Now I know the real meaning of cold, putting on multiple layers of sweaters as much as my body allows, till I am thick-bodied and definitely not as fashionable as I would like to be.
And anyway, what is fashion but something that preoccupies a mind that has nothing new to chew on? France has always been something associated with books, TV5, and Lonely Planet daydreams for me, and now here I am, here we are, here we all are, trying to make sense of the unbelievable taxes on tobacco and why the sun shines so late in the evening.
Yesterday Park de la Tete d’Or was teeming with screaming children, all whom I resented because they spoke better French than I did, all whom I wanted to hug because they were adorably trudging on with horse-shaped balloons and barbapapas (French term for ‘cotton candy’). And Julien and I stopped by to regarde an elephant, who was swaying on his feet and swinging his head to his internal earphones. It’s wonderful to spend an afternoon with elephants. The weather yesterday allowed us to walk from Parc de la Tete d’Or back home, crossing the bridges and walking uphill slowly. Today, the weather is back to gray, with light drizzles that make you feel like not leaving the comforter. At all.
And yesterday I felt the distance between islands and grounds, wondering, where am I, I’m here, I’m somewhere else, it’s exciting, it’s scary, it’s all new. Yesterday, two months married, my husband and I watched an elephant dance in the parc.
And I know that I like it, this feeling, this elephant dance I’m going through, probably, this elephant dance we all go through, whether we are aware of it or not.
I like it.
I really do.
