I love my new place.  It is a studio.  The design and layout is perfect for one person.  It has an oven which is unheard of in Paris and I had this grand idea of making my christmas cookies that I make every year.  My grand idea failed miserably and I had doled out so much cash for the stupid ingredients. gah.  Even to buy baking soda aka  bicarbonate du sodium was a hassle.  I might try another batch tomorrow.  We shall see.

Today I did a photoshoot with all my friends in Paris.  The light in my new place is fantastic and we had so much fun. I love all their faces and I wonder why i am so easily attached to people. I wonder then too if they feel the same about me..

It makes me heart hurt to think I may not ever see them again. But such is life? I can go years without seeing some of my dearest and we get together its like not a day has gone by.

Friday night I went to a Beret Party for Yasmine.. ( Belgien french girl). She is delightful and wears her heart on her sleeve like a fresh tattoo. No filter and always says something shocking and and honest. I bought and wore a red beret thinking I wouldnt ever wear it again. Turns out I like it, its warm and looks good on me. I am perhaps more french than i realized. ;)

Bretsy’s christmas party was Saturday night. I arrived wearing green instead of an ugly sweater since I didnt want to pay for something i wasnt going to wear again. Everyone.. everyone was wearing red. I stuck out like a green thumb and loved it. We ate and drank the night away and of course took photos.

Today the tears don’t stop.  I am packing my things to move to my next apartment and I as I collect my belongings I think of everything I have experienced.  Even this week. As if my time here could be topped by anything else, I have once again been blown away by people, their kindness and generosity.  If I had a dollar for every time I said to myself “If I were to die right now I would die happy” I’d be a millionaire from this year alone.  I think about going home and I think that all the possibilities and hopes that this place has for me will disappear.  That they are a dream and simply just that.  That I will wake up and reality will be there staring me in the face.  Reality is what we make it, no?  We have that freedom decide what we want from this life and how we conduct ourselves in it.  Why can’t I say, “I want to move to Paris and study art and become a photo assistant and meet people and learn french.”  Why does that seem so impossible?  Life is hard.  No choice is easy.  It takes hard work, there are set backs, lessons learned.  Why are we so afraid of these things?  Are we suppose to live life out of fear?  Make decisions based on what is safe?  There are no guarantees.  There is no easy way.  I don’t want to live out of fear.  No more. Not for me.

I’m lying in bed at 1:30pm in the afternoon.  I’ve been taking it easy this week even though I feel like I should be outside if nothing else just walking through the city.  I met up with the chef yesterday to help him with his christmas shopping before I headed over to the Grand Palais to see the Edward Hopper exhibit.
I was invited to see the exhibit with the french fashion photographer that I met in Morocco.  He quite miraculously found me on facebook after we had forgottten to exchange names or anything at the airport.  Long story short we had a great time at the exhibit.  It was really well done and covered Hoppers progression as an artist and even had pieces from his teachers as well as other big artists who inspired him through the years.  They summarized the exhibit with another artist whom Hopper had inspired.  It was amazing to see the journey of an artist through his paintings. Technique, colors, light.
After the exhibit we walked through the christmas market on the champs elysee and decided that it was too cold to walk much further.  We hopped on his bike as the eiffel tour started to sparkle and headed to meet up with some of his friends for some wine.  I asked him how he got his start and how he likes what he does.  He is a lighting specialist for some of the top fashion photographers here in Paris.  He started off with an internship with a famous studio.  He said he would gladly help me get an internship there and he also said that my wedding photography was really good and that I had a good understanding of light.  We ended the night with some dinner at an italian place in Montemarte followed by an even colder bike ride back to the Goncourt metro.  So much fun and I really really had a great day.

Arriving back in Paris and walking up the stairs to the apartment I first arrived to 5 weeks ago created a weird cloud of emotions over me the last two days.  Perhaps I reflect too much on comparing this time to that.  It was odd to think of when I first arrived and all the emotions I was experiencing and to now walk around with the knowledge and memories that I now carry.  All good and yet bittersweet since my time is beginning to wrap up here.

