Je tiens à toi

Rosie vous a envoyé un message (7)

Je t’aime mon amour ❤

Prudence, hein !!

PRUDENCE PARTOUTTTTT

Ecoute pas ta musique trop fort dans le métro !

Et fais attention à tes environs 🕵🏽🕵🏽🕵🏽

Ecris-moi quand t’es arrivé à la station et puis quand t’es arrivé au boulot stp

Je t’aime trop Thomas ❤

 

 

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Des histoires à raconter

COUCOU !!!! Ouais je sais, ça fait un bail…mais je suis revenue, et avec des nouvelles histoires à raconter.  Alors là, je suis en train de finir mon tout dernier semestre à la fac, enfin, pour undergrad.  La remise de diplômes, c’est en décembre, et Thomas vient aux États-Unis pour y assister.  C’est qui Thomas ? Bahhh, c’est mon mec ça 🙂  Fini les fuck boys ! Fini le heartbreak ! J’embarque sur une nouvelle aventure: l’amour, pur et vrai.

Je vous expliquerai tout dans un autre poste, mais pour l’instant, voici quelques photos de cet été à Paris (et ailleurs).

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Bisous.

WE ARE SO GOOD TOGETHER.

Well, if a miracle occurs within the next eight days, I shall be settling into my apartment in Paris as you turn your calendars from February to March.  You know when everything’s going really well, and you’re almost afraid to be happy because you feel as though maybe you’re not entirely deserving of all of this happiness, and you’re convinced that something must go wrong for balance to be restored to the world?  That’s me right now.  Who knew being a well-traveled 20-year-old with dual citizenship could ever be a disadvantage, eh?

While I anxiously await this long overdue security clearance, here are some photos of the Parisian life I was living last year and that I hope to be living again very soon.

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Métro. Boulot. Dodo.

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Can you tell I had a cold?

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One of my favorite sights.  Everything in this picture.

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Tame Impala!

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So happy.

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Bisous.

MOROCCO

While living in Paris last year, I went to Morocco with my family when they came to visit me between semesters.  I’m definitely going back to Morocco as soon as I can.  It’s a beautiful city with beautiful people.  They’re so welcoming – and it’s not fake.  They are genuinely interested in you and where you come from.  They love to show you what their daily life is like.  They love to take you away from the touristy stuff and invite you into their homes for mint tea and biscuits.  They treat you as a good friend, and those are the kind of people you want to meet while traveling.

Everywhere you turn there’s an amazing opportunity for another beautiful photo.

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It’s so incredibly easy to get lost in the maze of narrow winding streets that are the back alleys of Marrakech, but it’s cool because it kind of makes you feel like an explorer.  I suggest dedicating an entire day to exploring the back streets (although you won’t have even scratched the surface after one day).  Don’t forget the essentials – comfortable shoes, a bottle of water, and most importantly, your camera.

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The building in which we stayed was absolutely gorgeous and we were treated like royalty.  This was clearly a place where tourists stayed, but it was amazing nonetheless.

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I really enjoyed photographing this city because it’s  full of color.  Quite different from the Parisian winter I had left behind.

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Rooftop café with my beautiful mother.

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A visit to the Ben Youssef Medersa Islamic College.

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This mosque is exclusively reserved for the muslim religious practice. (Private) Thank you.

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Making friends.

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The orange pressée is beyond delicious.  Regular (American) orange juice didn’t cut it before, and now it definitely doesn’t.

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Yes, those are mountains in the background!

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This shot of the two boys on the rooftop is one of my favorite shots from this trip.

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We were on a mission to buy one of these gorgeous handmade rugs, but got side-tracked.  The lovely woman gave us a free lesson on how she makes them.  Very complicated.  Props to her for doing that all day every day.

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Leaving early in the morning to catch our flight back to Paris.

Morocco was very good to us.

Bisous.

Garde le pour toi.

Ça fait longtemps, hein ?  It was midterm time and so the past month I’ve been busier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.  I’ve missed blogging!  Anyway here’s a (somewhat funny) story for you:

One day after class, Elena and I were wandering around near Etienne Marcel looking for a place to eat dinner.  We turned down an alley and came across this café – everyone was seated outside à la terrasse.  We weren’t really feeling the outside seating that evening so we hesitantly walked inside, not sure whether there was some unspoken rule known by all Parisians that stated that inside seating was only available between certain hours.  We grabbed a spot next to the window.  While browsing the menu, I happened to notice we had company.  This little guy…

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Five minutes of picture taking with our new friend and still no one had come to take our order.  It was a small café so it wasn’t like the waiters couldn’t see us – there were literally 10 feet separating us from the bar where they were all gathered.  We had even made eye contact with a few of them, but still none of them came over to our table.  Feeling intimidated and quite aware that we were the only customers seated inside the café, we decided that instead of getting up and calling a waiter over, we would just get up quietly and leave as quickly as possible.  We gave the cat one last cuddle and peaced out.  We were so humiliated – how un-parisian.

I guess you could say we gained back some cool points since we were on our way to Art Corpus (tattoo & piercing parlor) to get Elena’s nose pierced.  I followed her to the back of the shop and watched the guy clean out her nose, and finally put in the piercing.  It suits her.  Nose piercings only suit some people – she’s one of them.

