Now I feel far away

I really don't have a formulated opinion on the Biden bid. Any thoughts from you all?

I hear Paris is turning into September already. Geneva is turning chilly, although next week promises to be back up in the sunny 77F-80F (25C-27C), just when I finish the internship. I'm keeping an eye on Cinque Terre weather for the last weekend in August to early September (hi, mom & dad, I'm going to Italy for a few days with my Russian friend, Dasha). It's supposed to stay in the same temperatures as Geneva next week. I'm not one to talk much to anyone about the weather, but I have noticed how tremendously much happier I am in the sun and heat. I guess I should find a job in Africa or Central America to keep the spirits up. (only somewhat kidding)

I have noted to a few people that I have been under the weather (hardy har har) of late. Not sick, but low in spirits and not just because of the change in weather. In self-analysis, I'm realizing it's because I miss my friend. Dasha left last week to go to summer school up in the Netherlands. I hadn't really spent that kind of time with anyone since I left Madison. Almost all of my colleagues in school in Paris were friends, but we were working so hard night and day (well, I was) that I didn't have one or two people with whom I spent much time. For nearly two months here I worked with Dasha, went out on the weekends with her, spent nights with her. It was very interesting how quickly we gravitated to each other. Her face in slight features kind of reminded me of photos of my sister when she was a kid - long straight hair, rounder face and warm eyes. We have so much in common, too.

So, when I went to bed the other night, after a nice meal with the flatmate and her friends, I laid there wondering what was wrong with me. I have felt so happy for weeks and weeks. All that surfaced was "Something is missing." I hadn't felt that longing, homesickness (for a person), or minor emptiness in a long time. It was good to feel this. Life is full and diverse and it's not realistic to be happy 24-7 (nor is it healthy to be dependent or sad or angry or whatnot 24-7). I'm lucky to feel it all.

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More new photos - mostly in request from the colleague interns that I get the photos online of them, for them, and asap - you can find them in the "UNOG and intern friends" folder. We've had weekly good-bye parties for interns as they depart their internship and go wherever next. I am so thrilled to have made good friends in such a short time. So proud to know such an amazing array of people from all over the world, who are ambitious, smart, funny, and kind people. I've never spent much time with people from Central Asia or Russia, especially during a critical period of international activity. We have discussed the culture of the USA (including the more patriotic side of things from the point of view of an intern who is Russian-born, American by choice versus my more critical point of view as someone who is American by birth, world-traveller by choice). We have taught each other new languages. We have suffered heartbreak, found new jobs, had interviews, shared food, met each others' friends, and laughed so much together. I think that this is the strongest point of the internship. I might not have networked myself to the perfect job after graduation, but I can rest assured that I have made good friends who might one day end up working with me - or me for them!

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oh, and there's a ton of new videos from Italy up on youtube/larauk05

Stop, summer, stop

I just want this heat and sun and summer to last.

All of a sudden I feel homesick for my family.

I am editing and uploading photos from my sister trip to Italy and realize that I miss my family and, also, think my soul somehow connected with Cinque Terre very deeply. It is not only one of the most beautiful places on earth but really resonated inside me. Sure, the Taj Mahal is amazing, sure Antartica is incredible, and yes I'm sure the pyramids are a sight to behold, but something in the Cinque Terre area made me feel free, content, liberated, strong, at peace, and like I could chuck it all and go open a tarot card reader shop and be happy for the rest of my life. Or, maybe I could help the old guy at Due Gemelli run his hotel.

One of many dreams that inspired me to apply to grad school: It was me, retired to a flat on the 14th floor of an apartment building overlooking a park in Buenos Aires. I have a library, an ottoman, my crippled body shuffling to the window, my own books on the shelves behind me. Now, I wonder if I could put that overlooking the sea in Corniglia.

On our third day in Cinque, we hiked from Vernazza (which seemed like heaven on water the day before when we arrived after hiking for hours) to Corniglia. It was not the most beautiful town, and we followed the signs to the "beach" which was hundreds of stairs down from the hill (we thought of the return upwards and groaned). Almost to the end of the stairs at the rocky cliff "beach," we passed a two-story building. A man came out to his two dogs. I thought of Miller, Hemingway, every lighthouse man, every writer or painter by the sea. He, along with the memory of the man the day before, who stepped out onto his porch when we were mid-hike, mid-olive grove, mid-vineyard, he stepped out to tinker with a machine part in the sun. Was there a cigarette in the corner of his mouth? And when I tried in French-Spanish-Italian-English to tell him he was lucky to live here, he commented back in broken English that he was old, I was young. This form of solitude at the slowing down days. I want this.

....

Two years ago, I wrote somewhere that I wanted to be an intern at the UN.

Be careful what you wish for.

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I wish to be in the hills of Cinque Terre. Before my hands are disabled by arthritis. Before I can no longer hike the hills. And after I know I can afford to mold myself into the hills and seas, rocks and cobblestones. My soul has so many houses on this planet. I have not returned to the most important yet. Some day I will.

finished, fini, finito, f grad school

Did anyone else want to cry pounds of saltwater out of their tear ducts when they did the last spell check on the last paper that felt like the last ounce of energy in their body?

Well, there's no time to stop now.

