seul, esseulé - adj. lonely, alone, forsaken

Today, I was lonely. Too lonely to just sit in this house with people I don’t know. I lasted until about 10:30 and then I had to leave, so I hopped on my scooter determined to keep myself occupied. I don’t know if I had a destination when I got on my big bike or if I just wanted to drive around, but I found myself uncontrollably drawn towards Nikki Beach – the big American hang out. I just felt so alone and out of my place; I was an American in a foreign land on the 4th of July and my family left to be replaced by complete strangers. I thought that if I heard something familiar, I heard someone talk like me, I heard Americans and were with Americans, I’d be happy. I really just wanted a hug.

As I drove down the dark, winding Route du Plage, the heavens opened up. Hard drops of rain fell from the sky and beat against my bare skin, feeling like rock and debris rather than soft bits of water. The wet pavement smelled like death to me; all I could hear were the warnings of my friends saying that the roads here become like oil when their wet, and scooters are dangerous.

I made it about halfway back to my house before it started pouring, so I stopped in at the P’tit Club. The owner is so kind. I had so much fun. I met a lot of people, including two kids from England and some wonderful French men. I spoke so much French and laughed a lot. It was great, really great. I was happy.



And then I broke my scooter. In the rain, the wet gravel caused my scooter to slip a little bit and the lock got caught on the wheel. I don’t know what I was thinking – God, I honestly feel so stupid right now – but I figured that if I could turn the wheel, the lock would get unstuck. Wrong. Starting the engine and trying to move the bike only got the lock stuck further, so stuck I couldn’t move it at all. I was on my knees in my short skirt and high heels, crawling around in the mud, dripping from the rain. I couldn’t fix it. I realized I’d have to leave the scooter and walk home, hopefully finding someone to get the lock out in the morning.

I dragged my sorry ass into the bar and, looking quite pathetic all dirty and soaking wet, I told the owner I had to leave my scooter. He insisted on giving me a ride. He was very sweet to take me home; of course as I kissed him goodbye (I was really lonely! And he’s so nice! AND cute!) I thought that maybe I wouldn’t be getting a job there after all…

But shit, I feel stupid. I broke my scooter, I’m all alone, and I can’t get a hold of my family. Did their plane make it home ok? Did I just destroy a thousand dollar investment? Will I ever find a job???

Ugh… I have that awful pit in my stomach. I’m terribly embarrassed about much of my behavior tonight. My heart is heavy. And I don’t have a place to stay for the last two weeks of July; if I could afford it I would go home. I’d go back to the States for a two week vacation. But I can’t, and I’m determined to stay here, to learn French. Even if today was a really bad day.

I guess you have to hit rock bottom before you can soar higher. I just feel like I’ve already hit rock bottom many times…