I've been sweating this week out, opening a bank account, getting a credit card, appartment hunting, looking at phone prices, wondering if living in the burbs and renting a car makes sense...
I've been sweating this week out in nightmares of my first day of work on Monday, nightmares of David having already found someone else, nightmares on the nights he calls that he's only calling out of guilt...
We don't say "I miss you" anymore, we stopped saying "I love you" that last time I hugged him after lunch with cf and Jason, and now... We talk about how I got lost at this metro or that, how the jamaicans in Chatelet grab my ass and try to conduct me by means of bad breath and pressure on my buttcheeks to whichever alleyway they are currently conducting business in.
I wonder if the minorities in Paris buy into racism more than the richie white people (can't really call them WASPs can i?) do, but they seem to have memorized a certain behaviour when interacting with anyone not of their inner circle.
Considerably more than was my experience in Montreal, at least, where not every single arab, algerian, or black man immediately screamed out "hey blondie wanna go out with me?" if I happened to be passing within eight blocks of them.
I think I'm going to dye my hair a very, very, dull brown...
I'm coping, though. The state of shock is passing somewhat, I was worried that it was taking so long but I guess the circumstances were particularly difficult -- not knowing if I was staying, where I would live, if I had any money, etc...
I'm starting to dream in french again, starting to plan meals again, going out to movies with friends and looking through austere store windows for things I recognize.
I'm starting to recognize everything. I no longer get lost in the metros. I know how to get here, get there, the maps correspond perfectly to the cobbles I've hobbled down.
All that's left is to swallow the enormity of my responsabilities at work, and I'm set...
Set to survive this year, maybe even enjoy it, maybe even stay.
After all, I'm beginning to get just comfortable enough to ask myself...
"What do I have to return to?"
But I still remember. Medicare and Quebec, poorer education but more freedom, children who learn to speak barely two languages in their lifetime, but who are scattered amongst some of the most open-minded...
But here, everything is fresh. Here, everything is beautiful. Here, everyone smiles at you in the street, even in the big city.
Here people think first, bark later.
Here, they make fun of Americans on the morning news, at every opportunity, first it's the weather when my alarm goes off in the morning and then it's
"and today's travesty committed by those arrogant, cultureless, illiterate pricks to the south of Canada is:"
And it goes on.
But they play hip-hop music videos on all the tv stations anyway.
Funny, how hippocrisy is just as constant a thing in every society I've ever been in, as self-doubt, jealousy, and compassion.
So on my lists, my lists of what I want from a home and my list of what I want from a man/woman/partner I'm going to have to remove the search for a place sans hippocrisy.
But perhaps, I will find somewhere enough compassion to ease the pain.