My sister comes to town tomorrow at 8am (I desperately need 1 day to sleep all day!!!). We hug and then run down to my school so I can print the final copy and email the final to the prof. I pay the landlord rent - if he's lucky. We find me my own guide book to Northern Italy. We buy a few needed items since I've had no time to run errands. We drink at least 2 bottles of cheap French wine in celebration of me finishing my first year of grad school without tearing out all of my hair -- although I have noticed I'm shedding more than I ever did before in my life. We cruise the Venice Marco Polo rental car agencies online, pick one (she's such a smart girl and got the international driving license before she left the US - me? I was thinking I could just walk in and show them my badass driving skills.... seriously, I was neck-deep in the Fed).

Then, Tuesday we hop an Easy Jet to Venice, get a car and head for the west. It's so unplanned right now and I'm not freaking out at all about that. In fact, I could care less what happens to us over there. If we could just find a little room in a little town with a bunch of good olives and good wine and cute Italian people, I'll be happy. I'm revisiting college days and only packing a small bag. I am hoping for a Sofia Loren moment in a sundress and handbag overlooking some nice windy, tiny town where small boys chase balls in the street and the men lean out windows to whistle. .. Or, again, just a room and some wine.

I totally think I bombed the last two papers I wrote and frankly, senioritis has me so bad right now that I can't care too badly. But then I remember my high standards of late and think maybe it's not so bad. And that really each paper I write could turn into a PhD if given enough time. I reviewed my Ethiopia-Eritrea paper with the prof, which almost sent me into fits. He highlighted like every other line and was really way too interested in my paper than I thought it warranted. He asked for a few clarifications that made me panic. I mean, frankly, I write a paper, turn it in and forget it just to move on to the next thing. How am I supposed to remember what I meant by the negotiations already being biased based on the fact that the Ethiopians were requested to move back to their territory prior to the 1987 conflict? (Hmmm I guess I do remember - it meant that the unmarked border was in essence falling to the benefit of the Ethiopians as the border wasn't theirs to determine necessarily. Having international orgs determine this line inflamed Eritrea and cast a shadow of favoritism over the whole negotiation. ... hmm.. Yeah, I did love that paper.)

Anyway. Other than that paper, I'm clueless on any grades and I don't care. Grad school isn't really about grades. It's more about effort and comprehension. And I like that. And I also like that it's over for now.

So, sister and I and Italy. Venice, Florence, Cinque Terre, Venice, back to Paris. We'll have a half-day here and then the graduation of the 2nd years - my last real time to see them and see a bunch of my own cohorts. So bizarre the ending to this year. There wasn't a single event of closure at all. No big bang. No big fiesta or fete or frankenweiner. All of a sudden, we were all in a panic to finish papers in the last 3 weeks and then people just kind of peeled off. I happened to be there at the time when one of my friends was leaving to go finish packing to return to Canada the next day and then go off to LSE or Columbia for the next year. Kind of suffering separation anxiety, and kind of totally excited to know I have some amazing friends all over the world again.

Bittersweet this.

On another front, I'm kind of seeing someone. Man, I haven't even told my in-person friends about this really. But I guess I can tell the whole anonymous world (I'm pretending my family doesn't read this right now). He's French, and kind of very French. He's a bit more romantic than my pragmatic American senses, but there's mutual respect for these differences. Last night he had me over for an apertif to meet a ton of his friends and then to this super kickass monthly event at Telebocal. An independent TV/film production group. It seemed very punk rock, DIY, hippie, original. The gist is that they film events, do on-street interviews and then have a showing of their work monthly. A lot of interns from local universities and young people. I laughed so hard - and actually laughed at the right places and actually understood a lot of the low-brow humor. Got to meet more new French friends. And then got to dance my booty off! The end band was this amazing alternative, mod, punk rock precussion ensemble with a room full of drum sets and musicians in sunglasses playing plastic kid's toys. It was fantastic. So, yes, while I'm moaning about the work load, I am getting out and enjoying the sunlight and night events.

So, one of the interesting things about last night was the amount of times I got up from the couch. Right, sounds like nothing unusual. But literally, every person who comes in greets every person already there. So, every time someone arrived we'd get up from the deep-seated couch and kiss right-left cheek and sneak in our name as intro and then "enchante," which I love because it's so fairy-tale. But, man, what a ritual. I remember Argentina having the right-cheek kiss at intros, but did they have it at departures? And was it so formal that at a party everyone would get up and do the rounds? And who invented cheek-kissing anyway? And who determines how many in which country? Santa? The Queen?

Yes. Well. So there's Paris, then Italy, then Paris for about a week during which I scrub and pack and lock-down and prepare for the Brit subletters and take off to Geneva. Then, there's like, dude, real working. Or, fake real working - I think the motto will be make the most of it and make your own adventure. I don't think I'll be fetching coffee, but since all the interns were in relaxed gear, I'm doubtful I'll be entrusted with the secret documents about the new statistics out from Russia on the growth of their economy. (Not that that's a secret anyway.) I know the point is more to network and meet other interesting people at other interesting organizations in hopes of making some lasting impression so I get a job in the future and pay off my family loans and the Chinese.

But yes, as AA says, one day at a time. And for now, it's 3 minutes into the day my sister arrives and I should go get some sleep. Yeah.. in college when I finished a year it was all about the party, now it's grad school and all about the sleep. Heh.

Bisous.