What To Do? What To Do? What To Do?

Next.

I had really believed that once I was in Paris I would just be staying in Paris.

Oh, maybe I would move around a few of the arrondissements until I settled in place, then life would unfold, and I would be here for the next ten years.

Fantasy land.

Reality land is much different.

I was thinking about that today as I reviewed a conversation with my room-mate in my head–he pointed out to me that I have not been on vacation here.  I have been trying to live here.

Excuse me, I have been living here.

I am not on a vacation and I have put in enormous amounts of energy to make this work.

I have struggled.

I have not surrendered.

Until recently.

Yesterday when the final moment tick tocked down and the wallet was opened and the ticket was bought.  I cried a bit, then I had a head ache, then I laughed a bit, then I cried some more, then there was the hugging.

Then I got a gift from the Universe.

Two actually.

First was an invite to come to Rome.

Friend of a friend who I met over the Christmas holidays, who happened to be room-mates with a wonderful friend of mine back in San Francisco (who I met a Burning Man five and a half years ago) and we struck up a conversation and hung out one evening in Paris over dinner, which led to more talks, another dinner, and a walk with some fellow travelers around the Opera area one night.

She read my Facecrack page, as I updated it, begrudgingly, after I got the confirmation on the ticket, and said, “we should see each other before you go, either I come up to Paris or you come down to Rome.”

Now, I have never been to Rome.

A Roman holiday could be quite lovely.

I hear they have a new fearless leader.

The second thing that I saw happen was a hit on my “Patronage” post.

When this happens, which is not as frequently as I would like, but far more frequent than I imagined it would, it means that some one has read my blog about asking for help.

Yes, that is correct, a darling friend in San Francisco sent me 100 Euro and said, “go do something fun with it.”

Perhaps knowing that I would be loath to spend it on something frivolous.

Which is true.

My friend in Rome said these days work best for me.

I checked them out and the cost to go is a bit more than what I had planned on them being–200 Euro instead of the 70 Euro I had thought it would be.

Thello Trains runs a special 35 Euro rate one way from Paris to Rome via sleeper train.

Which sounds way more romantic than it really is.

Believe me, the photographs are not depicting luxury travel at 35 Euro a night.

The train company also apparently has a very limited amount of these berths.

I did not purchase the tickets.

My internet here at the house today has been patchy at best, you should have seen the hilarious Skype session I had earlier, it was in slow motion, I laughed a lot, flirted a bit, and got flustered a lot as well, all in what felt like stop time animation.

I am uncertain if it has to do with the construction happening in the courtyard, but the internet for the apartment is down completely.  I am on the SFR Wifi, which is heavily trafficked and slow.

Regardless the connection is trash.

I got off the Thello site and started attempting to research further the tickets, they do not provide the only train from Paris to Rome.  I may also try to hook up a plane ticket there and back, that may be the quickest way and cheaper.

I am hitting the pause button for tonight, but I do believe I will take up my friend on the offer of a place to stay.  Her only requirement is that I bring a fridge magnet from Paris for the room-mates who collect them.

Done.

If the ticket ends up being a little more, well, I did get asked to babysit tomorrow and Saturday.  I could swing the remainder.  It would seem a shame to not go to Rome for a few days if I can do so.  How many people get the offer of a two night stay in Rome for the cost of a refrigerator magnet?

Not many I am supposing.

Say yes to the Universe, I hear the voice saying in my heart.

This is a good voice, it is in my heart, not from my head.

Say yes, Carmen, you will be taken care of.

Yes.

I will buy the tickets.

Yes I will go to Rome.

I hear they have some nice paintings there.

I do not have to grasp and clutch and hold tight onto the money out of fear.

I can open my hands up and say, yes please, and thank you very much.

I accept these gifts.

All these gifts, the presents of being in the moment, here in Paris, where I am for a little while yet.  There was a reason I was brought here.  It may have only been to be in Paris for six months, that is no little reason.

It may have been to strike up a conversation with a flirt bucket in New York.

It may have been so that I was of service to a few people.

Or that I needed to see that art there, go for that walk here, taste this, smell that, thousands of moments, the feel of snow falling on my face in Paris as I crossed Pont Alma, the sound of birds in the woods in Chambourcy, the laughter of little French children swarming around a playground.

I don’t know.

I don’t care.

I don’t have to know what to do or where to go, actually, I am being told quite distinctly, quite loudly.

Go to Rome.

Go to San Francisco.

Go to New York.

See what happens when you get there and do the next action in front of you.

Enjoy the moment.

And then write about it.

Tags: faith, New York, Paris, postaday, Rome, Thello Trains, travel, writing