Breaking the silence

So, I finally finish typing all this out on the infernal French keyboard. It's my last day in Provence and I've spent the day driving around old haunts, and seeing how absolutely and completely ghetto (as opposed to the pretty much ghetto it was before) my old neighbourhood has become. I feel so cool to have lived here.
Wednesday I lunched with my friend Delphine and her parents, who I haven't seen since I was 13. Since that was 8 years ago I wasn't sure I'd even find her in the same place. But there they all were. Nothing else was the same of course - a lot happens between the ages of 13 and 21 - Delphine is starting her career as a real estate agent, owns a car, smokes half a pack a day and is dating a single father with a view to move in with him in the summer. All of which is so far removed from me that it makes me feel old and directionless, like why don't I grow up already and get on with my life? It's a question that's been bothering me lately, especially being around all these people who have PLANS for the next TWO YEARS OF THEIR LIVES. What?? Am I supposed to KNOW what I'll be doing and where I'll be 2 years from now? Obviously I misplaced the memo. Oh well...
Anyway, I'm being very rude and typing away here while I'm a guest at this house with its wonderful wonderful high speed connection. Here's what I've been writing the past couple weeks, hope you can wade through it.

Bisous.

January 16th 2005:

I have 26 minutes left in which to type up my post:

January 15th 2005

Listening to: Lifted - Bright Eyes "I want a lover I don't have to love, I want a girl who's just out to give a f***"

So, I was walking up the Champs Elysées (yes, I just like saying that) on Wednesday night (unfortunately the Christmas lights had worn out their welcome) and waiting for my brother in the Virgin Megastore; looking a bit unenthusiastically at the soldes which started Monday, and thinking regretfully of the crappy paltriness of my last post, and the e-mails I sent out. I haven't had access since Tuesday night and have no idea when I'll have it again. Needless to say I'm feeling the withdrawal a bit now - I swear it's gotta be as bad as nicotine. As I write this, my parents and I are on the road south to Provence. We've left J in Poitiers for a few days. It's hour 5 of the drive, and I'm forcing myself to zrite this out by hand, though I'm aching to type it -- so much faster. But then it's not like I haven't got the time. I've spent the past 5 hours daydreaming along to my music and composing bits and pieces of posts ... remembering funny things I meant to write about. So I'll try to put my thoughts in some semblance of order here. I've been travelling dozn small highways in the infuriatingly bright light of the rising sun. It might be peaceful, but for the black silhouettes of cardboard men with red lightning bolts through their heads. On these roads they appear every 500 m or so and represent the sites of fatal accidents. Sometimes there are two standing side by side and I wonder if it represents each person or each accident. It's incredibly creepy, incredibly morbid - and strikes me also as incredibly French. It's funny being back in this country. I had forgotten how direct the people are here. It's also interestng to finally be in a place where my vocabulary extends beyond food items and polite greetings. Suddenly I can eavesdrop again, how I've missed that hobby.
So far though, I've spent most of the time in France in the car. This, however, is no complaint. I get about as excited about a car ride as my 12 year old Golden Retriever (and dude, that's excitement). All I need is my cd player and I'm as happy as a clam to sit back here for hours watching out the window and thinking deep thoughts - as deep as mine ever get anyway - and although my mind has been abominably one-tracked lately, I have nonetheless been thinking about my Munich retrospective, about Australia, Fiji, and what to do with my life after I graduate. Granted that last is a bit bigger than I care to venture into right now, but the first I might manage.

Munich Retrospective:
First of all, can I just repeat for like the millionth time how much I LOVE this city? I love it -- eventhough:
-everyone dresses better than me
-I could never afford to live here without major parental support (maybe when I'm 50)
-the girls are pretty f-ing snobby (the poor boys need so much comfort)
-I will never understand German "humour"

But! what really made me fall in love (again!) was the people I met (even those whose names I can't remember). As I'm sure V will agree, Munich is one hell of a party...
Let's take a minute to talk about these people though, since I know you're all dying to know about who I've been hanging out with. (I'm aware, as MR is now an AVID reader of this site, I may get in trouble for the following, but oh well, here goes).

