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 

The one where Ranna talks about Arnold

I wake up, get dressed, make the bed, eat breakfast, fix my yoga bag, organize my school bag, put my Ipod into my ears, go outside, walk to the metro, pass the homeless man who asks, "vous avez une petite pièce," go down to the tracks, wait for my train, ride the train, get off at Place Monge, walk up Rue Mouffetard, go to class, sit in class, make Madame laugh, come out of class, decide not to go to phonetics, walk from Quartier Latin to Chatelet with Yasna, eat crudités sandwich, walk to Café Parvis...

...  And that's when my day begins.  

It's weird, I've made a routine for myself over the past two weeks.  In the mornings I do the same thing.  Every day is the same thing.  But the moment I sit at this café and wait for my yoga class, all routine is pushed aside, because every day is something new.  

There is nothing special about the café... actually, its quite normal.  The outside area is covered with a tarp, there are space heaters, people smoke cigarettes all around me.  The waiters don't take orders, they just come outside and tell you whether you speak French or English it doesn't matter, they just change the accent, "self service."  The coffee is good enough, and the bartender/barista is kind of cute.  

They don't mind how long we sit there, which I think is the biggest plus to this café.  Yasna and I get there around 1:30 every day and we sit at that café until I have to go to yoga at 4:30.  Seriously, we just sit there and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh.  Every day there is something new that we laugh about.

One day, there were some Iranians sitting in front of us and...well, I didnt think they were Iranian, and Yasna said for sure they were.  So, the challenge of figuring out if they were or not took over our lives for a while, and we did EVERYTHING to make them speak Farsi.  

But, they were the kind of couple who sit at restaurants and dont say anything to each other the entire time.  You know what I'm talking about.  The type thats like, man, if only I was here with someone else.  

Finally the woman said something like, "bereem."  Something lame and lo and behold, they were Iranian.  

I dont know if its just me, but when I see people who may be Iranian, I become obsessed with figuring out if they are or not.  I literally cannot concentrate on anything else, because I'm so concentrated to know if we are compatriots.  And when I do figure it out, then what?  Then nothing really, I just have the satisfaction of knowing that 1. they really are iranian 2. i can understand them 3.  i probably shouldnt say anything bad about them "booyeh gooz midan" what?  chiiii? 

Yasna one-ups me by being able to speak Swedish, so whenever the Svedes come and sit near us, her radar starts beeping, and she's like, "Oh they're swede, they're swede, I can tell by the way the guy cut his hair [into a mullet.]" 

Mullets are big here among men AND women.  Not like, straight up, red neck or anything, but short up front, longer in the back.  It's really ugly, actually.  I dont dig this fad.  Apparently its big in Sweden?  And Spain.  It's big in Spain.  And Germany.  Da Germans do it.   

OH, Haha, speaking of German accents, I was watching David Letterman, and Zach Braff was his guest, and he was talking about how he works out a lot, and one day he was working out and Arnold Schwarzenegger (wiki'ed that name, fosho) came up to him, and said, in his accent, "You must eat mo carrots."  

Anyway, I guess you had to be there.

Ok honestly, nothing exciting per se happens at the café, but hanging out with Yasna really reminds me of hanging out with Salma, in that, we will laugh at the most RANDOM things you can even imagine, or just have weird conversations that make no sense and think they are hilarious.  And then when we recount our stories to other people, they're like, "Umm, I dont get it.." [insert cat statue story HERE salma].  

Oh, did I mention the café is right across from the Centre Pompidou?  Well, it is.  And so it's pretty much tourist central around there.  We have fun laughing at the Japanese tours that walk by.  OK.  They have the funkiest fashion trends in Japan, OK?  You would laugh too.  Don't even deny it.  

Anyway, then I go to yoga, which is of course, wonderful.  I'm doing this 30 day yoga challenge--I'm on day 3.  Going strong people, going strong.  

I go home afterwards, because showering is important sometimes.  Then who knows what I do...WOO!  Life of the party.  That's me!  

I don't miss home as much as I did last semester.  I seriously think its the weather.  Right now, I'm sitting on my bed, my blinds are up, my windows are open, the sun is shining into my room, I don't have class today.  Life is grand.  

I miss my family/friends, but home, eh, not so much.  Home to me has recently become Paris.  

Love, 

Ranna 

tendez les genoux

dear friends,

Everyone I know in Paris, whether they're staying for only a few months or indefinitely has worked tremendously hard to build a home for himself.  We get jobs, dogs, find significant others, decorate our apartments...  In any case, our home here in paris becomes our REAL home and we define our lives with what we have here.  Our friends become our family, our teachers become our parent figures.  Why?  Because we strive to find familiarity in an unfamiliar landscape.  Life is a mixed bag...

