my phone from her. It was from the day I arrived, with special instructions on how to use the washing machine. Apparently i had to hook that hose up to something under the sink.... Doors and washing machines, my two biggest problems in Europe in 2011.

The next day I started to do a bit of packing/placing, and then just took a really long walk to a different part of my neighborhood. Eventually making my way to one of my favorite cafes for a coffee and to read. I, for the first time, managed to get a seat outside.
So i'm sitting in Monmartre, the neighborhood of the infamous Amelie Poulain, that stole my heart years ago. Do you ever walk around Paris and imagine that your life is being narrated by the narrator from Amelie? And when things are too beautiful or too sad you melt like she did? No? I do. All the time.


So I'm sitting in this cafe, about three blocks from the cafe from the movie, people watching and drinking my overly priced cafe au lait, when a man walks in front of me and stops. He's looking around, and he really looks familiar. At first I think I'm fooling myself, but then I just keep looking and looking... and as I do my heart is beating faster and faster. And I keep looking, and blinking because I really can't believe my eyes. There in front of me, for what felt like five minutes but was probably just one and a half, is one of the actors from Amelie. He played the older cranky man from the cafe who was in love with the server. Of course I've googled him, and he's actually got a good body of work - but that doesn't matter because he was in Amelie. And there in her neighborhood, sitting outside in a cafe, I saw him... walking around... and I think my mouth fell open and stayed that way. I wanted to say something to him, and then after he walked away I wanted to say something to someone beside me but couldn't bring myself too... so I texted Nicole. At about 5am Edmonton time.
How serendipitous is that? I am anxious to go back to the city of lights to see what my third amazing serendipitous moment will be.

Later because the cafe was getting busy, someone had to move and sit closer to me. Eventually, when she saw I was reading an english book, we started talking. Her name was Aine (that's pronounced Anya, it's an Irish spelling) and she was from the States. She was born in Ireland and moved to the states when she was 15, and just finished working outside of Saudi Arabia. She was in Paris, staying with some friends and looking to maybe get a job there. But she doesn't speak French. So I helped her order wine and we talked there for a couple of hours, eventually going on a walk to find cheaper food.

My plan for the night was to go and finally see the Eiffel Tower and get a bottle of wine, so I invited her to come. We met later that night and took some wine, got on the metro and head toward the tower. I took us a different way than I had normally gone there, so we actually were standing right under it as it was all lit up. It was really beautiful. When I go back I will go to the top because that's Kristin's condition, but we decided against it that night.

We sat and talked for a really long time. It's always fun to go there because you never know who you'll meet. This time we were surrounded by two separate groups from Brazil who kept doing chants in Portuguese. It was like being at a south american soccer game - but in France. At night. Under the sparkling lights of the Eiffel tower.

After a while, because everyone is always borrowing things (lighters, bottle openers, pens etc) from everyone around them, we sat with a large group of people - it was really like an international meeting of travelers. We had a man visiting from Argentina, his friend from Mexico who now lived in paris and had a mexican accent to his french, a girl visiting from Russia, a girl in school from Russia who had the weirdest accent i've ever heard (british, german, russian and french all meet), a guy from India who was also studying there, the irish/american and me! It was great except that Argentina took a liking to Irish/American, and was trying to be a little smooth - but that was hard because he looked like Rico Suave, except he had a jerry-curl (sp?) BUT the sides of his head were also shaved. Basically his hair cut set all Argentinian men back a couple of decades.

The Indian/Parisian was one of the nicest people I've met traveling so far, and offered if I wanted I could stay with him when I get back to Paris. Eventually we stayed so late that we all had to scatter and run to try and catch the last metro. We made our first train, but were too late for our connection and had to take a cab. That's one thing that is ridiculous about Paris, with a city that size that has the night life it does (there is no "closing time" required for bars usually in Europe) it's silly not to have at least SOME lines run 24 hours... but the metro shuts down at 1am.

As we were exciting the station Irish/American and I started talking to these two very well dressed Australian men. They were a couple who were visiting, although one of them had lived in Paris for two years. We shared a cab with them, which they eventually paid for (they were really nice) because we were all going to the same area. They were getting off at the Moulain Rouge (about 3 blocks from my apartment) because one of them used to dance there and they were going to visit their friends after the show. I was secretly hoping they would invite us along, but they didn't. So I said by to Aine (aka irish/american) and hit the hay.

It was really hard to leave the next day. I got up really early after not much sleep, showered and packed. I took one last walk around the neighborhood. I didn't want to go far because Charlotte said she might be coming home, so basically I just hung around until noon, and then locked up my little Parisian getaway for the last time.

I made a tactical error getting on the metro to the Orly airport, so it took me longer than it should have. This was only made worse when I was finally on the RER (suburban train) they made an announcement I couldn't hear. So I asked a man standing next to me if they said i had to get off at this station and wait for the next train (sometimes this train splits) to go the airport. He said yes, so JUST in the nick of time I jump out of the train, GG weight heavy on my back. Then I turn to watch the train pull away only to see the other man who was there signal "no no, you didn't have to get off!" and start to push the button hoping to let me back on... but it was too late and the other man just waved apologetically. Lucky for me i left about four hours before my flight, so I still made it on time, and had time for an over priced airport sandwich and coffee too. I had flashbacks of Jono and I running like crazy people the last time I was at that airport.

So now I'm in Berlin.... alright funny things have happened. But that entry is for another day. I think I have also sort of decided where I'm going next - but that's a surprise for another day.

xo
lana michelle

---