My body is quite angry with my after the last few weeks of traveling, drinking and just go go go.  I stayed in bed most of yesterday and drank lots of water.  I resisted drinking any wine at poetry night and ate lots of veggies at dinner.  I have totally gained weight here and I sorely miss my running shoes.  I have almost bought some a few times, but I literally don’t have the room in my suitcase.  Its a good thing every building has 6 flights of stairs and that I walk everywhere!

My new friend Betsy gave me a hug last night that made me miss my girlfriends something fierce.  I skyped with a few and found the tears couldn’t stop.  Thinking of going back to the U.S. and all the decisions there to be made followed and I’m so overwhelmed by the thought of it. My brain swirls with “SF NY or Paris?”  I don’t know which one is the right one to choose.  As if one would be easier than the other.  I think not.  So I ask myself what do I want?? and I don’t know.  How hard is my life that I have those as my options. :sigh:

Oh Amsterdam.

Day three and I’m ready to leave.   It’s too much like Vegas where too easily things can get crazy really quickly.   I walked through the red light district and came out with only the feeling of disgust.  I headed to a place that is famous for their pancakes and waited in line for 30 minutes for my table of one.  The food was delish and then I did a little more shopping and wandering.  The Italian photographer I met in Paris is having a gallery show so I make my way south on the tram and drink wine and look at art with a faux interest.  It is great to see the Italian and her energy always surprises me. She is very gregarious and makes me smile.  I got back to my hostel unsure of what to do with the rest of my evening.  I didn’t really want to get high by myself since I had seen what too much of a good thing can do to the people here.  I needed a buddy.

I had the room to myself the last two nights, which was kind of nice, but I also had not met anyone new which was a bummer.  The girls in the room across the hall seem kind of crazy and every time the door swings open it looks like a bomb went off in their room.  I guessed them to be Russian but I’m not sure.  I knocked on their door to ask them if they knew of any place to go dancing.  Turns out they are all from Glasgow, Scotland and their accents are SO thick I can hardly make out what they are saying.  They invite me in for a drink.  They are all in their early 20’s and here for a concert.  They look like they are doubles for Jersey Shore with their poofs, eyeliner and neon skin tight clothes.  They insist I spend the evening with them when they learn I am traveling alone.  I realized before they asked me that I would have to tone myself down a bit..   so when they asked how old I was I said 26 and it was met with a gasp and “you are so old!”.    ……  I laugh to myself as I’m typing this.  So there you have it.  I got drunk and high with these jersey shore scots and could only understand every other thing they said which was entertainment all its own.  A perfect end to my time in Amsterdam.

Sitting in a cozy café as the snow falls outside. I had to talk myself into leaving the hostel this morning. It was warm and cozy and outside was 32 degrees and snowing. I’m super happy with my cold weather purchases. Just in time.
I walked to the Anne Frank museum with angelic Christmas music in my ears. It brought warmth to my soul and turned the dreary weather into dream. I’m in a lovely city and the snow only adds to its charm. If I keep moving the cold can continue to chase, but not catch me.

I arrived last night and after approving my hostel I ventured out into the city center.  I am centrally located about a block away from Dam square.  My stomache was telling my to eat food so I wandered towards the south west where my friend Alex told me there was great soup.  The soup was BOMB and so was the walk there.  It’s funny to me the contrast between the old majestic buildings and twinkling canals and the condom shops and weed cafés.   It was too cold at that point to continue walking so I headed back to the hostel where I met my roommate Camila from Brazil.  With her broken English we were able to become friends and agreed to venture together the next day.  We had a few drinks at the bar attached to the hostel and called it a night.

The next morning met us with a nice layer of snow on the ground which only made everything that much more charming.  We wandered towards Vondelipark and checked out flower shops, canals and took photos on our way.  After a short cold stroll through Vondeli we headed east towards the Heineken factory.  We had a discount coupon from the hostel, so why not!  Many free beers later we headed out again to track down the IAMsterdam letters and then pursued some food and hopped into a Spanish restaurant has it started to snow again.  It is so brutally cold here.  I am not used to such weather and despite my best efforts I realized how unprepared I am for the climate.  We headed back to the hostel and dethawed.  At that point I realized I wasn’t going to be able to enjoy my time here unless I bulked up a bit so I hopped around the corner to the shopping area and bought myself some serious wool socks a thick hat and a warm pair of boots.  I now have high (and warm) hopes for tomorrow.
I am totally blown away by this hostel.  If they all were like this I would stay in hostels ALL THE TIME. So clean, the free breakfast was incredible and they even have a straightening iron and blow dryer in the room for you to use.  I feel pretty spoiled.  I still have my stuff locked up as if I had a million bucks in my bag. It is a hostel, after all.

