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Going Home

I am currently on a "tourist" visa in France. That means that every three months, I need to exit the country and re-enter to go through customs. This seems to be standard procedure worldwide and I have heard the same routine for friends of mine in the US who are non-citizens. Helmut has been telling me that this is unimportant because I am an American who is not looking for support from the state and there should be no problem. I am always a bit leery when he says "should be" because there is no real recovery when this assumptions turns out to be off or plain wrong. As I started researching other more permanent solutions to the immigration issue, I see again and again that you should never overstay the 3-month limit and there are dire consequences throughout the EU if you do. I am now 3 weeks over my 3-months. Looks like it is time to take a trip. 

I can go anywhere in the world that will stamp my passport, but I am running into a problem in that I don't want to go to the places that will stamp. Russia is out (mainly because of their anti-gay stance), I don't know Morocco, Africa and Asia are too exotic. What this boils down to is that I am off to NYC again. Not a bad thing but my heart is not in it. I am taking it as a working trip. I thought when I moved to Paris I would easily get clothes here. Well, not as easy as I thought. The French are a tiny race, and finding my size here is not easy. So, given all this (and the fact I had given away all my summer clothes), time for a road trip. 

ASIDE: traveler warning: if you are over 5'3" and over 100 lbs. (in other words, not French), do NOT book a flight on the French XL airlines. I am not claustrophobic, but the seats are so close that you cannot sit in the seats with you knees straight ahead. The distance between the end of your armrest and the seat ahead of you is about 6". Let that sink in... Their prices are very tempting, but don't do it! If you are ever stuck and have to buy an XL ticket, immediately upgrade for legroom at checkin. It increases the cost of your ticket by about $100 but it is essential.

While getting to NYC is easy, finding lodging can be tricky. I have friends who say I can come anytime, but you have to be sure. My first request to my friend Lauren came back negative because someone else was taking advantage of her generosity and my second because of illness. Luckily my friend Leslie came through (yeah!). So, all I have left is to find that elusive airplane ticket. Found a good price, so off I go for a week.

I arrive in NYC and set up some dates for dinners and theater (my days will be filled with shopping to get clothes). I am bothered by ghosts here though. I did not expect it, but whenever I go near my old neighborhood I have nothing but memories. They are not bad but I am not a backward-looking person. I had a music teacher who gave me very good advice: no matter how great the success or how miserable the failure, just keep looking forward. Here, though, I can't seem to help myself. I go to have breakfast with my neighbor Lauren, and I can't help think of my ex (Jim) and the apartment. I go to check on some odds-and-ends in the apartment (through the kindness of my renter) and I keep thinking of happier times in the apartment. Another day, I go to my storage unit in the basement of the building and I think of the many times I had gone down to get things, while Jim was upstairs. There is a level of yearning, a sadness, a warmth but mostly it is uncomfortable. Most importantly, I get the feeling that I am in the wrong place.

But, having said that, I had a lovely time: I saw three theater pieces, got all the clothes I needed and visited with friends, some unexpected and not the "normal" choices. Spending time with my friend and host Leslie, was an unexpected joy; we have gotten much closer for this time and I am grateful for the lodging and the friendship. 

So, I am going home to Paris now. I think the uncomfortable feelings are really from the fact that I have grown and changed but not in NYC. That means that when I return to NYC, I revert back to that time and lose the changes (for a moment). I know every twist and turn, every piece of gum o the sidewalk, but it is not my home anymore. None of it is bad, or good, it just "is." Back to my quilts, singing in the Melomen, learning French; you know, my life.

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