Autumn Day in Paris

¿How did I ever allow myself to start hating Paris?

Yesterday I woke up and that beautiful, rosy sunlight was streaming through the windows of my one-bedroom appartment. After breakfast and a cup of coffee, I decided against all grumpy and self-loathing judgement to venture out into the city in company of the book I'm currently reading, Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, by Susan Clarke.

After a little over three years in Paris, I had never been to the Institut du Monde Arabe, so I decided to head over there without further delay. To be honest, I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to end up at the Institut or at La Mosquée, a traditional arab restaurant and hammam where I had never been either.

I had decided to take the bus, and just as I was nearing the bus station, I saw it fly by and had to content myself with a long walk. It was a most fortunate misfortune, since the stroll through the Parisian streets and along the river was just what I needed.

I felt the city breathe around me, bathing in the sun, glowing softly with its own warm aura. I don't know whether God intervened so I missed the bus that morning, or later again when, just like a skilled DJ, he crafted an amazing playlist on my iPod. The thing is, I felt lighter with every step, I felt like I was going somewhere, not just someplace.

I arrived first at the Mosquée cause it was further away, but after taking a look around, I realized it probably wasn't the best place to stay. It was loud and with several families sitting at tables around several courtyards. Though quite beautiful, it felt like a Sunday brunch, hardly the kind of mood I was seeking. Remember, I had taken a book with me and was looking for a quite, relaxing time.

I then headed to the Institut du Monde Arabe. Funny I'd never been there, considering how big and emblematic it is. The restaurant and salon de thé is on the 9th floor, so I took the elevator and as I stepped out, I realized I had come to the right place. The terrace opens up and provides an amazing view of Paris, particularly of Notre Dame and the rive droite.

The buildings all around were basking in sunlight... as if they knew winter will come along soon and they must take advantage of the light and warmth as much as possible before it's shrouded in clouds, rain and snow. The glinting river hugs the city, softly caressing the embankments while the sleepy boats stream along noiselessly.

I am one with the view, I am one with Paris, I am one.... just one. I don't need anybody else but me, I can absorb this and enjoy it all by myself. For a moment, I felt like the mail lady from Paris Je T'aime... I was in love with the city, and for at least one afternoon, the city was in love with me. She courted me, she danced with my shadow and

ruffled my hair, she took me in her bossom and smiled down at me with tenderness.

I then sat out on the terrace and proceeded to order a mint tea (this was also my first time). I sat there like a lizzard in the sun, sipping from my tea and going through my novel, enjoying every word and description of British society and intrigue.

The kettle finally gave out and I decided to go, not without stepping out to the edge of the terrace once more to say goodbye to the leaves on the trees all around Paris. I know they'll be gone soon, and they will be sorely missed.

As I headed back towards rue Quincampoix, where my humble abode is located, I couldn't help but feel inmense joy. Who could have guessed I could find new things to do in Paris, things I would enjoy so much? But I realized that, while Paris had played a huge role that day, it was not just about the city, but my life in general. There are so many things left to do, things to enjoy. I don't know about life after death, but there's definitely life after love. And who knows, perhaps there's love after love?

On my way back, I realized I wasn't the only one prancing under the spell and charm of this beautiful lady. The whole city was out in the streets, alive and living, not just alive. I joined in gratefully and thanked my lucky stars, thanked God for my life, for the memories, for having loved and been loved.

And last but not least, I thanked Paris for allowing me to rise, slowly but surely, from the embers of my charring past. She reminded me that you can always stay home under the covers - which is by all means necessary at times - but all the while, the world awaits you and the sun misses you. Every day spent caged in one's own suffering is a day lost, a day without mint tea, without novels, without trees rocking in the wind, without sunlight glistening on the water, a day without Paris in the autumn.

Irreconocible

Me pregunto si es posible sentir un cambio fundamental tomando lugar en uno mismo.

Hay días en los que no me reconozco, o mejor dicho, no tengo más idea de quién soy o quién se supone que sea. Veo mis manos, mi torso desnudo, incluso mis ojos... y no sé, something is off.

