Children without Parents

Spent all weekend at church services. The guest speaker was Heidi Baker, a missionary from Mozambique. She builds orphanages. Of course I was intrigued. There was raw charisma in the place.

I don’t know when “my thing” for orphanages came about. Perhaps it was instilled in me when I learned I was adopted. In 2^nd grade, each student had a day which celebrated him or her. It was like a birthday because we got cupcakes or other treats. The student stood in front of the class (you could bring a friend up with you) and told everyone else about him/herself. The process usually involved some sort of favorite stuffed animal or pet undoubtedly accompanied by lots of family photos. I distinctly remember that on my special day, I proudly declared to the whole class that I was adopted. Any of you who knew me at this age can probably image in what manner I undoubtedly declared this tiny declaration – wild eyes, disheveled hair and a huge grin – so characteristic of me, even now. This was the first time I remember having a definite knowledge of my adoption.

I used to write stories and act out plays involving orphan trains. I pushed hard for my youth group to sponsor an orphan. I found my niche in an orphanage in the Philippines. Even now, there is a part of me that wants to be involved with orphans. I don’t know where or how, but I think everything will be revealed in time.

So this weekend spent listening to Heidi Baker was incredible. I cried. I rarely cry. Tears don’t seem to come naturally to me. My soul wept and my eyes cried.

Shooting Dogs

I sat quietly in the back of the movie theatre. There were only two other people in the room with me. We were watching a film called “Shooting Dogs.” It’s about the Rwandan genocide. Grim. Sad. Worth watching.

There are so many horrible realities in this world. Most of us merely sit in our nice houses, worrying about our petty problems while more than half the world lives on less than two dollars a day. A good percentage of the world is hungry. Another percentage is being killed even as I type. Call me a sentimentalist, but seriously my heart bleeds.

There is a scene in the movie where a teacher is given two options: He can keep his promise to stay with his pupils and face certain death or leave with the U.N. forces and be certain of safety. What a choice! I fear that I would love my life too much to make such a permanent sacrifice for others. The teacher chooses safety. No man has a greater love than to give his life for his friends ….

Thanks for the recommendation Damien!

The cause of misery

I am the cause of Madame’s misery. I made her cry again today. This is the second time within 7 days. This time it was because she thought I had abandoned our dinner plans for this evening. Instead I was in my room studying with headphones. I didn’t hear her come home. I found her in the living room with dinner finished and tears in her eyes. Last time it was because she hadn’t seen me in three days. Does any of this warrant crying? When we do eat dinner together, we sit in the living room and watch TV. She makes prepackaged meals, so it’s not like she goes to any great trouble to cook. Perhaps she is going through menopause? Did I mention that she hung up on me Sunday during a telephone conversation? I pay her 650 euros a month and am under no obligation to please her lonely whims. I digress.

I spent ALL Sunday at church. I went to a pentecostal mass/worship service, an evangelical prayer meeting, and a catholic prayer service. Things started at 8:30 and I didn’t get home until after midnight. Whoa.

How to say No and mean it.

I wouldn’t call myself a feminist. I merely believe that women can and should take the initiative to stand up for themselves. If that belief makes me a feminist, then so be it.

I met up with some friends tonight for a rock show near the Bastille. The show ended up more folk rocksy, but it was a good time. We arrived before the bands. lol. But after a while, the place started filling up. Friends of friends started showing up and everyone is having a good time. There are a lot of introductions. Being myself, I don’t really remember anyone’s name (it usually takes me at least 3 meetings to remember a name – sad but true). One guy was quite drunk. In his drunken state, he takes it upon himself to start hitting on a girl from IES. She just sits there and smiles. Apparently she was not having a good time but refused to say anything to anyone. The guy wouldn’t leave her alone, so she merely sat there and endured it. Way to stand up for yourself champ! Instead of getting one of the guys she knew to help her out, she sits and smiles. Smiles!!! Let your yes be yes and your no be no. Otherwise confusion arises out of the lack of communication. There’s nothing like a “no, don’t touch me” remark followed by a “here is my new boyfriend Guillaume” (finding the nearest tough looking guy). Granted this may not always work, but at least it’s a start in the right direction.

Anyway, at some point the IES girl leaves taking the only other girl with her. I have no idea when this happened exactly, only that it did. Again lack of communication. Thanks for that. I look around to find myself hanging out with 9 beer drinking French guys. Story of my life – just me and the guys. And allow me to just say that some of these dudes could put you in a coma. Rodney Hughes, I think these guys could beat you up … and that’s saying something! I digress.

The night actually passed rather well. I just found humor in the fact that most of it was spent with a bunch of dudes. And for those of you concerned about my safety, I had a friend escort me home.

Endnote: Someone should do a study on what makes a girl a target. Actually I’m sure it has already been done …. It's not my story is an especially good example of anything, but I get so irritated when people let themselves get walked on. Stand up for yourself. Do something.

The Philosophy Café and Racism.

