poems are cool

I'm supposed to be studying for my oral exam tomorrow.  But, I really want to share a poem with you; one that is part of the list of texts I may have to analyze in front of my teacher.  I really hope I get it, because I connected so much with it while I was reading.  Yeah, it's in French, and I think that's the way it should remain, but I'll try to find some sort of translation for all of you non-speakers out there.  

Le Pont Mirabeau par Guillaume Apollinaire (1880-1918)

Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine 

Et nos amours 

Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne 

La joie venait toujours après la peine

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure 

Les jours s'en vont je demeure 

Les mains dans les mains restons face à face 

Tandis que sous

Le pont de nos bras passe 

Des éternels regards londre si lasse 

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure 

Les jours s'en vont je demeure 

L'amour s'en va comme cette eau courante 

L'amour s'en va 

Comme la vie est lente

Et comme l'Espérance est violente

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure 

Les jours s'en vont je demeure 

Passent les jours et passent les semaines 

Ni temps passé

Ni les amours reviennent 

Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine 

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure 

Les jours s'en vont je demeure

I think this poem has a very nostalgic quality to it, for those of us, well, for anyone really, who has lived somewhere, and who has had to leave prematurely, or without really wanting to leave.  I know it has this "love story" theme running through it, but taking that out.  Well, hell, why take it out?  There's so much love in the hood, here.  So yeah, time passes, people come and go, love comes and goes, and he keeps saying, "je demeure," or "i remain."  Remain locked in this time, guarding a certain feeling, love; but love, I think love is the most fleeting of feelings.  I think we try so hard to capture it, and once we do, we try so hard to keep it within us, but it slips away and again, we remain.  Do we realize when it has left us?  Or do we keep holding on to the memories, hoping that the memories will have will bring back the same feelings?  

I dont know.  OH.  I just realized I didn't get a translation.  Ok, go find on.  I know you can.  Do it.  DO IT.  

LOVE (because I have a lot of it to offer), Ranna 

The Surprise

I get a text last monday from thom.  "It's my adopted birthday tomorrow, come meet me out for an early dinner and drinks." 

How could I ever say no?  Thom is my great friend and I want to spend his birthday, adopted or not, with him. 

"I will be there."  I text back.  

I talk to Yasna online that night.  

"So tomorrow is Thom's adopted birthday."

"He's adopted?"

"I don't know, I think he just decided it was his birthday.  I guess?  I dont know." 

We start talking about trees.  

Salma babysits on Tuesday.  Her phone is not charged so I give her mine.  I can't get in touch with anyone.  Thom calls her 9 times.  Finally she gives him her own number and he calls.  I pick up.

"Here are the details. "  [Details]

"OK, sure cool." 

"Cool?  Sure?  No, you're supposed to say you're so excited, that you cant wait, you're supposed to sing for me."  He starts singing.

"Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to meeee. Today is the day I was separated from my druggie parents.  Happy birthday to meeeee." 

Awkward pause.  

"OK.  Cool, I'll sing to you tonight." 

So, he's adopted.  I wish I had known.  

I meet Marion at Hotel de Ville at 8:00.  I'm late, as usual.  We walk to a restaurant in the Marais.  We have flowers.

"Hey, sooo did you know Thom was adopted?" 

She looks at me, typical Marion look, "You didn't know?"  

We keep walking.

Outside of the restaurant.  We look up and see Thom sitting at a table.  He smiles, waves, and walks down to greet us. 

"So, who's coming tonight?"

"Just me, Thomas, you guys, and one of my Polish friends." 

I'm confused.  I always imagined Thom's birthday being a rather large affair.  Simple?  Really?  

We walk in and up the stairs.  Thomas stands up and greets us.  We kiss twice on the cheek and sit down.  I notice Thomas is drinking a martini and Thom is drinking a coffee...and beer.  Gross.  Really?  Coffee and beer?  Really?  

Chatting begins.  Chat.  Chat.  Chat.  Chat.  He extends his hands.  Marion and I hold one each. 

This is weird, kind of.

"My bitches are all back with me"

"Hi guys." 

My stomach fell to the ground.  Hey.  I know that voice.  

It all happened in a sort of slow motion.  Marion and I both looked back to see who was talking.

When I saw Yasna I thought it was all in my imagination-that she wasn't real.  And then I looked at Marion's face, who look equally as confused and shocked and it hit me like a bullet.  

