Leaving on a jet plane

Well, rather, on a fast train.

Bought my ticket to Paris on Monday. Leaving on 9/11. Seems appropriate since I left the USA for Paris on the same date - after all, tickets are cheaper then. It's my reinvention of a bad day into something good, some change.

Cinque Terre was great. It wasn't the pilgrimage I thought it would be, but it brought me closer to my good friend. It was a lot drier this time around so we weren't slipping on rocks the whole hike. The pasta was excellent, the seafood fresh, the sun boiling, the exercise cathartic.

Since I got back to Geneve, have been working on photos, working on the conference I'm planning for the students of my school and 4 other schools that will happen in November. (How oh how did I rope myself into this one?) Also, caught all the DNC and RNC action online. Interesting differences. I'm scared, I'm hopeful, I have no idea what's going on. It feels strange not to be participating in another one of the most important historic events of my country. Strange, but relieving. I don't envy my past co-workers who are working so hard for this election. I'm slightly disillusioned, but yet inspired still by Obama. I can't imagine what the campaign trail does to a person, but I hope everyone is taking their vitamins. (Especially after the news clips of Hilary talking about eating pizza all the time.)

.....
9/11/08

It's always strange to see an empty room without the hope and excitement of filling it. I can't wait to arrive in Paris, although I'm not looking forward to the miles of up/down stairs with my backpack and suitcase. They need to invent elevators. Seriously, I still wonder what physically-challenged people do to get around. And, then, I'll have the long climb of 101 stairs to my apartment. I'll go up, unload the backpack, go down, separate out the suitcase and go up with both. Then, I will pass out. No, then, I will make the bed, check the apartment, get food, get wine, and slowly unpack to fill an empty room with future.

Last night, the flatmate and I had a wonderful meal, drank really great wine, and read tarot cards again. It's quite interesting this pagan ritual. Interpretation can play a major part, but I never, not once, picked up the "fool" card. In fact, it seemed as if my fingers were blessed to pick out only cards with strength, communication, warmth, internal power, and victory. I'm excited about this next year of school, and I can't wait to see what happens afterwards.

Well, see you all back in Paris! Oui, oui, Paris.

Ciao, Geneve!