Paris, here I am!

April 2nd, 23:20hs - Sitting at Cafe El Rey...

Aca estoy en Paris... OOH LA LA!!!
Except for the French, I feel like I'm in Buenos Aires. It's kind of weird... From Canada to Germany and then to France, but I feel like I am where I started.

This is so beautiful!! I feel alive again!!! To finally be myself again. I really needed this and it couldn't have happened at a better time. It was now that I needed this space. i was beginning to feel claustrophobic inside my own head. Finally, no more thinking, no more over analyzing... Just walk, observe, learn... The last couple of days I consumed myself. I know that 75% of it was due to "that time of the month" and the hormones seem to control every bit of me. But I should not allow it to affect me THIS much. Now that it has passed, I can't really understand what the big deal was.

Funny thing... that last sentence made me think. I now realize that I created so much drama to myself, for no apparent reason. Why does getting the period fucks me up so much? I know that there must be an underlying issue, something that get's trigger every time my estrogen levels increase... but how I manage to make the feeling so intense, is still a mystery to me. I feel sorry for those around me during this time of the month. I believe that there's no need to involve so many people with my menstrual psychosis, even when doing so takes the load off my back of having to tolerate myself...

I'm here. The drama is now over, I'm happy and satisfied once more. I'm having an expresso and a "tarte aus pommes"... yes, that's my new language: frenchodoitch. I keep mixing the little German I know in all of my French sentences... It's hillarious! Ich m'appelle was? I get stuck suddenly and can't even speak Spanish. But it's part of the experience. I'm trying to train my brain to communicate in French, because I'm in Paris, when I just spent a whole month getting it to adapt to the German language. The poor thing is really confused...

Awww, this is so beautiful... I'm looking at the people who pass me by -I'm sitting outside. I'm a silent observer. A couple of hours ago, I went for a walk along the Seine River and all I did was observe what was going on around me, like a little kid, curious about every detail... hungry for more... I saw many couples, lots of young people, street musicians, boats, lights and turists. And watching it all, there it was... the most impressive Notre Dame. I have seen it in photographs, in art history books. I have seen it in postcards, in movies. I have read, heard and seen a lot of it, and for the first time, I was standing in front of it. There it was... right in front of my eyes. Mesmerizing, impressive, omnipotent... impossing itself over my humble being; because right there, I couldn't feel anything but humble. I couldn't have been more thankful. Thankful for the view, for my romantic dinner at "La Pirada", which now I realize it was the perfect place for me to seat and enjoy a dinner with myself in Paris. "La Pirada" -the crazy one in Spanish... HOW PERFECT! Like everything else. Once I get back to being "in tune", syncronizations are inevitable. Sometimes it feels like my life and the timing of events is actually being directed by some AMAZING, creative and talented director...

This chapter began on the train to Paris, just looking out the window, the landscape became my travcel companion. When I arrived to the station, Marcel was waiting for me, which I find a very nice gesture for someone who hardly knows me. He then came with me to my hostel, where I was greeted by a Spanish guy who made me a nice handwritten sign: Argentina 1 - Bolivia 6. Aghhhh!! But I loved the sense of humor, nevertheless... After leaving my back pack in the creepy locker room, Marcel and I went to his hostel to check if my reservation for the following two nights had gone through. Well... it had not. Luckily, they had one room left. Number one!

All right, here we go again. As I write his name, Marcel shows up... yes, I haven't had the chance to finish the story, so that my surprise to see him crossing the street at this very moment, makes sense... Around 8pm, after all the paperwork and a quick appetizer, we both went different ways. It's now 1am and as I write his name, I see him crossing the street in this direction... No, we haven't arranged to meet. And no, he doesn't know I'm here... It's just a "coincidence", which proves what I mentioned before... This is exactly what I mean when I write about PERFECT TIMING...