Cedar Rapids

There's a lot to be said for midwest American friendliness; their greetings and cheerful helpfulness were enough to make my morning at the dentist positively delightful and a trip to the grocery store quite shocking after being greeted by five smiling employees. My France-informed Vancouverness almost made me recoil, raise my eyebrow and pose, "Why on earth are you talking to me?" before I quickly eased in to the warmth of public interaction. My most frustrating encounter was post-customs Chicago where a fat, middle-aged man was harassing my newest Bulgarian friend by yelling at her while she struggled with her baggage cart. A bit embarrassed, I said to him, "Sir, she doesn't speak any English" to which he responded, "Well if I came to a foreign country I'd learn to speak the language!" Sure he would. I mused up a number of cutting, witty insults in English and French that part of me itched to have said as I navigated my way to my next flight. Arrogant xenophobe...

The lush oak and maple trees and the sprawling green lawns in front of turn-of-the-century houses look so quintessentially American. The solidity of it all almost makes me wish I was staying to fly kites, take bike rides and light fireworks as my imaginings dictate that an idyllic American summer would entail. My mother's been out digging and replanting the patio garden and soon the pots will be overflowing with colour and the basil, dill and rosemary growing against the muraled  garage wall. The first real thunder storm has been threatening for weeks and I would love to be here for the rumbling downpour. My spacious room even strikes me as comfortably opulent between the dark wooden furnishings and my fluffy down comforter. 

The best part of my time home was catching up with a few friends. I liked going out or having people in- going away is always a reminder of who you can call when you get back. I was struck by how unique each person was and how each friendship had a characteristic dynamic unto itself. This made me glad as I realized that no friend will ever be a replacement for someone else as much their own distinct person that I can enjoy for who they individually are. I find it remarkable that we can have such distinct relationships. I've sometimes felt over-saturated in self-esteem shlop about how "special and unique" each of us is, but I feel like this was manifested in a fresh new way that I was somehow given lens to see and believe.  The attitudes of some of my friends here made me feel cared for in a round, stabilizing sort way, something securely woven to fall back in to. It did me' heart good. 

Today I fly to Vancouver. First to Dallas, my first touchdown in Texas!, and then home to my country, o Canada. It always feels good to be back and set foot on the soil where I was born. I'm getting tingly just thinking about it... Any Canadians to say, "Ay?" (As oppose to nay... this is in fact, a pun.) 

Family and Friends - Fragility and Fortitude

I'm writing from a vine covered stoney terrace, the tiny private garden in the the middle of the bedroom suites where I'm staying in Laurmarin. In addition to the curious number of cats ands artists' studios, we may be staying in one of the most beautiful regions of France imaginable from the rocky small mountains, the quaint village streets, the olive groves and the rose bushes with glorious colour and size. I've actually invited myself in to the studio apartment of my parents having left Aix a few days early, and I am now the live in daughter and chef while they explore the surrounding countryside. I myself am more than happy to hang back and write and relax.

I don't quite know where to begin in my reflections. I said goodbye to Aix with ever dawning realization of how I'm saying goodbye to all things French and a life and lifestyle that have suited me quite nicely and easily. Life here has been relaxed and undemanding on many counts and it would surprise me if I have such an extended period of ambling repose any time again in the years to come. I learned a lot about relationships- what's required and sometimes what's not, how it's best to be myself and how to work and apologize when myself isn't enough. How friendships need to be trusted and the importance of communication and forgiveness. The time here near the end has been particularly forming as I've had to come to terms with how I can't control or even change how people feel. Sometimes my best won't be enough and I have to juggle appropriate humility while also acknowledging that others can choose and act as well. If I could choose, I would always be exactly what everyone needed and wanted of me... it seems so obvious, but I often struggle to come to terms with the fact that I can never be perfect for anyone and can not make such a demand on myself. I regret announcing this to you all and dash any illusions you may have had of my magical prowess. Better that we all acknowledge this now then all be disappointed later... (sarcasm, sarcasm). 