So every Wednesday, in the south of Paris, there is a café philosophique. Basically what this entails is a large group of intellectuals (pseudo or otherwise) BSing about things which really don’t matter in the grand scheme of life but that are nevertheless interesting. My friend, Chi Wai, wanted to go because a classmate (female) was co-leading the discussion. The topic was: “Is life truly complete without pain.” As I have never lived without pain of some sort (comme on, do you think it doesn’t hurt the little baby to be thrust out of the womb!), I cannot give an informed opinion. That being said, I think the greatest lives are lived by continually pushing the self to new heights – that means taking risks, sometimes acting foolish, occasionally letting the heart be venerable, etc. A quote that gets overused goes something like: to love and to lose is better than never loving at all.

In France, there is no real racism dialogue. In theory everyone is French … “nos ancêtres les Gaulois.” I have mixed feelings about this philosophy. I think it both alienates and embraces individuals. It’s a more collective viewpoint which tends to “erk” most American mindsets. I freely admit that I am all about the American individualism – but that’s another topic. Anyway, in practice not everyone is French. Case in point: my friend Fanny. She is French. She was born and raised here. French is her native language. She has a Parisian accent. She is an articulate, informed, bright person and I love her to death (side note). Her heritage is Asian. Fanny had some really good thoughts to add to the “life without pain” discussion. She stated her thoughts and backed them with additional information which added to the overall life of the discussion. However, the professor leading the conversation dismissed her views as “Asian” and definitely not a product of the French educational system. In the end, the professor thanked her for her “Chinese opinion.” Fanny was fuming. I don’t blame her.

Charise leaves tomorrow. I’m sad to see her go. Alas my friend, the time has come for us to part …. Les larmes.

My Darling Charise

Charise arrived in Paris this morning! She is like my breath of fresh air. I’m so happy to see her.

I met her at Charles de Gaulle (the airport) around 7:45. I could have danced when I saw her! After a big hug, I took her suitcase and led her to the RER. On the RER, a woman sang a beautiful melancholic Arabic song for money. The train rushed along to the melody. It was one of those times when you sigh and think the world is perfect.

Charise’s hostel is in the 18^th, near Sacre Coeur. We made a morning tour of various churches and ended up around Belleville. It was such a beautiful day for walking. Charise and I met at Georgetown last summer. We hit it off pretty well. She is from New York state and attends a small liberal arts school, not like it matters much to anyone reading this. Anyway, it was just so good to talk to a friend who has more to talk about than sororities, sexual escapades, and shopping. I feel what little connection I had to people at IES is waning. Don’t get me wrong, I often have silly, utterly meaningless ideas and conversations. I do not claim to be a Rousseau or a Zola. However, sometimes you just want to talk on things that actually matter in the grand scheme of life. I digress.

We made our way to the Père Lachaise cemetery. It amazes me how much individuals strive to keep their memory alive after death. There are so many grand monuments commemorating so many forgotten people. How sad it is to be forgotten!

Met Fanny and Chi Wai for cheese and meat fondue near Pigalle. It was at this famous touristy place where patrons are given wine in baby bottles. We spoke in French the entire night – quite challenging but fun. Got on the subject of the differences of higher education in France vs. the United States. Most universities in France are free. Even the ones you have to pay for are relatively cheap by American standards. If I lived in France, I wouldn’t have a $60,000 debt at the age of 20.

Charise will be graduating this spring. Like me, she has no real idea what she wants to do after graduation. Oh the liberal arts – an open world to discover! I used to have a clear vision of what I wanted to do. Now I have so many aspirations and interests (this could be why I have three majors AND a minor), that nothing is as clear cut as it used to be. Charise has applied to be an English teacher for the French government next year. I hope she gets it. If not, perhaps she will be found on Capitol Hill.

The world is our oyster or so the saying goes.

This Week in Passing

I was invited to dinner Tuesday night. A bunch of IES students were invited to attend a dinner at the house of some students who come the conversation every Wednesday. It was fun. It snowed as some of us walked back to the metro. Paris was completely white.

My cinema class proves to be enjoyable. The official title is “European Cinema.” I’ve seen so many films I never would have seen otherwise. I’ve been introduced to Fellini and Fassbinder. Check them out if you have any interest in movies. Their stuff promises to be more interesting than most things Hollywood puts out.

I got my make-up done at Sephora Thursday. For most people, this is not such a big deal. For me, it was an experience. The only kind of professional make-up consultation I had ever had before this was during a girl’s sleepover at my old church. I think I was in 8^th grade. The church invited some Mary Kay ladies to give us all some “fashion tips” The Mary Kay consultant had put green eye-liner on me while the rest of my friends received more traditional looks. I remember thinking that I looked like a clown. After that I relied on magazines and other things for make-up advice – not that I ever really follow the advice. Nope, I’m you’re basic brown mascara girl.

So anyway, the person at Sephora decided shades of purple would go great with my pale skin tone. I would have to agree - I surprised myself when I looked in the mirror. I was like "wow, I actually look pretty good." So everyone, be prepared: you might encounter a whole new yoho look when I come home.

The highlight of the week was seeing Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme. The play itself was in its original form (old french, the complete ballet, baroque instruments). The designer kept the period dress while adding some contemporary edge to it. I liked it although it was rather long (over 4 hours!). Out of the 10 people I invited to the play, only two came. I hope that they enjoyed themselves. I really wasn't prepared for such a long piece and I don't think they were either. Sat in the orchestra section (usually pretty high class). I was amazed at what people were wearing - some of the trashiest people I've seen in Paris were sitting around me. I was pretty dressed up - so grr on them.