ORLY, je t'aime pas.

I think that if my life were truly a novel, this would be the opening scene. I won't tell you why, exactly, because perhaps one day I'll write out my life into a novel after all. I have four minutes remaining of internet access here at Orly, with nothing awaiting me for the next 12 hours but an intimidating talk with an Air France official about the flight I missed and many hours of studying for the finals I've missed.

I was right about one thing, at least: bringing an interesting novel onto a plane = for sure NOT getting any studying done. This airport cramps my style. Concentration is way down, but luckily not as bad as last time I made this journey. I'm older and wiser now, only a few hours from my 21st birthday (not sure how many hours, exactly, since I don't know which time zone to measure from.)

Well, there I went. No more internet connection. Guess I'll have to post this later.

Anyway my point was that this time around, at least, I know NOT to eat at the cheap kiosk, but to go ahead and spend the money for food that my body won't want to reject with the first bite. I know, also, that layovers are way more aggravating than plane flights (which I've come to really quite enjoy regardless of the duration), so I shouldn't be disillusioned into thinking that the next 11.5 hours are going to be anything but annoying. I also know now that yes, having a window seat really IS that much better than an aisle seat. I always knew I couldn't stand a middle seat, but turns out the aisle is almost as bad; I just craved something to lean against the whole time.

I believe I would make an excellent flight attendant. *After this sentence, I wrote a quite cunning and rather cutting description of my feelings about my experience with American flight attendants vs. French ones, but for the sake of patriotism and any future career opportunities, I believe that deleting this paragraph is the wiser choice. We'll just leave it at that: I would be good at the job. Which is really somewhat unfortunate considering the new grey dress my mom bought me two weeks ago (Anne was so right! Coming home really DOES equal a new wardrobe!), if worn with a brightly colored scarf such as the one I wore on the dress's maiden venture, can easily resemble a flight attendant's uniform. Foxy, I know.

I took back a couple pair of pants I've not been using in La Reunion, and my Indian design Tree of Life tapestry. In their places in my backpack I'm freshly stocked with all sorts of necessities for Madagascar, a few "unmentionables" for myself and Kira, since they are so very expensive on the island, a bottle of sea foam-green nail polish of Lauren's that I lusted after all week and she delivered to me at 11:15 the night before I left the States, a certain surprise for Martine, and a Chris Cleave book my mom bought me in the St. Louis airport. I'm wearing a different shirt, and I left the deck shoes at home, but otherwise I am in virtually the exact same state I was when I sat in this airport 2.5 weeks ago... physically at least. I admit that emotionally a few things have changed. Plus I've been well-fed the past several days to the point that I don't even mind returning to the same ol' same of the RestoU. I'm actually quite excited about chou chou and mango coming in my near future.

Okay okay. Quite enough rambling. I suppose I'll go do something productive-ish. I surely will miss all these beautiful stylish Europeans. It's much more fun to people-watch here in Paris than anywhere else - everyone is well-dressed but too busy to notice my staring.

"...afflictions eclipsed by glory."

The past two weeks have easily been the most epic of my life.

~Planned a trip halfway around the world in a matter of 9 hours.
~Navigated the Paris metro system with astounding ease. Ate scrambled eggs and got a full night's sleep during my 18-hr layover.
~The death of my father. Visitation. Funeral. Burial.
~Got to go to the last Friday Night Praise that Cameron and Chase played since now Andy is taking over as worship leader. It was incredible.
~May possibly have accidentally convinced one of my best friends NOT to move to Kansas City next year.
~Ate Gailey's breakfast. If you don't think this is epic, you obviously haven't eaten there.
~Saw two of my good friends from youth group get married in the same sanctuary my father's funeral was in 48 hours before. Beautiful. The reception was fun, but virtually all my old friends were in the wedding party and most had their fiances with them. I didn't cry during the whole father-daughter dance, but after it the bride came up and hugged me. Then I cried. Thanks Julianne.
~My flight to Paris got canceled AFTER I'd begun driving to St. Louis. Got the next available ticket: April 27th (the first was the 19th.)
~Found out that an old friend from Happening committed suicide.
~Found out that my former room mate's brother was in a motorcycle accident that easily could have killed him but didn't.
~Got my typhoid vaccination for the trip to Madagascar I'll be taking in May.
~Rescheduled all the final exams I'm missing right now, the first of which being on April 30th. Guess that rules out a 21st birthday party on the 29th, but that's okay. I'll be jet-lagged anyway.

So please, if anyone has any engagements, pregnancies, divorces, medical emergencies, or brilliant luck or devastating failures doing anything at all to announce, now is the time.

The Bunny Who Wanted To Be Different

An amazing thing happened today. My mother found, at the bottom of the box of Easter decorations, this astounding short story, written by yours truly in the second grade. (*This has been typed exactly how it was written.)

