Paris

Finally, I have done something impulsive!  I was offered a free trip to Paris with The Principal and accepted.  My first adventure out of the country and I would be traveling alone only to meet up with my ex-boyfriend in a country where I don't speak the language...  I was terrified and thrilled all at once.

The only damper was the constant commentary coming at me from all my friends.

Anastasia: What if he proposes?

Me:  That won't happen.  This is purely a platonic trip.

Anastasia snorts:  The man asks you to meet in Paris, the most romantic city on earth, for New Years all expenses paid and you think it's platonic?

Me:  Yes.  He's not like that.  I bet he just wants someone to hang out with and the best he could come up with was me because he's socially retarded.

Lola from work:  He's gonna be expecting some "you know" in the hotel!

Me: (blush the color of blood) It's not that kind of trip!

Julie:  He could be doing this as the grand gesture... Moved to South America and realized what he gave up and trying to win you back...

Me: First of all, it's South Africa.  Totally different continent.  Second, he isn't like that!  He knew what he gave up when he moved to New Mexico and again to back-ass-ward Africa.  He didn't care.

Julie: So what would you say if he did propose?

And I thought about that.  More times than I probably should have before the trip.  I knew my answer would be no.  Too much silence, never bothering to reach out to me.  He doesn't know how to love and I want more than that, or at least I won't settle for less than all consuming love.

But another part of me thought..........  Well, I thought I would probably say yes.  It was, after all, the grand gesture I had been waiting all these years for.  Let's be honest, The Principal could have given me a micro gesture and I would be impressed.

I was determined to go to Paris and have a blast regardless of anything romantic.  This was Paris!  This was a different continent!  This was something I was destined to see, take in and ingrain into my soul.  Principal aside, I was in this for the pure bliss of experiencing something deep down I always knew I would deprive myself of.

On my flight from Phoenix to Atlanta I actually cried.  I was so worried about leaving my animals, my work, everything familiar.  On the flight to Paris I could barely breathe... we were traveling so fast, I was alone, I don't drink freaking wine...  Do you know  how fast those fucking planes go over water?  And you can read it all on a little screen that it's like -70 outside.  All I could think was that we were going down and everyone knows what happened at the end of Titanic...  Needless to say my stomach was a mess and I never slept a wink.

In the airport I roamed around, got hailed by French speaking cabbies, and paid God knows how much in euros for bottled water.  Finally, the Principal called.  I made my way through the terminal to meet him, not sure of how we should greet each other.  Handshake?  Hug?  Kiss?  High five?  I instantly missed my lonely patio.

He wrapped me up in a big hug and kissed me.  He seemed so happy to see me...

The drive to the hotel made my exhaustion kick in but I was consumed by taking in the sight around me.  The strange yet familiar freeways.  The shanties set up out of cardboard and quilts outside the city shocked me.   Then... then the beautiful, grey city that sparkled with hits of gold, copper and marble.  Sights I had only glimpsed in movies.  I could not really be here, this was a dream.  Our hotel was located right in the middle of things and when I saw the Arc I was awestruck.  We had windows that you could step out of and stand on a little balcony.  I felt like I was looking at the rooftops of Oliver Twist.  Innumerable chimneys, no longer smoking, scattered across the grey rooftops and the clouds looked like they were from a sky on another world.  I fell in love.... With Paris.

Though I was exhausted I rallied, took a shower and we walked all over for hours.  I saw the Seine, the Louvre, Notre Dame at dusk.  I walked across the lock bridges and breathed the air that's been circulating in this strange old land forever.  We sat in a cafe and drank European coffee, which my sister told me I would hate but I loved.  We walked in the rain for miles before falling in bed by 7pm.

I woke at 6am the next morning and we started it all over again.  The Musee D'Orsey- I wanted to live in there!  My sister always talks about spending hours in these museums and I internally cringe because how could I ever stand in front of a painting for hours?  The Impressionists hijacked my soul and I couldn't move. The sculptures that someone spent YEARS carving into an ethereal being larger than life made me want to weep.  It suddenly made sense why this trip was such a good idea.  I felt like I was being infused with history, brilliance, passion for living.  I wanted to move there.  I daydreamed of meeting a man who would take me there to live and buy me lots of wool pea coats.

Oh yeah, back to The Principal.  Everything was easy going.  He is as easy to travel with as he was to date.  We didn't have to talk much, there was too much to see.  When we finally had a chance to catch our breaths on the second day, we sat down at a cafe and ordered beer. After the second one I started to ask the uncomfortable questions I wanted to get out of my way.

I asked why he would invite me to Paris, a romantic city, for New Years.  He didn't think it was that romantic and he thought it would be fun. He had no agenda.

I asked why he blew me off last year when he moved.  He was a selfish asshole. (His words)

I told him I still loved him, but I realized we would never work.  He looked scared but I told him I was just stating a fact, not opening a conversation about it.  I just wanted to get it out of the way so I could move forward.  He said he still loved me very much too.

And that was it.  We got all the awkward out, went to the gardens surrounding the Eiffel Tower, drank beers in a pub and watched the fireworks as the New Year rang in.  We kissed once.  I felt a little jealous of the couples embracing all around us but then I thought "Fuck it, I'm in PARIS!"  The rest of the night was a laugh.  The gardens were muddy from all the rain and I had to be the watch out while the Principal pees in bushes.  The metro was too packed so we walked 3 miles back to the hotel, picking up sandwiches and fries to gobble down drunkenly...

Needless to say, the next day we were hungover.  We walked around for 4-5 hours looking at everything and went to bed early.  Day 4 was the Louvre and I was so overwhelmed by the size of that place I could barely breathe.  People were packed everywhere and the Principal gave me an anxiety attack in a crowd I couldn't escape.  I got the mean look, but I didn't cry.  I was hellbent to enjoy this trip and nothing was going to ruin it.  We climbed the Arc, 280 some odd stone steps to the top in a cramped circular staircase, then you are on top of the world!  It was amazing to see the entire city.  We passed on going up the Eiffel Tower after waiting in line for two hours and getting no closer to the front.  My feet were frozen...  Laying in bed that night I snuggled my pillow to fall asleep but the Principal finally wanted to hold me.  I was too used to my comfortable side of the bed so it didn't last long.

Our last day we got in Notre Dame and Luxembourg Gardens.  Words truly cannot describe.  The trip, that sky, will forever be embedded in my brain.  It was too short, but I am so happy I went.

At the airport the Principal went with me through getting checked in and walked me to the gate.  I thanked him again for the opportunity to see this country.  I told him to take care.  I hugged him hard, ready to go. He grabbed my face, kissed me hard, and said "I love you very much."

All I could do was give him a big hug and walk through security trying to keep the tears back.  I knew in my heart I would never see him again.