Movin' on up

Today was the culmination of about three days of nerves and paralysis. Whenever I get overwhelmed, I turn into a sort of vegetable. In this guess, I blew off some schoolwork because I was too numbed to think about anything but packing and cleaning. This morning I called a cab to take me to my new apartment (at 23 rue Dauphine in the 6th, for those interested), dropped off my magnanimous bags and the kitty, then took the metro straight back to Mouffetard. Before heading back to the studio for the daunting task of cleaning, I got an egg, cheese, and chicken crepe and it was fucking incredible. I've only eaten a handful of crepes in the last 9 months and while that seems strange, I actually don't regret it.
Anyway, I returned to my almost-not-anymore home to eat my crepe and fire up the laptop for a Queer as Folk/heavy-duty cleaning marathon. After about 4 hours of scrubbing, sweeping, and lint-rolling, I was all done. At one point I sat in my foyer with my doormat and a roll of packing tape, practically waxing the thing to get all of the cat hair off of it. I had to do the same thing to the desk chair and the bedroll. Ironically, you wouldn't even know I had a cat right now, because he hid himself under the sink in the new studio this morning and I haven't seen him since. The only reason I know he's still down there is because I reached down and accidentally pulled his ear when I was looking for him. This is his way of punishing me for jostling him so much. Oh and making him ride in the car.
Anyway, I called myself cab #2 of the day around 4:30 and took the rest of my shit to my new place, stopping at my property manager's office on the way to shove my keys in the mail slot. She called me earlier and I just flat out refused to speak French in my frazzled state. I also called the English-speaking cab company. Sometimes you have to punk out. I did speak to the cab drivers in French though, so there.
Anyway, here I am in an even smaller apartment in a much chicer neighborhood. As much as I hate moving, I'm almost glad that I ended up having to sublet my last two weeks here. It would've been impossible to thoroughly clean my apartment with my stuff still in it, and I am determined to get all of my deposit back. This is feasible as long as the property manager doesn't notice the corner of the bed that my cat destroyed (whoops!). Also, moving is such an exorcism of any affection you once had for a place. Once you've spent days packing up all of your belongings, and then worked your ass off scrubbing and sweeping the place, you are just done with it. It's like being in a relationship and inciting a fight so that everyone will be angry instead of sad when you decide to break up. It's easier to let go of somewhere when the last feeling you had there was frustration and exhaustion.

Roma, pt. 3

So I may or may not be doing this because I'm avoiding writing a résumé for my History of the French class. Actually I don't mind the résumé, it's the fact that I signed up to present it in front of the class tomorrow. Melissa peer pressured me. Gah.

So on Saturday morning, Lauren and I woke up around early afternoon. Clearly, she did not go to Pompeii. After some eggs and toast I felt much better, but still needed a nap to recharge for that night. It was the first day of Passover and Lauren was going with her roommate to a special seder that unfortunately I couldn't get a last-minute invite to. I was a little bummed, but it turned out well because during the seder Nicole and I wandered around the city center and ended up at the Vatican. Not bad. After watching a hockey game, Mike met us at Piazza Navona. Actually, he sort of snuck up on us and I clutched my purse and braced myself for one of the famed Roman attacks Lauren is always talking about. Anyway, we ran around to two restaurants hoping to get in, but sadly 9 pm on a Saturday night is a very popular time for dinner. We ended up at a great place anyway, and I ate some pasta alla heart-attack (okay, maybe it's called pasta alla carbonara, but that's boring), which is apparently very Roman. That and about four glasses of the house wine, one of which I was tricked into drinking by Mike and his slight-of-hand glass-switching abilities. Needless to say, after dinner, I was feeling pretty good (I believe I said I felt like a noodle). We went over to Frigidarium, the favorite gelato place, and I got cinnamon and some crazy chocolate thing. Cinnamon ice cream, so amazing. Anyway, we then trucked over to Trastevere to a bar/eatery called Bir and Fud, which was coincidentally mentioned in the NY Times the next day. Anyway, there some people showed-up post seder but moved on, except for Ethan, who stuck with us and ended up accompanying Mike on a mish to buy hash from the drum circle on the bridge. Oh Rome. Lauren, Nicole and I opted to get some tasty treats from the bakery while we waited. Then we stood in the street and watched the guys drunkenly roll a spliff for a good...40 minutes. The word spliff makes me want to vomit. Anyway, after that it was back to Stairs, where I drank a shitty melon ball that was about 70% orange juice. Oh and I managed to totally shatter Ethan's heart, but apparently I'm better off.
That night ended with a civilized taxi ride back to Lauren's, and another 5 am bed time for whatever reason. Oh there were Italian guys there when we got home! I remember.
Sunday was some major laziness, I have to say. Lauren cooked a fabulous pasta meal of garlicky, peppery chicken and pepper jack cheese. Perhaps, in theory, the weirdest idea ever, but it worked out. Afterward, I took pictures while Lauren completely devoured a cantaloupe. Out of respect, I've only posted one of them above, just to give you an idea of what I witnessed. The afternoon was another nap, and then some drama about where to eat dinner. We ended up at a nearby placed called La Allegra, a rather trendy pasta place full of young gays. And GayTV showing top 40 videos on the TV screens. Hilarious. Anyway, the pasta was AMAZING. We had some gnocchi with meat sauce and some vodka sauce pasta with salmon and bacon (weird idea, but awesome). Then we hit up this tiramisu place, also very popular, to get some tiramisu in fun flavors like strawberry and banana-chocolate. Aaaand because one dessert is never enough, before going home we went to some super clandestine bakery to buy hot, fresh cornetti filled with nutella.
The next day was sadly my last, and I spent the morning on a site visit with one of Lauren's classes. Afterward, she had a few hours before her next class, so I got to see some more of the city center. First we had lunch at a place where I ate the most amazing calzone of my life, filled with cheese and proscuitto. Delicious, fried goodness. And of course back to Frigidarium afterward, followed by a quick trip to the Pantheon and the Trevi fountain. I then somehow found my way back to Lauren's. We picked out a bus and figured out where I would change to the metro, but there were no signals in the bus to tell me which stop was next, and only very fleeting views of the signs above the bus stops as we passed them. So I took a good guess when I thought I was close, and I was right. I ended up having more time before I need to leave than I thought, so I just packed and chilled for a while, then got myself back to Termini. When I got there, some movie or photo shoot or something was taking place right in front of the shuttle office, and I freaked until I realized I could just buy my ticket from the driver. So I did, and it was a quick ride to the airport, an uneventful flight, a looooooong ride from Beauvais to Paris, and then a slightly sketchy RER C trip back home. And of course, the cat meowed about me for a good 3 hours straight as punishment for having left him alone for 5 days.