I got up and walked away with my hand over my mouth.  "No f**king way!!!!!!!!"  

Marion was still looking at her and Yasna was laughing hysterically.  They hugged.  No.  Wait.  Whattttttttttttttttttt??  

"What the hell are you doing here?"  Marion yelled.  

"I don't know I just decided to come back to Paris for a week and surprise you guys."  

Surprise.  Yeah, you could say I was surprised.  

I went in to hug her still not fully sure if she was real or if I was having a really vivid dream.  Nooo.  This cant be real, as I hugged her.  I talked to her last night.  No wait, I talked to her online this afternoon!

"Wait...you were in Paris today when we spoke???" 

Evil laugh

"You bitch!!!!!!!"  

As we sat down and [sort of] calmed ourselves the story about her surprise visit kept unveiling.  Little details about the day and the weeks prior finally made more sense.  And then it hit me...

"Thom.  Are you actually adopted???"  

Laughter.

"No.  But wasn't it a good story?"

One of the best weeks of my life.  And today we go to Sverige (did you know it's pronounced, Sve-ri-yeh?  Fun fact).  

Be gholeh mamanam, "Shomah dohtah az hamdigeh khasteh nashodin hanooz?" 

Yeah.  Not so much.  

I'll update when we come back.  Cheers. 

the one where ranna *tries*

What are we doing and what have we done?  I've avoided writing a blog post because the amount of places we have traveled to in the last few weeks is quite overwhelming.  Writing about it seems frightening.  Should I write out every detail?  Should I place more emphasis on one place and not another? 

Every city has had its own unique charms.  Little details that are etched forever in my brain.  How can I write about them all without boring my audience to death.  What is significant to me, will not necessarily be significant to you, dear reader.  

Therefore, I have decided not to write about the past four weeks at all.  Skip them and start anew.  Why?  Because I can.  Because I want to.  Because this way, I don't have to place any judgement on where we have gone.  The observations I made are in my head, and that is where they will stay. 

For those of you who are curious, however, about where we went, I will tell you this much: 

Italia--Roma; Sabaudia; Napoli 

Deutschland--Berlin; München 

Czechia--Praha

Österreich--Vienne

There.  That's that.  

So whats on the schedule now?  Time is moving so quickly--I'm not ready for all of this to be over.  And yet, I'm so excited or the plans we have set up.  

Next week, Salma, Courtney and I are headed to Svedala, Sverige to visit our very own Yasna for a week.  Our return to Pareeeee marks the departure of Courtney (*tear*).  School ends two weeks after--at which point I must bid my adieus to Madame Amsellem (this time for real) and Sarah Burke (gasp, you too, Sarah!).  

AND THEN, for anyone who I have not already told: rather than returning to the United States during the first week of June, Salma and I have extended our trip to the first week of July.  Back to Mason, we will go then for lovely summer classes.  

We will be hanging out in Paris for a couple of weeks.  Hit the beach au bord de la Seine, and then jump on a plane to go to Copenhagen where we will attend Scandinavia's (and I think one of Europes) biggest music festival, Roskilde, http://www.roskilde-festival.dk/.  It's basically a huge equivalent to Woodstock (without the fires, crossing fingers now).  For a list of musicians playing, check the website.

We were pretty surprised that the plan to go to the festival actually went through.  i think its going to be the perfect end to the perfect year.  

But, who really wants to think about the end?  Not me.  for now, I will sit back--actually, I will probably lie back on the grass at Luxembourg, and relax, take in the beautiful weather.  Maybe I'll even eat a gelato or two.  

Because, as my mother likes to say, I'm living in an alternate reality--an imaginary, perfect life--and I'm going to hold on to it for as long as I can.

Take that, real life.  

SIH

Salma is here!  

She arrived safely and soundly yesterday at 11:50 AM.  I was late (comme d'habitude) to pick her up.  It wasn't my fault though, first I got stopped by RATP security because I didn't buy the special ticket to go to Charles de Gaulle Airport.  I feigned innocence by speaking English (love that you can do that), apologized profusely and they let me go...granted, I smiled coyly and batted my eyelashes--that may have had something to do with it too :)  And then I was stuck at Gare de Nord for 15 minutes...mètro, tu me soulle, quoiiiiiiiii.

Anyway, we passed a lovely day.  OH OH.  I'm losing my English speaking skills.  I hang out with Marion so much that I've begun to say things that she would say....

