Midori, sans liqueur.

I always associated the moniker, “The City of Light” / “La Ville-Lumière” with Paris’ role in the Enlightenment era, but it’s also fairly literal. For a city whose daylight hours span only from 8:40am to 5pm, Paris is an extremely light-happy city.

At 1am, The Eiffel Tower becomes naught but a tall aircraft warning light as it shuts off for the night, but the glow of the city goes on. The buildings’ outlines remain clear against the reddish light-polluted sky til 3am, and even now they’re still fairly visible. All the windows are dark, but the streetlamps keep the amber tint alive.

Things are different here.

Yes, duh, but it’s always interesting to note. A lot of the Parisians I’ve talked to can be outwardly disdainful of Americans or American policies, but at the same time think that America is a warm place, a place where you can still attain the American Dream. They think it’s easy. (Have they watched the news recently? I wonder.)

A coworker today mentioned how people in America say hello, ask how you’re doing, and bring housewarming gifts when you move in. The waiters actually come to serve you. Here, they don’t give a fuck. She said, “You must think Paris is so cold.”

Problem is, I’m from the tristate and I work in New York. Parisians to me are too chatty, too in your face. You say “bonjour” the moment you walk in a store. When you get in the elevator, when you pass someone in your building. Everywhere. When someone says “merci” and you don’t reply “de rien”, they’ll repeat merci several times and then look at you quizzically, expectantly as if you’re an actor who’s just forgotten his lines. Then you bid them good day or afternoon or night. Paris might lack hospitality compared to the rest of the US, but it certainly isn’t cold compared to where I’m from. Or Boston. Or LA.

And the American Dream… My parents are immigrants, but I don’t think any of us have ever thought about such a thing in concept or in passing. I think about the news, and these days, it seems anything but easy to live in America. Debt. Unemployment. Education woes. Social tensions. Social injustices. Our country is huge, our needs as a people span the entire spectrum, we have so much representation that it feels like we have no representation, and what works for me is rarely what works for someone just one town away, much less one state away. Someone’s protection is my loss of freedom. My freedom is someone’s source of ire or disdain. And yet, we have to elect as a country, stand together as a country, and try to succeed as a country.

America is certainly no utterly awful place to be. I know I seem ungrateful, but honestly speaking, I don’t know how anyone can call that a dream.

Maybe it’s the taxes.

but it must be said: I really do have quite the fantastic boyfriend. Through most all of the crazinesses - whether of the last two years, last two semesters, or last two weeks - he’s been there to support me with a good sensible head and a quirkywittycute sense of humor that always gets me smiling. And he’s a huge nerd, and awfully cute, and that never hurt either.

[I’m sorry, I know you probably cringed reading that. I’m cringing for the utter smooshy-ness myself as I post, but I’m truly so grateful.

I will now proceed to rescind my own blogging privileges.]

The first night is always lonely; People aren’t here yet, or they are, but are dead tired just like you. So you hole up in your hotel room and prep for tomorrow, essentially prepping to prep the show. You start finding the humor in statements like that one, too.

But it’s the feeling of never settling - Always coming “home” to an empty closet with the folded laundry bag, ironing board, packaged slippers, and hanging all the things that might wrinkle if left in your suitcase, one by one. It’s unwrapping a new hand soap every time. It’s the sterility of the room, the feeling of having too much space because there’s so little actually /in/ the room.

It’s really just being alone and hoping someday you’ll be going home to a full closet and a lived-in room, and maybe even someone to welcome you back.

Tomorrow, of course, will be different - Lots and lots of people I’ll be ecstatic to see again… But for now, it’s me, this room, my suitcase, and an internet connection. The umpteenth first night.