January 13, 2017

paris; part one.

The first time I visited Paris, it was three or four years ago, I can't remember. I was traveling with my mother from Italy, and I remember feeling enamoured with the whole city as I looked out the cab window on the way to our hotel. We stayed near Champs-Élysées, and I remember all the posh-looking, sharply-dressed French guys walking the streets (important) with their equally attractive French girlfriends (sadly) on their arms. I remember being annoyed and captivated at the same time when we went to visit the Eiffel Tower ("It's just a huge scrap of steel! But it's a great-looking scrap of steel, I give it that.").

The second time I visited Paris, it was November 26th last year. It was my first solo trip abroad, and it was kind of surreal to be living a 3-hour flight away from the city. I chose a slightly expensive flight just because it landed in Charles de Gaulle airport and I thought well, I've been to that airport once. It should be easy to navigate it, right? I was half excited, half terrified; I was at the airport four hours early because I was paranoid I would miss my flight because you see, I was meeting two close Tumblr friends in Paris. That was the sole reason this trip even happened.

Lies.

I would have made a Paris trip happen nonetheless because...Paris.

As it turned out, my flight was delayed for two hours and I arrived in Paris around 5.30 pm. Going into the city was horrible; I was tired from the long wait at the airport, more than a lot disoriented from the sudden Spanish to French transition in my new environment, and in a hurry to meet my friend Kristy at 6.00 pm.

In the train to Gare du Nord
When I got to Gare du Nord from CDG, the place was jam-packed with people and everyone was rushing. For some nonsensical reason, unlike normal Metros, the ticket machine in Gare du Nord isn't placed near the Metro security entrance thingy? So I spent almost twenty minutes trying to find the goddamn machine, and then after I got tired of walking in circles, I stopped a security personnel and asked him straight.

How Not to Get Lost #1: Take a photo of your stop
Long story short, I got my ticket, checked in my hotel, washed up, and met up with Kristy at Shakespeare and Company bookshop near Notre-Dame. We had dinner and nutella crepes afterwards, and it was really nice. I've known Kristy for a couple of years; both of us are big fan of Melina Marchetta. Did I mention that Kristy lives in Sydney, my ultimate dream city to visit? I got really jealous when she told me about strolling the streets and going to places mentioned in Marchetta.

I promised myself I'll do a Marchetta tour when I get to Sydney; that's like on the top of my bucket list right now, but I digress.

Alas, my camera's shit at nights so no display-worthy photos, but the Notre Dame at nights? Amazing. I missed it the first time I came to Paris (since I was there with my mother, we only spent time in the shopping streets and the Eiffel Tower--sad story).


Continuing with Part 2 - Paris for a day soon!




January 9, 2017

twenty seventeen.

Holy wow, it's a new year already!
New year, same me, because I'm a person who never learns shit My 2017 resolutions are pretty simple; 
  • drink water consistently,
  • don't sweat the small stuff,
  • give my best in everything I do,
  • ask for help when I need it

and of course, read and read and read. Maybe expand my horizons a bit this year; there are a lot of genres I haven't explored yet. 

I said this every year, honestly.

Anyway, 

I only have a few more weeks left in Barcelona (three, to be exact). I'm stressed out every time I think about it. This past 4 months have been more than a dream, and in a way a long vacation, and I'm so not ready to dive back into the world of research. I still have one year left in my Master's degree. One year. It'll no doubt go by quickly but for now...one year.

Jesus.

Today I dragged my lazy arse out to buy food because I literally had nothing to eat or cook with, but first I took a detour to my favourite neighbourhood, the Gothic Quarter. I had Chinese takeout in front of the Barcelona cathedral while contemplating my last days here (much sad), and on my way back I took a turn into an alley I've never been into and got out in the end of it to this:


The mural is made up of photo submissions describing "moments of freedom". I love the whole lot of it. It also has this quote on the plate that I found lovely:

The sound of a kiss is not as loud as that of a cannon, but its echo lasts a great deal longer.

As I stood there in front of the mural piece I thought about the number of times I've been in the area and never went down that alley until today, and I started feeling sad again for all the things I unknowingly missed.

Depressing, I know. 

It's a vicious cycle of sad I can't get out of.


I still need to write all that travel posts. 
Ugh, why am I so bad at blogging @ god-