So, I’m not sure how September is going in other parts of the world, but it seems Time has abandoned August’s “slow crawl” setting, opting instead for “Racing impossibly fast”.
My weekends have been full of activites, and my weekdays are spent planning. A little job searching here and there, working on putting all of my writing together, trying to find cheap flights home and trying to make those weekend trips that everyone tells you to take “because you are all the way over here anyway” happen. If I can close bank accounts, go through all of my stuff, and move out of my apartment in the next two weeks, hopefully they will.
Crossing things off the list is going better than I expected it would. I have had days where I just feel like being lazy on a Saturday morning and sitting in a cafe, or even at home, but I am forcing myself out the door and am completely indulging in the city. Over the past little while, I have had a delicious Indian dinner, a bottle of wine at Chez Justine, went to the Hammam at the Mosque (a series of steam rooms, Ladies only!), bought the book where Hemingway describes Shakespeare and Co. AT Shakespeare and Co. and last weekend I went to a hip hop class. I have so many stories to tell about each one of these experiences, and maybe I will tell them retroactively, but for now I am going to tell you about taking dance, in France.
I had been tipped off a few times about the Centre de danse in the Marais. I didn’t know what to picture exactly, but after circling the block a few times, I finally walked into a courtyard and it felt like I heard dance spilling out of every window on every story. Ballet music floated over top of flamenco shoes, mixing beats with live drumming… I was seriously just so happy even being there, I half wondered if anyone would notice if I just ‘hung out’. There was a cafe in the middle of the courtyard, and after asking at the front desk where the hip hop class was, I followed a set of staircases that seemed to be leading me to an attic. Instead, after opening and closing a series of doors, I found what I was looking for. Girls of all shapes and sizes (no prima ballerinas here) wearing baggy sweats and looking too cool for school.
YES. HIP HOP. We meet again.
I went back to dance a few years ago after a long hiatus, and I am absolutely in love with hip hop.
I completely accept that I look ridiculous.
So I stood there waiting with the others, and was so excited and so completely nervous about how the next hour and a half was going to play out. Finally, the crowd started moving into a teeny studio, and the instructor, THE COOLEST GUY ever, showed up in a bright red addidas track suit. He walked over to the stereo, fiddled with it for awhile, and suddenly the small space was full of AWESOME. I don’t know how else to describe it.
I tried to blend into the back lines, and then it was go time.
It ran pretty much as any other class would, and I kind of forgot that everything was happening in French actually. Well, that is until at one point, he told me to straigthten my legs instead of bend them. I can’t even remember what the word was, but overall he was a great teacher, and I wish that I could have gone every week while I was here, but at about $40 CAD a class, it would add up quickly.
Anyway, if nothing else, it made me excited to start dancing again when I get home, which is happening in the middle of October.
All in all, I am feeling really good about it. Aside from being a bit worried about finding work, and sad to be saying “so long” to those I’m close to here, I can’t wait to see PC, and to live in the same city (let alone the same house!) again. I have about one month left or so, and with the chill in the air and the colors changing, it seems to feel like the right time to move on.
In other news, I have another old roomate coming to visit. She arrives on Oct. 1, and I will have finished up work at the animation studio. I think Portugal is going to be in our future, but with our combined chaotic states and tendencies to generally lead our lives in disarray, this could change at the drop of a chapeau.
I will keep you (and myself)…posted.
xo
