(This little post stayed parked in my “drafts” until today when I stumbled upon it. I wrote it originally when sitting on the plane flying back to the US. No wifi on the plane so I ended up posting this months later.)
Luis and I wrapped up our last days in Europe and muddled through 2 days of transit to get back home. The last day in Germany included an attempt to make a Mexican dinner at Miguel’s using items from the local Reve grocery store.
Incredible sadness washed over me as we cleared out of Miguel’s apartment the next morning. Luis encouraged me to focus on the packing and traveling by telling me I shouldn’t cry till we were on the train to Paris. So I packed in silence, afraid that I would sob and wouldn’t be able to finish packing. At last, we boarded the high speed train. I swallowed big gulps of mixed emotions, happy that Miguel was finding his way in his career and sad about the distance that separates us.
Once we arrived in Paris, we went by taxi to a clean, literacy-themed hotel in Montmartre. We made our way to the Sacre Cour through streets full of loud and bustling tourists. Finally we found a small bistrot that played Aretha Franklin music. At that point I cried. It was for the passing of Aretha, the love that Parisians have for her music, for our departure from Miguel, and for the realization this might be the last whirlwind, grinding vacation. My heart was full and just overflowed out of my eyes.
Morning came we hustled out of the room to walk for a last stroll in Paris. We wound our way through a city still asleep, found the Moulin Rouge and several other moulins and then stumbled upon the Montmarte Cemetery tucked under expressway overpasses. What a sight, both happy and somber, historic and modern. A little like aspects of our trip.
Finally, off the the airport and the beginning of more hours of travel. We will arrive home to the realities of starting the school year in just a couple of days.
Ordinary Gente 