Si contará todas las cosas que han cambiado en los últimos seis meses, es cierto que son muchas y muy grandes. Pero esas diferencias, esos cambios, siempre tienen una fuente material. Algo cambió materialmente, fuere mi situación de vivienda o mi físico.

Pero eso no necesariamente implica un cambio en mi esencia, en lo que me hace yo. ¿O sí?

Siento una intuición muy fuerte, una voz interior gritando en advertencia que mi "estructura espiritual", por así llamarla, está cambiando. Tengo miedo, pues no comprendo cabalmente lo que significa.

Perhaps, the shields have taken one too many hits and the hull has been breached. Am I abandoning ship? Do I need to reroute?

Dicen que lo único constante en la vida es el cambio, y también dicen que una persona nunca cambia. ¿Cómo hacer sentido de tales afirmaciones, tan comunes como contradictorias? Tal vez cambiamos sólo en parte, y de ser así ¿qué partes permanecen sin cambios? ¿Estamos todos condenados a perder la inocencia, la ilusión, la fe en el amor, la fe en el prójimo, la fe en uno mismo?

Y si perdemos todo eso, ¿qué más somos aparte de un saco de piel y huesos? Me pregunto si es posible perder el alma sin tener que vendérsela a ningún diablo.

Cuando me veo en el espejo, cuando permito que mi mirada se fije sobre mis ojos, son como pozos vacíos, carentes de luz. ¿Dónde está mi alma? ¿Quién es ese flaco? ¿DÓNDE ESTOY????

Carbon Footprints...

If anyone actually does come to this blog, I certainly hope they'll read this entry. Taking a step back from the chronicles of a divorce and the seeding process for a brighter personal future, I would like to address an issue of truly global concern.

A very dear friend of mine has published a newspaper article on this (check out her link at the end), and though she certainly isn't the first one to do so, and may very well never be the last, there comes a point in our lives when we need to stop dead in our tracks and heed the warning signs.

Hey y'all, it's really here, it's really happening: the world is collapsing beneath our Pradas and Jimmy Choos.

It's very easy to just blame it on the crowd, on the "human race". But what about our own, individual, personal, indivisible responsibility over the environment???

I always knew American society would be the one with the worst record on preserving the environment, the most consumption, the most waste. Indeed, if the entire world consumed at the pace they do, we would need 10 planets to accomodate the entire human race. What I ignored, however, is that if the entire world consumed as many resources as Mexicans do, we would need 5 planets.

"FIVE???? Are you frekin' serious?" I said to my Mexican self. But the truth is that desbelief lies in denial, rather than surprise. Because we have ALL become big spenders, big "wasters". We can't wait for the summer and the January sales, or to travel here and there, to buy a sports car, to get a bigger house, to eat the exotic products from the far-side of the world. Admiting that, I too, am a "waster" is much, much harder than blaming global warming on the automobile industry or the Chinese pollution output.

What will it take for people to assimilate and integrate a culture of environmental protection into their daily lives? Do we actually need to witness the sea swallow up the Netherlands to believe? Once again, no need to go that far, the effects of global warming are ALREADY being felt in EVERY country in the world. Climate change, natural disasters, an all-too-warm autum in certain places and a much-too-wet rainy season in others are visible symptoms of an irreversible trend.

Anyway, I wanted to say that I, at least in my person, have begun to change my mindset. A bit late, I might add, but a change nevertheless. And I have encouraged others to do so as well. A colleague of mine, nearly 70 years of age, had never heard the term "carbon footprint". I explained it to her as she threw away the hefty leftovers from her lunch and announced that she'd be doing some frivolous shopping, for the mere pleasure of it.

We have come to accept cynicism as the natural response from us wasters, but here's the thing: my colleague actually HEARD ME. She went off and investigated the meaning of carbon footprints and calculated her own. In just a few weeks, her habits have changed dramatically.

It's not too late people, but it will be if we don't follow suit. It will be too late if we keep blaming it all on this foreign, impersonal, faceless "human race".

To all you highschool and college seniors, I have something to say: the world is not yours to take, it's yours to protect.

And we damn better do a good job, for the sake of us all.

Karla Barclay's article on climate change:

http://www.eluniversal.com.mx/editoriales/45851.html