"The Bunny Who Wanted To Be Different" by Laura

Onec there was a long eared bunny. His name was Wil. Wil liked to paint. But Wil wanted to see the world so he would have something to paint. One day Wil saw a hole in a tree. Then a gremlin poped out and said, "Why are you sad?" the bunny said, "I want to go to France to paint. And then Wil's ears flaped. The gremlin said, "Ora vwa"* and off the bunny went. When he got there he didn't like it. He sat by a old tree and said, "I wish I was home." And in a flash of light he was home. And he lived happly ever after!

It doesn't get better than that. My favorite was that I knew how to say "au revoir," but obviously had no idea how to spell it.

Trains, Planes, and Automobiles. Literally.

Written 10am Tuesday, Paris time. La Reunion: 12pm. Missouri: 3am.

Ours is a world that thrives on contrast. Philosophically profound and pleasing to the eye, we love seeing blue against orange (like the fire-sun of morning rising over the ocean), green against brown (and every imaginable hue in between in the deepest of forests), black against white (have you ever seen a Ugandan smile?) I think Paris, especially, is a city of black and white, which is why someone out there is making a ton of money on black and white photography used for postcards.

Any comprehensive, generalized idea of the French public transportation system is something I know nothing about: I have had two ENTIRELY different experiences, and my Reunionized self has become so accustomed to the Car Jaune (similar to the ones we used to go on choir trips on, identical on the inside with that horrible zigzag upholstery, but with unmistakable solid sunshine yellow exteriors), to clapping for my stop, for always standing, standing, waiting, waiting, and usually being mistaken for a German by the native creoles and looked at in the way that country boys look at city girls - with a bit of fascination and a great deal of amusement. I admit I feel a little more in my element among the Parisians, clad in neutrals and helpful enough if asked, but will remain entirely indifferent to you until your initial, proactive contact.

Everyone I encounter is efficient and fashionable, quick-stepped, navigating the metro system without a second glance a the signs pointing this way and that. By my fourth connection, I felt like I was one of them - entirely the same in my neutral colors and impatient manor, only slightly less tight-lipped and significantly more open-eyed.

They talk in books and movies about something happening, "and the he/she was on the next plane/train/bus out of there/home/to ____." Well congrats, self, you just make your life a little more like a movie. Saturday morning I woke to find messages telling me of my dad's poor state of health. All of Saturday I thought "I wish I could be there, but at least we already decided I wouldn't go home if anything happened. At least I don't have to make a decision at this point." Then Sunday brought a surprise. Along with news informing me that Dad was continuing to deteriorate, I found another message: Icthus, my community and spiritual family, had been praying and decided they wanted to bring me home so I could be there, both for me and for my family. I spent the entire day waiting to hear my mom and sister's opinions, praying, considering... At 10pm Sunday night I thought this decision was beyond me, that I was so torn, and then the reassurance came.

I think that especially among Christians, we like to make people make decisions on their own. "Follow your heart. Listen to God." Yeah, that's good advice. But the problem is that the heart is sometimes in two places at once, and we are deafened to God's voice by fear or expectations. After with a little loving encouragement and the characteristic Bible reference, Icthus flat out TOLD me to come home. OKay. Done.

Since then, everything has fallen into place. I'm currently sitting in Charles de Gaulle airport, Gate 21, well rested, well watered (WHY isn't there a toilet on this side of the security checkpoint?!), and just a little hungry. In something like 14 hours I'll be in St. Louis, hugging three of the sweetest, strongest, most beautiful friends anyone could ever ask for. Also, they've promised me Mexican food. Yes!

I love you all, and I'll see you very soon.

PS. It BETTER be warmer in Missouri than here. I'm freezing. 7 degrees Celsius?! Come on.

Rester = to stay

God is my shepherd, I won't be wanting.
He makes me REST
in fields of green, with quiet streams.
Even while I'm walking through the valley of death and dying,
I will not fear
Cause you are with me, You're always with me.

Got a case o' the Thursdays

Details of my day:

00:01- In the Bar de la Marine in St. Gilles watching soccer with Martine and the guys. Tried a mojito. Didn't like it.
03:00 - Cuddle up in my sleeping bag for a peaceful night's rest on the beach, surrounded by a full stary night, huge waves lapping at the sand 20 yards away, and seven friends of various nationalites, listening to Austrian hip hop.
4:45 - Wake up, roll up my sleeping bag, feel the tension in my arms and back from rock climbing yesterday, and walk to the bus stop. Miss the Saint Denis express by about 2 minutes, wait for 25 minutes for the never-ending C line. Sleep on the bus.
6:22-Arrive in St. Denis, consume some cafe au lait and a croissant waiting for the bus back to campus. It doesn't come. I wait for the next one. 20 minutes late.
7:00 - Class starts. I'm still on the bus.
7:36- Arrive in class: luckily one with a professor whose motto is "better late than never!"
9:22 - Almost done with the second class of the day. Accidentally drool on myself a little.
10:00- Sit in my room during the ONLY free time I have all day, writing my blog rather than sleeping because I feel too beachy and caffeinated to sleep, and they've turned the water off in my building for the day to do work on the pipes. Again.
~Future~
11:15 - Meet my English teaching partner, walk to the elementary school we teach at, teach an hour of English.
13:00 - Class starts. I'm still teaching.
13:45 - I arrive at class, likely without a chair, sandwich in hand for having not yet eaten lunch.
16:00- Go straight from one classroom to another for my fourth class of the day.
18:00 - Go from that fourth class to a meeting/training session for teaching English.
19:30- Supper in the University cafeteria.
20:30- Begin the first of two literary translations of tomorrow morning's homework.