As I’m typing this I am sitting in the smoke filled bar listening to drunk and probably high people laugh talk etc.,  Not necessarily my scene but people watching Is great here.  People are eyeing my table seeing as I am by myself at a place for 5.  I am almost done researching my plans and route for tomorrow .  It includes canals, good coffee, museums, taking photos , yummy food and maybe a little smoking.. haha.  Good day no?  I guess we’ll see!

Broost! (cheers in dutch!)

Amsterdam. I wasn’t too keen on coming here when I got on the train this morning. I was gloomy for having to leave Paris, again.
Once I arrived and walked through central station, the ‘Dam met my gaze with twilight and wet glistening streets as snow fell but didn’t stick. In an instant I’m in love and so glad to be here. Aside from the BITING cold it met me with an “Echanté mon cherie”.
I checked into my hostel and felt everything to be ok. I had a lot of apprehension beforehand but I think my time here will be great.
I bundled up and stepped out to spend more time with Dam. I look forward to getting to know her better and that time begins now.

Today is Liz’s last day here.  We had to go get our luggage from Bretzys and we exchanged our week’s experiences.  They went to this thing called Secret Cinema in London.  It is a must.  My next European travel will be based around the next time this is done.

After unpacking and repacking Liz and I split ways to do errands and explore.  I am leaving for Amsterdam tomorrow and tonight we celebrated the Chefs birthday at the Frenchies place.   I took my luggage to the chef and poets place.  They were kind to offer to store my things and I packed a small bag and took things I won’t miss if they get stolen since I will be staying in a hostel.   I was starving after my trek with my luggage so the chef and I grabbed an early dinner and wandered around his neighborhood of Place de Clichy on the edge of Monmartre in the 17^th.  I bought flowers for the frenchie since she was hosting the party.  Red Rononculas cought my eye and I thought they suited her well.  I parted ways with the Chef and walked through Montemartre.  Past the fabric shops and the while taking photos of the Sacre Couer as my fingers froze over.  Back at our place Liz and I finished the last of our travel prep for the next morning already knowing that the French party late and hard.  We donned our red lips and walked the three blocks to the metro Chateau Rouge to take the 4 towards Porte d’Orleans.  At Gare de l’est we popped on the 5 towards Place d’Italie and got off at Richard Lenoire.  The night was brisk and the walk to Amel’s was thankfully short.  6 flights of stairs later we were met with a rooftop view of the city in the quaint and cozy French apartment.  Lots of wine, cheese and meats of course.  Potato chips too because after all we are not bourgeois.   Tasted a bottle of wine that cost over 100 euro. It was great.  But not amazing.

The last metro is at 12:45am.  That is about the time the guitar came out and we cabbed it home at about 2am.

The Dam tomorrow. Tonight, sleep.

We tackled Montmarte this morning since it was right out our doorsteps.  We light candles inside the Sacrecouer. What or who for I’m not sure. I feel it was more of a recognition of things outside of my control and understanding.  We made our way over to La Marias again and wandered around that part of town a bit more before tackling the Pompiduo for more art and inspiration.
Meltdowns are a part of life and probably a huge part of being female. haha…  Just allow yourself to be in the moment when it arrives and know it will soon leave again.

Ended the night with a bang at Spoken Word. So so so good.  A treat. I feel that I am spoiled with talent here that even if I were to look this sort of thing up back at home I would just be disappointed. Soak it up I shall while I can and perhaps some may tide me over longer than I think.

What makes good work?  When rules meet musical notes.  Something that knows freedom and dances upon it and yet still plays by the laws that created it.  It is both pushing and pulling.. giving and taking. Balanced.