"We passed a lovely day."  "On a passé une bonne journée" 

"Do you want to take a coffee?"  "Tu veux prendre un café" 

My English grammar is going down to the ground.  How irrelevant. 

So, we walked around; I took her to café Parvis (yas, love you, jaat khalli), and I made her ultra-tired so that she would sleep well that night.  On our way back home in the metro we had quite a scare when a drunk woman stumbled passed us and was waiting for the metro to arrive but right near the edge of the platform.  She couldn't stand up straight and she was freaking us out.  I thought, "this woman is going to fall down any second now and its going to be bye bye random French woman." 

I went up to her and asked her if she was alright.

yeah, yeah, I worked all day and now I am a little drunk

Madame, you should be a little more careful, do you want to sit down?  

That's nice of you, but I'm ok.  Where are you from?

The United States 

I am Moroccan but I've lived here all of my life.  Here in France, it is different than the United States, people can do things like this.  We drink.  No one asks us if we are alright or that we should be more careful.

Nervous smile...where is she going with this?

Thank you, it's very nice of you.  What are you doing in Paris?

Actually, I live here and study.

Where do you live?

The 13th.

Where in the 13th?

Near Place d'Italie.  

OHhhhhh, my best friend lives there.  I'm going to go visit her right now.  See, I have more wine in my purse.  But its very nice of you to ask me if I'm alright.  Very nice...

Metro arrives.

I like to say I saved her life.  Salma says, "Ranna, idiot, she was capable without you."  

Today we went my friend Courtney's house for brunch...OH, so we finally had daylight savings, only neither my phone or my television configured automatically, so I was late and we didnt wake up.  We started the day off late.  

But, we had french toast and strawberries.  And then we went to Montmartre and sat in at Mass at the Sacre Coeur.  

The coolest was that I understood the sermon.  I mean, I spent more time thinking about how it was cool that I understood to REALLY understand (you know what I'm saying?).  

I hope Salma hit it off with Courtney and Marion.  I hope she likes them because...well, she's going to be spending a lot of time with them.  She better like them, is all I'm saying.  :) 

Tonight we are having a "Welcome to Paris" party for her with pizza and birthday cake...because Marion wants to pretend its her birthday tonight.  I dont know...Oh man, I'm late.  I have to go order pizza.  And buy candles.  I hope people arrive later than I told them to arrive.  

WHATS WRONG WITH ME?  I'm always late these days. 

These blog posts are going downhill.  Maybe if I actually DID something....OK BYE. 

the one where ranna acts melancholy

i dont know why this is so hard.  the saying goodbye process.  its beginning.  once one person leaves, the others slowly follow suit.  we all knew it was going to arrive eventually.  just not this fast.  and no one expected for it to be this hard.  no one was supposed to get attached.  its a rule, i think.  it should be a rule.  there should be rules about these sorts of things.  rules so that we can live and love and let go.  and then do it all over again.  but as one person leaves, we lose a little bit of ourselves.  the dynamic is not the same.  there is an empty space where there was once an amazing being.  a silence where there was a laugh.  a void where there was once a friend.  we are here for a short time.  every second of every day counts.  and when every second of every day counts, we dont live half-assedly (made up word of the day).  we live with our all.  we put every strength that we have into all of our encounters, all of our experiences.  so no wonder when we are happy, we are the happiest people in the world.  and when we're sad, nothing can pacify our gloom.  no wonder. 

but, its a new day.  for goodness sake, its a new year (norooz mobarak)!  we take the bad just as much as we take the good and we learn and we grow.  

whaat? 

veejh

My friend Melody came to Paris this week for a visit.  it was her first time visiting the city so it was a good time showing her around, taking her to visit all the different areas.

I wanted to take her bike riding, but apparently Mel doesn't like two things: bikes and horses.  

Reflect 

So anway, what didnt we do?  Every day was fun-filled and fabulous.  oh la la.  

We even got sick together.  Thursday night when we got home from dinner I became feverish and ill and Mel couldn't stop coughing.  We spent the night practically dying together.  There were times when I would be like, "Mel, khoobi?  Hasti?"  and vice versa.  At one point she was like, "Ranna, berim."  "Koja berim, Melody?"  "Khooneh.  Mamanamo mikham."  "Midoonam.  Soon enough." 

Yeah, it was miserable.  Turns out I have strep throat and I'm pretty sure she'll get it sometime in the next few days.  

