Tonight I said goodbye to my mother. For the second time. The first was in Seattle in October, now it's Paris in December. It is not sadness I feel, it's panic, a deep, hidden, terrifying panic. I am going to a place where I know no one. In my bag there's a varitable pharmacy of substances ranging from homeopathics to corti-steroids and beyond. The thought that I have no fucking clue what I am doing keeps trying to surface despite my attempts to push it down, bury it beneath, beneath what? The panic? The fear? The inadequacy? It is natural, I suppose, to have self doubt appear in great force when one leaves the familiar, especially one's own mother. Here's to it then, if it can't be avoided!

It only occurs to me now that most people don't leave their jobs to travel different continents and volunteer with people halfway across the earth. But just as I felt earlier this spring, I am far more terrified of NOT going to Kenya than I am of going. This is an intentional sharp turn from the norm. Not to differentiate myself from the norm, but to shape myself as a person, and stretch myself in new ways, test my own boundaries. It is a deeply personal choice that I feel called to make and act upon in the best way I can.

These are the things that keep twisting in my head, blinding me for moments. I don't feel completely present. Look where I am!! Wake up.

So Christmas in Paris was nice. Not exactly what anyone expected, but it was filled with good food and warmth, which are the most important things anyway right? Mom and I got colds, but I rested quite a bit, both out of necessity and my paranoia about being healthy before I leave for Kenya.


The supermarket here was insane, period. It was an experience though. The Parisians definitely have perfected the art of gourmet food in supermarkets, the spread was spectacular. All the poultry is displayed with their heads and some feathers, due to the wide variety of birds. I even saw a whole rabbit on display in the butcher's case. The fruit is beautifully displayed and the cheese is positively smelly. It took me a moment to realize where the smell originated because at first I thought it was rotting produce, but no, it was definitely the cheese, and LOTs of it. The crazy thing is we only went into the very front of the store, there were still aisles and aisles we didn't even visit. And still, there were magnifiscent displays of chocolate, teas, spices, and herbs. All I can say is .... OMG, that's a lot of food.

One could argue that it is a gross display of over opulance, and they'd be pretty accurate except for... the church we visited today. It was Sacre couers (hahaha, spelling atrocities!!) in Monmartre where Amelie was filmed. The church itself was beautiful, but upon entering it I wanted to start shouting. It is possible this is because of the noise restriction, but it was also because there was an overwhelming amount of money practically growing from the walls. It struck me as absurd. Yes, I know the Catholic church does a lot of great charity work all over the world, but they could do SO much more. The church has so much bloody money it is almost sickening.  But then we went to an Abbey nearby and it was much more peaceful and it felt more sacred.  Mom and I lit candles, it was really beautiful.  Here are a couple of pics of the stained glass windows - Mom said they were 12th century.  Sacre Cours looks lovely at night from outside.