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It’s a shame we were too lame to stick it out at that café.  The menu looked amazing.  Instead we ended up getting some shitty Asian food from a sketchy buffet style restaurant round the corner.  Totally would’ve rather eaten with le petit chat.

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Bisous.

Je crois que je t’aime, etc. etc.

Ah merde.  Il va me voir comme ça.  Je me suis même pas brossé les dents.  Le mascara est partout sur mon visage.  Je suis sûre que je sens horrible.  Est-ce que j’ai pris une douche hier?  Je me souviens plus.  J’ai vraiment besoin d’une douche quand même.  Merde, putain, putain de merde, il se réveille, il se tourne vers moi – je fais sembler que je me réveille en même temps – il s’ouvre les yeux-

Il me sourit et il m’embrasse.  Il me serre dans ses bras.

Tout va bien.

On reste au lit pendant une heure.  Puis on s’habille et sort de l’appartement.  On marche main dans la main jusqu’au Champs-Élysées où on descend l’escalier du métro George V.  On passe le Navigo sur le truc, on arrive à peine au quai pour prendre le prochain train.  On change de la ligne 1 à Concorde à la ligne 12.  C’est à Pasteur où je le laisse.  On s’embrasse encore une fois et je sors du métro.

Je marche chez moi comme je m’étais habillée la dernière nuit, et j’ai envie de recommencer.

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Bisous.

Ils sont tous des cons de toute façon.

This week and next week are midterms et du coup, I don’t have much time to write one of my usual posts. I’ll post a few pictures though, they’re worth a thousand words, right?

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Bisous.

Oh, petit cœur

Souviens-toi de la ville,

De la tour, du vin

Oh petit cœur, c’est pas la fin.

~

Il n’est plus là pour prendre ta main

Tant mieux pour toi

Ça va aller, tu verras.

~

Il y aura un jour

Je te promets, il va arriver.

Un jour plein de joie, plein d’amour, et ça va rester.

~

Embrasse la tristesse

Et ton immense chagrin

Mais oh petit cœur, c’est pas la fin.

Je suis pas bourrée.

Tout est allumé, et je suis là

Paralysée, les yeux ouverts, mais je ne peux rien voir.

~

J’ai pas trop bu, j’suis pas bourrée

Ça me fait tellement mal, mais je continue y penser.

~

Personne peut m’aider, tout est ma faute

Que je sois heureuse ou fâchée, ça dépend pas d’un autre.

~

Alors je continue, mal au coeur, mal au ventre

Mais écoute-moi bien, c’est sûr que j’y rentre.

Moitié fille, moitié femme.

First birthday abroad, and mon Dieu, was it good.  I picked up my birthday package my mom had sent me, but waited to open it until I had more time.

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Madeline stickers ❤

Wearing the newly purchased sweater that I found in a store behind Place des Vosges, I took ligne 6 to school from Pasteur to Raspail, a half hour earlier than usual so I could squeeze in a petit déwith Ruthie and German before class.  We went to Le Petit Broc, just down the street from school.

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Smiles all around.

The day passed comme d’hab, and then around 19h Ruthie, Molly, and I went to our favorite restaurant, Krishna Bhavan.  It’s a vegetarian Indian restaurant just off of Rue Saint Jacques near Saint Michel.  I can’t remember the number, but the street is Rue Galande.  If you’re ever in the area, GO HERE.  The food is absolutely amazing and the waiters/waitresses are très gentils.  Now, I’m the kind of person who, once they find something they love, will eat/play/listen/watch/do that thing until they don’t love it anymore.  As Amir Blumenfeld says, “You know, it’s my nature to take things too far.  Some people love me for that.”  Anyway, after ordering the Aloo Channa Masala one night with a side of riz nature and a mango lassi, there was never any need to look at the menu from then on.

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Once we were stuffed and feeling extremely obese, it was time to head back home and put on our best dresses for the surprise birthday night out that the girls had planned for me.  We parted ways, freshened up, and regrouped at Saint Michel.  They lead me to this Latin club/bar/j’sais pas quoi in the Latin Quarter (surprise).  First thing I see when I walk in is naked (minus very small pairs of underwear) male waiters serving fruity alcoholic drinks to thirsty women.

After a few drinks, I look over to the bar to see Ruthie giving one of the waiters 20 euros.  My stomach fell out of my ass at that point. Despite being under the influence, I knew exactly what was going on.  Now normally at this point, I’d feel the anxiety kicking in and I’d be begging Ruthie to ask for her money back – BUT, as I’ve said before, Paris was a big year for me in terms of overcoming my social anxiety.  I say “overcoming”, but that by no means is to say that I no longer have social anxiety.  It’s still there, I carry it around with me every day.  Some days are worse than others, some days are better, but being abroad really helped me learn how to deal with it and to stop it from controlling my life.  So, with my newfound confidence, I just went with it, and twenty minutes later I was being lifted into the air by a very muscular half-naked waiter wearing a pair of orange zebra-print glasses.  (These glasses somehow ended up on my bedside table the next morning when I woke up.  Don’t worry – I pretty much just stole the waiter’s glasses.  #noragrets).

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Hair completely frizzed from the heat in the club, the remains of carefully applied lipstick, but clearly still très contente.

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Yea.

I feel like every woman’s got to do it once in her life.  I guess after 19 years it was my time.  Happy 19th to me!

Bisous.