Mistakes or mere inadequacy can make me feel like such a failure and I've had to constantly negotiate appropriate personal responsibility. These last weeks in particular have been hard practice in learning to be vulnerable but also when to refortify and be the strong woman with removal and bearing. Sometimes I need to admit when I've been hurt and other times I need to step back and remove myself from caring too much. Too much aloofness removes us from the joys of friendship and too much sensitivity runs us over. 

I've realized too that loving people can happen despite all disagreements and differences and it somehow sneaks in to the fabric of living without never quite realizing when it arrived. We find ourselves loving, laughing, caring and crying in ways we'd never expect and changing us more that we sometimes know. I hate to just say "it hasn't been easy" living with Véronique because it would demean all the good aspects of our life together and the teasing and sincerity shared over the dinner table and in the kitchen. She was generous and dramatic beyond measure, and I'll never know a woman like her so intimately again. In the same way with my room mate Jenna, to just note how much our friendship has taught me would miss the heart of the enduring affection between us that's been through train traveling, crazy drama, boring endless hours, and french reflection. I never could have guessed or known to ask for the friendships I formed in France, but they were rich beyond measure and maybe even exactly what I needed. 

I now find myself with my parents, reminded of familial stability that can be there when you need them most but also separate people from who I am and become. I feel older with them than I use to- I love an appreciate them as ever but am also okay with having my own life that takes me in other directions. I feel more myself than ever: good, bad, weaknesses and strengths, this "self-discovery" of youth is hardly the cliché process I expected as much as the inevitable.  

The months to Come

Well dear Reader near and far our time in France is drawing to a close. I realized today while slowly climbing the cote, our hill, in the hot afternoon sun- our laborious daily trek up to the apartment from the city- that a week from this Sunday I'll be home in our house and my summer madness waiting just out the door. While life is still rolling with its slow, peaceful pace, I almost hate to mention this next new stage of (good!) business of all my most recent plottings. But, because I can't stop myself and planning gives me peace of mine, this is how the future in all its untelling facts will unfold:

These next two weeks I get to spend delightfully filled with people presence. A friend from A Rocha will be arriving in a couple days and we can tromp around Aix while I play host to all the delights and unusual happenings of our apartment. My parents arrive not long after and besides the pure parent-craving happiness of seeing them, we should have some good traveling together in our rented car out to the sights and smells of Provence. Last hours will be spent with Veronique and Jenna and I'll likely disappear before we know what hit us.
I return to Cedar Rapids, Iowa for 10 days where I hope to unpack and repack for my summer job, august backpacking, and a september move to Vancouver. I got hired as a headcook for a tree-planting company so I'll also likely be doing a last minute scramble of paper work and menu planning. ALSO, there are a few friends that I have so want to see but sadly a pathetic amount of time to share. Once again I must zoom of in a less than heroic way saying, "I'll be back..."
I fly to Vancouver May 29th where I'll crash with my brothers for a few days and do more catching up with friends there. On the couch, in the community house, looking forward to it immensely.
June 2nd, leaving for planting camp via greyhound in to the mysterious northern unknown. Little sleep, good money, deteriorating hygiene, strange life all around...
July 25th, wrap up the planting contracts and likely feeling ready to say, "Get me the $^%# $%#*# out of here!" (planting camp will teach me how to swear more audibly.)
Unward through August I'll be somewhere in the British Columbian mountains likely backpacking, maybe volunteering at Crow for a time, camping, wandering, I don't really know in fact.
September 2nd- Start of a suite-lease with my mum in Vancouver! I'll be moving out there for the fall with plots of taking swimming lessons at the pool, eating dinners with friends, finding a respectable job (maybe unpaid) to boost my resume, finding a fun but likely less-than-luadible paying job, reading books that please and challenge me and being social, reflective and human all around.
I'm actually very happy and excited about everything to come and even looking forward to diving back in to university oh-so-seriously whenever I return.

See, plan-sharing so quickly takes you out of the moment and France. No good, for here is where I am. But now that it's out there, we can forget it and keep on living.

Let's say more on France to Come.