A 7.50 euro lesson

Almost all of my purses have a metro pass pocket located on the back side of the purse. It's pretty handy because you don't even have to take the pass out. You just press your purse up to the machine, and it can scan through the leather.

I tend to change my purse every day to match whatever outfit I am wearing. (Yes, I am that girly.) I keep my purse pretty tidy, so it's not that hard of a task. I move the metro pass from its pocket in the former purse to today's purse. I move my wallet, my girl-scout/be-prepared bag, my pens, my fan or umbrella (depending on the weather), and my reusable grocery sack. No problem.

Well, this morning, I had a problem. The metro pass pocket was half unzipped...and the metro pass was not in it. I looked around the house very quickly, and then in frustration thought, "Someone must have pick-pocketed me and took it out...thus, the half-unzipped pocket." I grabbed my passport and an extra photo (the two necessary items needed to get anything done in France), and ran out the door, hoping that getting a replacement pass would not (a) break my bank and (b) take too much time.

At the metro office, they kindly looked up for me whether it had be returned...it had not. So the woman informed me that I just needed to go to the machine outside, click a certain button, pay, and bring the slip back in. Then, she'd give me my new pass.

Since in France it must be customary to carry a minimum of 10 euros of coins with you at any given time, I began shelling the coins into the machine. 7.50 worth of coins. When I'd gotten 7 euros in, and had only 50 cents left to go, my 50 cent piece rolled back out to the bottom. I picked it up and immediately dropped it back in...and it rolled back out to the bottom. I looked in my wallet...and saw that I only had 40 cents left.

Suddenly there were two gypsy children by my side, ready to help me. Allow me to insert a back story here, because I am learning that reactions to certain things are quite often connected to pas experiences.

Same situation, only 1o years ago...I am standing at a ticket vending machine at a train station in Portugal, and a gypsy child appears. When I do not give them money, they proceed to try to rob me of my change in the bottom of the machine. And then, when I politely, gently push them away from the machine and tell them "No," they yelled a curse at me. Not a cuss word. A curse. And while I do believe that the Spirit of Christ in me protects me from curses...I do not trust gypsy children hanging around me when I am handling cash at a machine.

So there I was, having paid 95% of my ticket, with a non-functioning 50 cent piece and a gypsy child at my side. She reached into the machine, grabbed my coin, and began scraping it against the machine. She then popped it in the machine and it rolled right back down to the bottom. As I tried to tell her thank you, the operation timed out, and all my money began rolling back to the bottom. I told both the kids thank you, and gently put my whole body between them and the machine while I scooped all my change out.

I asked a man next to me if he could make an exchange of coins for me since the machine wasn't accepting my coin. He said, "Of course, in just one second." So I restarted my operation while he bought his ticket, and popped my 7.50 of coins into the machine. When I got to the fateful 50 cent piece, it went in fine...but one of the 1 euro coins rolled back out. FRUSTRATION. The gypsy child stepped back over, reached in, grabbed my coin, rubbed it against the machine, and put it in the coin slot. It went in...but the 50 cent piece rolled back out.

She reached in her pocket, pulled out her own 50 cent piece, and put it in. It worked, and the machine gave me my ticket. I looked at this sweet little gypsy child who was not trying to steal, not calling down curses, but just trying to help in hopes to earn a few coins in return. I looked down in my wallet, and pitifully apologized for only having 40 cents left to give her. She happily took it and thanked me.

Eating humble pie, I went back into the office and got my new pass to replace the lost one...which fell out of my pants pocket onto my bed as I was getting ready to do laundry tonight.

Paris at Midnight

When I found out a few months ago that I would spending the summer in Paris, I'll admit I had mixed feelings. I was ready to move out of the Wise's house and settle into my own home...in Marseille. Learning that I would be leaving the Wise's earlier than planned was good news, as was getting to spend a whole two months around the Superheroes in Paris. But...two more months in yet another place, still living out of a suitcase, away from Marseille, and...uggish sigh...Paris? At the time, not so good news.

When I left her in November 2008, I left her feeling burnt out on her. She rains alot. She's always crowded with too many people. (The city population is somewhere between 11-14 million, and add the 42 million tourists who come through each year, and well, that's alot of people.) She's bustling, pushy, stressed (or as the French say, "tiring" or "fatigant"). I had a headache for the entire two years I lived here because there was never, ever, at any time, quiet.

I would say that I have a love-hate relationship with Paris. I mean, it's Paris. Beautiful streets, buildings, bridges, parks, and the Seine. Everything is beautiful in Paris, everything. The museums are amazing, the food is amazing, the music is amazing, and there is always, always, always something fun to go do. She really can be enchanting, if you're in the right mood.

And so I decided this summer that I would focus on the love side of my love-hate relationship with Paris. I would allow her to get back in my good graces, and would not, under any circumstances, (including terrible weather that stole my summer away), leave for Marseille more frustrated with Paris than I was back in November 2008. That is why I systematically set out to have such a good time this summer, even if meant not getting much sleep. When I had a free moment from work, I'd go do something fun that I hadn't done before.

While out at the cinema at the park, Tusc told me of a movie I ought to go see, and exactly which theatre I ought to see it in. He said, "If you like Paris, you'll love this movie, and if you love Paris, this'll become one of your favorite movies ever." So I went to see Midnight in Paris at the Epée de Bois cinema on Rue Mouffetard. He was completely right.

One of the things I've always said about Paris is that I wonder what it was like during La Belle Epoque or during the Roaring 20's, or even during the Occupation. I wonder what it was like at its peak. I wonder what it was like without the extra 11 million people and the 42 million tourists. I suppose that Woody Allen wondered the same thing, because he made a movie about a guy who, just like me, would love to have seen it back then. The movie was more about who was in Paris at those times than what Paris looked like at those times, but I still enjoyed it.

Even more, I enjoyed what the main character discovered at the end. We tend to always want something we can't have. He wanted to know Paris in the 20's. The girl he met in Paris in the 20's wanted to know Paris in La Belle Epoque. He wanted that girl. His financée wanted another guy. He realized that we should want what we have. And so he stayed in Paris during his own time and enjoyed it...in the rain.

There are people who lament about wanting to enjoy my life in France because it seems prettier than their own, wherever they may be. I often lament about wanting to enjoy theirs...married with children. Who knew that Woody Allen could speak some truth into my life (and maybe someone else's who reads my blog, longing to be where I am instead of where they are) by reminding me to love where I am, even if it's in the rain?

And so I leave Paris for Marseille...content. Paris has returned to my good graces, and I love her once again. I don't look out at the rain and sigh that uggish sigh. I look forward to when I'll get to return to her again and be charmed by beauty that has wooed so many through the centuries. But for now, it's time to return to my beloved sunshine city of the south, Marseille.

And to finally, after 27 months, unpack my suitcases.