Oh Paris and The Faux Pas of Americains (Started November 15th, 2015)

Disclaimer: I started this piece after patiently waiting. I didn't want to fall into any cliched viewpoint or politically incorrect trap. Sadly, the French flag takeover of Facebook and all social media thereafter drove me into a frenzy. I never published it in fear of a backlash. So now that the year is over and everyone is now holding a light saber instead of being superimposed into a translucent French flag - I'll post.


I feel awful about Paris. I even shed tears. However, I have zero alliance to Paris. Let me elaborate. I've visited for a few days and hours. I've been to all the places that those who have never been hold dear. I generally didn't like Paris and I don't long for it as I do other parts of France. Here's the thing… I find it very hard to believe that terrorism affects places that don't seem like targets. I have to repeatedly ask myself why. This sort of correlates with why does God "take" people and why are we even here. Seriously, why did two towers full of people have to come down? And the even bigger question is why did we have to replace those towers with one bigger, stronger and taller?  I traveled through cities that were occupied by Hitler, bombed, flooded, engulfed in flames and or faced terrorist acts. There was never any evidence. There were no plaques. No monuments. No substitutions. Not even replacements. Things were simply restored to their original glory. Atocha. King's Crossing. Nantes. Only museums, history books, Wikipedia and those that lived through it could ever tell. We, America, are the only country who experiences disasters, wars and terror and take it in a completely different direction. We avenge our flags (the American flag, the Tea Party flag, the Confederate flag), our buildings, our landmarks but never our own people. I never wept for the Eiffel tower or for the French flag. I cried for the loss of lives. France was remarkable in the sense that they immediately wanted to avenge their people. They don't care for prayers, towers or principles. They countered same day. I wish I could say the same for us.

Forgiveness

It has been about a month since I've posted and I've been itching to say something. However, I thought it was best to meld into life as it was and see if I could juggle this and that and everything in between. I have been doing everything different. Christmas was … intimate. New Years was … casual. I kept the tree up until the second week of January. I started working just a few weeks ago. I take the bus versus drive the car. I invite people over for drinks. I let people see me without makeup. I spend my off days organizing my place and trying new restaurants. It is so different being normal again. I've been dating. I've been doing laundry. I've been baking. All through this, in the back of my mind …

I am still hurt.

Now I don't do resolutions. I come up with a word for the year and let it center me. These past few years my word choices have been too spot on. Last year I just let go of the concept because I feared what would come of it. Like I mentioned this holiday season was strange. It was so informal. It was long. It was too perfect. I simply forgot. But when someone reminded me of this hurt that I've suppressed, they gave me my word for 2015. It is "forgiveness". This is a word I do not believe in. I do not practice. Yet I have dwelled on pain, resentment, regret and mistakes for almost two years now. They phrased it like this - I don't need to forgive her. I need to forgive myself for what I did and for what I am still doing. 

I am doing way too much.

So what exactly does this mean? For me? For the blog?

Well, I see a bright future ahead when I release myself from these feelings. When I let go of this failure and disappointment. When I can move past the violation and the distrust. I strongly believe everything I learned will show itself. I left here a girl and came back a woman. Who can I hold responsible for this transformation? That bitch I made a mistake in traveling with. I forgive myself for making that mistake. I am letting go of the emotions that came with making that mistake. I no longer feel guilty about my choices. I can see the reward. Not only am I better person but she will learn too.  Someday what she learned will show itself as well. If I forgive myself, my vision will be clear, so I can see when that happens. 

forgive |fərˈgiv|verb ( past forgave ; past participle forgiven ) [ with obj. ]stop feeling angry or resentful toward (someone) for an offense, flaw, or mistake: I don't think I'll ever forgive David for the way he treated her.• (usu. be forgiven) stop feeling angry or resentful toward someone for (an offense, flaw, or mistake): they are not going to pat my head and say all isforgiven | [ no obj. ] : he was not a man who found it easy to forgive and forget.• cancel (a debt): he proposed that their debts should be forgiven.• used in polite expressions as a request to excuse or regard indulgently one's foibles, ignorance, or impoliteness: you will have to forgive my suspicious mind.PHRASESone could (or may ) be forgiven it would be understandable (if one mistakenly did a particular thing): the arrangements are so complex that you could be forgiven for feeling confused.DERIVATIVESforgiver nounORIGIN Old English forgiefan, of Germanic origin, related to Dutch vergevenand German vergeben, and ultimately to for- and give.

I am spending 2015 learning how to forgive. Happy New Year. Let's move on.

Pieces of The Sistine Chapel

After leaving St.Peter's square we were covered in water and ready to make the short journey around the city walls. We were going to call it a day but I thought it was best we do it all including the Vatican museums. By now it was around 2pm and they all would be closing within the next three hours. We approached it like other museums knowing we may not have time to see everything but started big and worked our way back down. We honestly didn't see much art or sculpture and spent most of the afternoon on a journey to The Sistine Chapel. I say journey because it is not a one stop shop. You must enter the main museum and walk past most exhibitions to get to the chapel. At some points we were outside making the trek and cutting clear through the Vatican City. I can easily say I felt mislead by the all the fanfare and expected to be disappointed much like seeing the Mona Lisa. Instead once there everything slowed a bit and it was a very intimate viewing of an amazing space. Sadly what we saw was not to be discussed and we were not allowed to take any photographs. There were many that chose to take chances ruining it for others. Today the chapel is nearing closed invitations for viewing only because too much traffic is ruining the structure. So as put off as I was about the experience of seeing it, I am one of the lucky ones. I can't share a lot of insight on what I saw that day but I did do this…

The Vatican - The Good, The Bad, The Evil and The Better

It is duly noted I was not having the best day when it came to going to The Vatican. After all that happened I'd lost all faith. However, this was the one thing we discussed and planned. It was no longer about the train incident. It was more about this is the only day we can do this. I'd already wasted a lot of time in the morning. There is a lot of preparation in going to Vatican City. You have to be well dressed. You have to have your camera and phone all ready. You have to have money preferably cash. Actually, take cash! You have to be ready to receive the gift of going. The reality is it isn't just some tourist site. This is an international place of worship. This is a place people make great sacrifices to get to. While we were discussing the Roma pass versus normal entry fees someone was begging or fundraising to just get close. We were upset knowing that we may not be able to everything and some people just want to be as close as they can even if they see nothing.

7:30am 7/25/2013 Renfre 730 222 Passengers 79 Dead

I don't even know where to begin. I guess it started with my arrival in Europe. I'd like to think there are young kids that come from land locked rural towns. They eventually escape their surroundings via the train and travel far off to a big city like New York. From there they may take their first subway ride to get to the airport for their first plane ride. They may have a layover in Boston or someplace exciting to them. Then they make the grand voyage over the Atlantic to the United Kingdom. From there they take the cheapest route through the English Channel via train. Once in Europe proper they continue boarding these trains to and from. They grow used to the speed, convenience and become travelers in their own right. Then someday they return to their hometowns via slower, uglier trains to tell their story. There is a privilege in riding Europe's fleet of futuristic, high-speed trains. The unimaginable feat of going anywhere in no time. The beauty of high end stations and accompaniments. The scenery so far from blue mountains and amber grain. The honesty of it all. And then….