The lesser-knowns:
Franko - 21 year old student of American culture. We spent one night in his apt talking drunken politics till 4am, then stood him up the next night because I was too sick and never saw him again, although he lived across the street from us.

Andy - Never could figure this kid out. Younger friend of MR's with expensive taste and a tendency to wink for no reason. Absolutely f-ing hilarious to be honest, but there's always a feeling that the joke's on you

Luam (again, spelling iffy) - German Ethiopian guy whose name we had a hell of a time recording, and who spent a good part of one night trying to convince us to acccompany him to Berlin to witness his break onto the modelling scene, and demonstrating his skills for V's camera. Absolute sweetheart who led me outside for air after I was sick at Barschwein. Thanks kiddo.

Jean-Baptiste - French-speaking Swiss guy who told me I had the body of a goddess, which to be fair sounded a lot less ridiculous in French (and who am I to deny it? it's not like one gets these compliments everyday) and who had some very interesting relationships with his friends "Je lui ai piqué sa copine."

Max II - Slightly mysterious guy who seemed to show up only when night was half over, and in between rather random vague conversation kept pretty much to himself. Way to work the intriguing vampiric angle.

The Well-Knowns:

Maxi! - What would we have done without MR? A hell of a lot less, I can tell you.
Things you may not have known about Maxi:
- he has an older and a younger brother and the three are IMPOSSIBLE to tel apart on the phone - mostly because when they answer they've just woken up. On more than one occasion I may have called his little brother "honey", but I don't think he minded.
- he is gradually breaking down my resistance to eye contact when toasting (something Steve M never succeeded in doing during grade 11 math class - but everyone knows, and V will definitely corroborate this, that my eye contact is a powerful weapon, no telling what it can do to a person, so I tend to guard it carefully. That's right you nerds I'm like Cyclops).
- He's a sports science student, but smokes like a f-ing chimney (dig dig)
- in a straight face contest he would definitely be the first one to smile
- when he's drunk he forgets his own strength and his knee slaps become paralyzing
- someday he wants to drive a hummer (that would look so funny in munich next to the beamers!)

The known-forevers:

Of course who could forget the family R, always the highlight of our Munich trips. It's interesting to me that such crazy (good crazy -- good) people could make me feel so calm, but they do, and its always so good to see them.
DE of course, who, when we were kids, I used to think was such a pain in the ass BOY, only improves in his old age, and is now the MOST interesting English lit. student I know (don't worry KP, you're right up there too).
He's also the only person I've ever heard (and pleas excuse me for this next) called a fucking cunt in a GOOD way, as in, "Rees, you fucking cunt, how the hell are you?"
In addition to this, I am the soul (surviving) witness to his look of abject humiliation as he stood on the Ubahn platform with his foot stuck in the door of the train - a story which I've threatened to post here, but since I think you really just had to be there, I'll keep the hilarity to myself (take it to my grave) and quit taking the piss, lest he never return an email, ever again.

I've got 3 days left in Munich when I get back next week. Three days in which to do some important exchange things, repack, party one last time with MR, get my head together for Australia, and say good bye to the city & the people... but not for good. This city and I aren't done with each other.

January 17th 2005

You know you've been in Europe too long (can it ever be too long?) when:
- You think "Damn, that girl has the nicest ass I've ever seen, bitch!"
- You roll up your pants in winter.
- You've actually attempted to stuff your pants into your boots.
- Your scarf collection begins to rival your shoes.
- It becomes very important to you to use words like "underwear," "nightstand," "windshield," "trunk," "toilet paper," and "paper towel"
- While looking for a parking space you actually say the words, "I wish we had a Smartcar."
- You can almost say ciao! with a straight face.
- When you speak Russian words to your family they understand and don't miss a beat.
- It sometimes takes a full 2 seconds to remember in which language to say thank you.
- Your 5 to 10 a day are more likely to refer to bread than fruit.
- You say to your brother "The shampoo is the one in German and the conditioner is the one in Cyrillic script."

January 19th 2005

My brother:
A, I've just had a religious experience. My Ferrero Rocher had 12 paper cups on it. It got so thing I thought it must be just three, but then they just kept coming!