Still a Silly Lil Girl

I may have pursued my dream. I may have embarked on an adventure in a foreign land all by myself. I may be living the life I dreamed of us a child, writing whatever I so choose in this paradise of my youth. But I am still a girl.


I’m reminded of the Alchemist – as I so often am. There is a quote from a tough woman excusing her tears that reads simply, “I may be a woman of the desert, but I remain a woman none-the-less.”


I had a date today. Olivier, the brother of Jerome, one of the owners of Le P’tit Club, has been asking me out since his arrival over a week ago. As far as I was concerned, he – like most French men – was really after only one thing, so I continuously denied his requests. I finally grew so tired of rejecting that I agreed – as long as it was on my terms. I needed to eat somewhere safe, somewhere that I was comfortable, somewhere where the people knew me and looked out for me. L’Esquinade.

To my surprise, it went remarkably well. It was so wonderful to have someone order the best wine on the menu and know why it was the best, and then pour every glass for me and drop every bit of ice in it without giving me a change to even consider doing it myself. It was great to eat with someone who could order for the both of us – in French – and yet carry on playful and intricate conversations in English. It was amazing to laugh with someone about intellectual jokes and engage in a battle of wits.

And yet, for being as impressed as I was, I didn’t even kiss poor Olivier goodbye. What can I say; I’m a hard woman these days…

But he understands. He plays the same games I do. He has a split personality, loves the same things, has the same overwhelming anxiety and passion for life. He can’t stay in one place for too long. He’s a Gemini. As much as I never believed that astrological shit before, I’ve grown to be able to identify someone of my sign by the first conversation. Maybe it is true. I realized it as he was taunting me, explaining his inner workings to me and as I listened, I felt like he was describing myself.

“When were you born?”

“May 30.”

“Gemini?”

He pulled down on the collar of his shirt, revealing a tattoo of the twins underneath his collarbone. I smiled. Showed him my necklace in response.

Weird how that stuff works…

He told me that I was amazingly confident, though I could only laugh in response. For the amount of embarrassing moments I can recall in the past 24hours, confidence is not really what I had in mind. Yesterday I asked the man serving my lunch for a skirt instead of a straw, “jupe” instead of “pipe.” (Needless to say, he never brought me the straw.) I accepted an awkward love gift with a sour smile and uncomfortable shift in my seat. I helped decipher a message in English for my friend Stephen, saying all along how poorly written it was, only to discover it was he who wrote it. I had to walk across the public beach to L’Esquinade to retrieve the top of my bathing suit that I had forgotten and the plaginist “so kindly” held on to. These are all occurrences to make your cheeks turn red, normal events for living in a strange land. I have been humbled – the air of having confidence comes only from knowing mortification may arrive at any moment.

But I’m now home safe, engulfed in the warming welcomeness of Ludo & Patricia and the rest of the family here at Chez Michel. I’m curled up in my favorite corner of the sunroom with my big baby of a dog, protected from the reality seeping through the valley below. All I have to do for the rest of the evening is sit here and write, looking past the giant purple flowers outside to the blue green ocean beyond, or lay out on the hammock to finish my current book, or take a small siesta in my attic room with the sea breeze dancing across my sheets. It’s going to be a tough afternoon. And tonight, all I have planned is head to Le P’tit Club and see if I am owed a kiss… or at least a drink.