I told her it was mental, and that if she told herself she wasnt going to get sick she wouldnt get sick.  To which she replied,"

"Boro gom sho to-am ba een mental-et.  Hamechi mental-eh barat!"  that was funny.

Friday was spent with Melody and I in bed, until she (bless her heart) chose to play mommy and took care of me.  Her and Yasna.  Yasna brought soup and Mel shared her pharmaceutical knowledge with me and told me which pills to pop at what hour. 

I mean, considering I was practically dying and Melody had to stay home most of the day (until she went shopping for a few hours with Yasna) it was a pretty funny experience.  Mel looked at it from the positive angle...."How many times can you say we've been sick together in Paris."  haha....

We even had a doctor pay a house call at 11:3o pm.  That was kind of cool.  We just called this company and they sent over a doctor who checked out my throat and wrote me a prescription.  Granted, it was sort of expensive, since I'm the idiot who chose not to get insurance, but still, it's not something you see in the US.

So.  She ate what she had to eat.  She saw what she had to see.  But in the middle of all the generic things, we had some of the most bizarre, random, hilarious, experiences I've had in Paris.  I really hope she had fun.  

Love, Ranna 

PS. My sabzeh is officially NOT growing--chikar konam? 

Spring Cleaning

Dear friends and family,

Each morning when I wake up and raise my blinds, I am greeted by the strong sun beating down into my room.  It's not too warm, not too cold, all you need is a light jacket... and its not even April 17...

Everyone is out on the streets enjoying this while they can because who knows what the weather will be like tomorrow... Paris may pull a Virginia and go blizzard on us.  Omg I would be so depressed. 

Yesterday after class I was walking around the school area like a zombie and I stumbled across this amazing juice bar.  You choose any kind of fresh fruit or vegetable you want, and they juice it for you on the spot.  It's so tasty.  It boosted my energy level too... although, I'm pretty sure the lack of energy and the sudden onset of terrible stomachaches was coming from a lack of the B12 vitamin/folic acid, because of the changes in my diet.  No meat, dairy, etc...  don't worry, I went to the natural food store and stocked up on my vitamins.  Why are the tablets so big? 

So anyway, today I went to the juice bar again with Yasna and my friend Lulie, this ultra-cool Mexican-American who's lived in France for a while.  She's applying to law school here, and is so fluent in French, its not even funny.  As we were drinking our juice Lulie mentioned how it would be cool to ride the "Velibs" (Velo-libres AKA free bikes) from where we were to the Eiffel Tower, riding by the Seine.  

So basically heres the deal, the Velib stands are all over Paris, and you pick a bike up from one stand, ride around for as long as you want, they charge your credit card, but only for as long as you have the bike, other than that, its like 1euro an hour up to 4 hours, then it just stays at 4euro.  I never understood how they kept people from stealing bikes--but they basically keep a hold of 150euro until you give the bike back...but if someone really wanted a bike, I guess they could keep it.... eh, who does that? 

Anyway we started riding the bikes, and it was so much fun... I only almost died like 2 times... No, I joke, I joke.  But, you definitely have to be careful and completely aware of whats going on around you (sorry Salma, that means no bike for you) otherwise you will get run over by a car or a motorcycle.  But, I did notice how equipped Paris is for their bike transportation system.  The roads all have bike paths, and there are signs everywhere showing the bikers where to go.

Plus, all the bikes have bells and baskets.  It's so cute.  

Right now, I'm going to figure out what the easiest path is for me to ride from my house to school, or back, because it's such good exercise, plus, it's a lot of fun.  So much fun. 

My friend Melody is coming into town on Saturday, and if she's up for it, I'm thinking about showing her around the city via Velib.  She'll get to see so much.  Good idea, Ranna.  Thanks, Parsa.  

Alright, in other news, I spent all of Sunday heavily cleaning my apartment--I made poor Yasna help me out, haha.  But, you know, it was March 1, I needed to make my apartment clean for Norooz. 

I've started to set up a 7sin.  Well, I have sombol, seeb, serkeh, the beginnings of sabzeh (only, I have little faith that it will work).  I need to go to the Iranian grocery store, rather, I need to figure out if there is an Iranian grocery store, to go and by somakh and...what am I missing?  sombol, seeb, serkeh, sabzeh, somakh...oh, sekeh...and..is it called senjeh?  hmm, is that what its called?  

Well anyway, yeah, so 7sin in Paris, so ballin. 

Love, Ranna