In search of Paolo, pt. 2

OK, back to work. I had to take a short break and go to Austria for five days, but now it's Labor Day here in Froggieland and I'm pretty sure there's nothing out there for me to do (although obviously, I haven't left the apartment yet today).

Anyway. On Friday morning, Lauren and I woke up a little uncomfortably early in order to hit up the covered market. But first we went downstairs with Gilli to Cafe Asti so I could experience the cheap Italian breakfast. You see, in Italy, they have this thing called a "cornetto." The word is very similar to the French word for "cone," and so I assume that's what it means in Italian. So this thing is basically a weak ass croissant (sorry Italy, but it's inferior)...HOWEVER, they do an excellent job of redeeming themselves by filling it with Nutella or vanilla custard. Paired with a cheap ass cappuccino, it's delicious. Anyway, after that we went to the covered market to get some eggs and strawberries and such, then dropped the stuff off at home so that we could go buy some tights for Lauren. I've all but repressed my desire to shop, I think. It comes in waves a few times a year when I'm focused on other money ventures, such as now when I am diligently budgeting and saving money for vacations. Anyway, after a little shopping, we went back to Lauren's to wait for Nicole. We watched Juno and ate some leftover Chinese food, and when Nicole finally made it (after a couple hours of slight panic), we went out again to check out some stores and eat my first Italian gelato. We also got Lauren a bomb ass birthday dress. After all of that excitement, I was in major need of a nap.
After the snooze, we had a big getting-ready-slash-pre-gaming party. 7 girls, bad rap music, a shit-ton of make up and hairspray, plus some cheap sparkling wine with the label glued on upside down. I don't know what time we managed to finally leave, but we took the metro over to the Colosseum to get wasted in front of it. Love it.
With some surprisingly good 7 euro vodka and some blood orange Pellegrino, it was perhaps my best pre-gaming experience ever. After we were good and hammered, we headed over to dinner at a pizza place. We played some Jenga at the table, took some pictures...frankly I don't remember a whole lot vividly, especially my pizza. But I have no doubt that it was good.
After that we braved a few buses to get over to Trastevere, center of young, Roman debauchery. Somewhere along the way, Lauren's roommate stabbed a hole in the lid of a vodka bottle she couldn't get open. We ended up at Stairs, a great bar with a cavern-like downstairs area, and pretty much took it over.
Many cheap shots and delicious mixed drinks were had, including a grasshopper for myself. I made everyone try it and spent a good 10 minutes explaining why I wanted to marry it or something. At around 2:30 they finally kicked everyone out, so we waited in front of the steps and tried to strategize while drunk guys kicked broken glass down the stairs. I think I should've been more worried about this than I was -- thanks hard liquor! A few of the kiddies, including Lauren, had a site visit to Pompeii the next morning and so they called it a night. But Mike, Ethan, Nicole, Gilli and I went in search of I-don't-know-what. I think Gilli got a sandwich. Mike and I got some tasty things at a bakery. Then we braved the buses home again, where poor Lauren was really having a 21st birthday experience. So I sat on the bathroom floor with her and chugged a liter of water in moral support. Oh and I gave her Ethan's jacket to keep warm. At around 5 am, we finally got to sleep.