Recently, I have really felt at home here in this city.  At first I was not quite sure where the real change came from, I just knew I had found comfort.  Now, I realize it is because I have found community.  Before, I was always lost, it was hard for me to communicate, I didn't have a "real" life..my life was an alternate reality.  Now, I can find my way around most quartiers (at least, the important ones) around Paris.  I am familiar with the streets, I recognize the beggars who come into the metro and sing for money.  I DO YOGA!!!!  

Yeah...yeah...I want to talk about yoga.  One day, I randomly decided...actually, no I was REALLY cold, and I thought, well, I can either finish the semester in Yemen, or...or what?  What is the best way to find heat here in Paris  What can I do?  And I thought, hmmmmmm, could it be?  Can Bikram really have a studio here?  AND THEY DID!!!  So, I went.  

It's in a great area right across from the Centre Pompidou, a tiny tiny studio, that can probably fit about 40 people.  The best part (at least for the first few times) was that they taught certain classes in English.  So, I went and signed up and it was great.  Well, actually, the English classes were definitely not as dynamic as I would have liked, so last week I decided to go to my first class in French.  

IT WAS SO COOL!  I'm pretty familiar with all of the poses, so I can understand mostly everything the instructors say, if not, I just put it into the context.  PLUS, I learn a crap load of new vocabulary words.  Like, I learned what toes were, and elbows, and chin, and forehead!!  HAHA, its amazing!  I feel great you guys.  You know, I think it's because since Im concentrating so much on trying to understand, I stay more focused during each pose, because I actually do everything that the instructors tell me to do, rather than zoning off.  I can feel myself getting better.  

Tonight, I had dinner with Marion, and she told me that I looked different and acted differently since she saw me last week.  She was laughing and told me it was because I started to do yoga regularly.  I think I agree.  

Heres the thing, I think.  In Paris, OK sure, I'm learning French, but I had lost sight of a lot of the goals I had in my mind.  Yoga opens the door to a new goal.  Becoming GOOD at it.  I pretty much still look really funny compared to the yogis in the class.  For all those "Friends" fans out there, I'm like Phoebe during the dance class, when she's like, "IM TOTALLY GETTING THIS!!" and she looks like a weirdo, but she's having a great time.  That's how I am.  Having an absolutely amazing time.

Plus, I've met a group of really great people.  Yeah, the yogis are really cool.

And, the weather is starting to get better.  Today, I'm pretty sure it hit 50 degrees, and the sun is out, and they turned on the fountains around Paris.  All signs looking up.  

I feel zen.  I feel good : ) 

xxRanna 

vrac is crack

Marion left a box of white chocolate with coconut chips on my desk with a note that reads, "thanks for all, my roomy! ps. your mumy has called, not on your MOBILE!  Call her later.  Love, xxmarion."  

I had a piece of the chocolate and it was good.  Not my favorite, but good.  Did you know white chocolate is not really chocolate?  Ask Salma, she can give you the details.

I just checked my email.  GMU Persian Club sent me three of the same email, and then a correction.  Weird.  

My room is silent.  I don't know how much I like it.  For the last week or so I've constantly had people in my house, crashing, or just chilling out.  Sometimes it bothered me.  Especially late at night when I wanted to go to bed.  But other times I liked the feeling of being a part of something.  Having friends who were always around.  Being close to people.  Laughing constantly.  I like laughing.  Laughing feels good. 

Should I go to sleep?  Probably.  I have school tomorrow.  But the thought of having no one to say good night to....  wow.  Did I actually enjoy having roommates?  I wrote in my journal a couple days ago that I didn't know if I could handle having roommates for the long run--that when those petite idiosyncrasies are revealed, all hell breaks loose.  But it seems like I prefer having people stay with me than actually staying in my room by myself, pondering what the weird smell coming from my chauffage actually is and whether its unhealthy.  

If Marion and Yasna (my second roommate) were here right now, I'd probably ask them if there's any truth to the way the main character behaved in "He's Just Not That Into You," and then secretly think that the obvious answer is of course, "yes," but they would say, "Oh, I don't know, its definitely exaggerated."  But they would be thinking, "We do those things all the time..."  Which makes me sad, because I was genuinely embarrassed for that girl.  For all of them. 

But since they're not here, I have to result to writing these questions out on this blog, thus examining the answers for myself.  

This scares me.  What if I've turned into one of those people who hates being by herself?  No, I totally havent.  You know how I know?  This is how I know: today I decided to walk from school to the American Library of Paris, and I was genuinely having a good time taking in the city.  So.  I can be by myself.  I just.  I like friends.  OK I LIKE FRIENDS.  

Also, when I read James Joyce, I feel a level of comfort that I have never felt before.  I'm reading, "Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man," and I've grown pretty obsessed with it.  

I love you a lot, and dont you forget it.  

habibi

i dont have that much to say.  it snowed last weekend, and yesterday.  i've been working on an essay about Islam and France (my obsession du jour).  i will blog about ameh maryam and mersad's visit a little later.  i just want to post this video, because the song is quite beautiful.  

hyperlink

love ranna