From this point on, there's really no telling what order anything goes in, but I imagine it will involve something along the lines of translation, sleep, translation, sleep, sleep, sleep.

So there you go, a day in the life. I'm loving it, but I am SO glad to say that the blessed routine will be entirely abandoned in three weeks' time with the conclusion of the semester!

OH, and one more thing: I literally saw the first peak of the sun over the horizon from the bus station this morning. I've never seen the sunrise over the water before, and it was an incredible assurance that yes, this is precisely where I'm supposed to be.

EDIT: Here's what ACTUALLY happened from 11am on.
11:00- Run to a friend's room in the next building over to wash up and fill up my water bottles.
11:15-Meet my partner, teach English, comme prevue.
13:15- Leave the elementary school, walk back to the Hotel de Region, get a chicken sandwich, wait for the bus.
13:17 - Get told by a woman on the bus that the address on the paper I'm holding is located at the current bus stop (Not where I was thinking I was going...) Virtually get kicked off the bus.
13:22- Enter the hospital, find out I'm in the wrong place. Bus lady was mistaken.
...ask directions...bus... walk....ask directions...bus...
15:15 - Enter third medical facility of the day to find out that the first appointment I'd missed MUST be taken care of before going to the second. Told to come back tomorrow morning.
...wait for and interminably long time for the bus....bus...walk...
16:45- Enter Xray clinic. Wait. Get a chest x-ray. Wait more.
17:30- Leave clinic, x-ray results in hand, enter grocery store.
...shop...wait...bus...walk...
19:30- Food.
20:30- Still haven't showered. Will comes over to use my Skype. Thus commences a rather pleasant end to a rather unpleasant day.
1:20 am Friday - Now.

...sleep....

I owe ya one.

I've officially spent my first major holiday away from home. It's not too bad though- crepes with Dakatine/Nutella and pasta with pesto sauce made for quite the delicious post-noon "Brunch."

The Easter holidays have brought quite a change to my little way of life on this island. As opposed to my normally very-productive-rather-active-altogether-distracted self, the past four days have been absolutely nothing but beach, food, reading (for fun!), lack of internet access (and therefore lack of ability to work), and lack of open places to go away from the Cite. Also, I literally think a good 50% of my friends have visitors from their home countries right now-family or significant others. It's kind of exciting in a way, living vicariously through their affectionate sentiments, but also rather boring, since after all, half my friends are spending LESS time with me and MORE time with their families! What scandal.

One really unique thing I DID do this weekend, though: ate a filet of kangaroo. A lovely little group of 14 of my friends and I went to the esteemed Roland Garros restaurant in downtown Saint Denis, and it was positively great to eat something different from rice, rice, rice, fish, fish, fish. I was skeptical about the idea of kangaroo meat, but I can proudly boast that I think I ordered the best thing on the menu. It's a very dark meat, rather tender, and was served in a sweet dark sauce with mushrooms, accompanied by green beans, tomato, and seasoned potatoes. Add a little red wine, then some dessert of coffee and chocolate ice cream, and Laura went home a happy girl. The evening was definitely a splurge, but totally worth it. (For any of my non-anglophone amigos reading this, a splurge is when you spend more money that you can really justify spending on something luxurious.)

Currently reading: English: John Piper's A Hunger for God, W. S. Maugham's Of Human Bondage, and, newly begun, Yann Martel's Life of Pi. French: Harry Potter et le Prisonnier d'Azkaban. Also, before returning it to the library, I read a bit of a book on Therevada Buddhism in Southeast Asia, and the first two chapters were quite fascinating. Came across the following description:

"[...the monk] has always existed for the world."

I immediately had to put the book down and address the question barking in my mind: Who do I exist for? I know the answer I'd LIKE to respond with: Christ. And certainly I've made the decision to serve Him, at least in ways that are convenient for me. That's the thing: is my entire existence designed and decidedly FOR HIM? The issue, you see, is that I actually love life quite a bit! I'm having a blast, and it just so happens to be quite convenient with my way of thinking to carry out my actions in this life as somewhat consistent with Christian theology. But is that EXISTING FOR God? No, it's not. My purpose is ultimately selfish, even if kind enough in approach.

In coming to this random little island in the Indian Ocean, I had ever intention of learning dependence while here, and while I've certainly learned a great deal, some of which while being dependent on God, I'm not sure I can say I've really learned dependence. I have a comfort zone here, even, with my fellow foreign students and my lap top and my routine. It's quite interesting to realize that I've forgotten what the word ministry is supposed to look like, if I ever really knew in the first place.

The long and short of it is that I've been entirely taken aback by how different my way of thinking is, even when my way of life isn't that dissimilar to the way I've always done things. I do believe I'm growing. Learning, even. Go figure.