Smooth Criminal

Last week I was driving the girls to their afterschool activities to a neighbouring village. As we were coming up to the roundabout one of the girls says “Oooh look police”. To my surprise there were 2 cop cars and about 7 policemen/woman standing around the roundabout stopping people. So I just continued driving and realized that they were checking the opposing traffic (i.e after dropping the girls off I would potentially be stopped by them). Now this was probably just an alcohol barrier thing that they do all the time in all different countries. So as we passed by I started to think of what I would say in my broken French (I definitely don’t want to seem drunk due to bad language skills) and then started thinking about the documents I would have to give them: car insurance, drivers license… drivers license! I had forgotten my drivers license at home! All I had taken were the house keys.  So now I am in a panic and trying to think how can I explain that I just live in the next village over and that I can drive back here in 5 minutes and prove that I am no weird foreigner driving kids in a van. Or maybe I’ll just wait at the girls’ activities for 30 minutes, by that time surely the police would leave. Then my brain kicked in, what if I just evade them by going around that village? So once I dropped off the girls I just followed random signs that took me to my neighbouring village. My fear was that A) the police would realize people might do this and be posted at all neighbouring roads or B) It turns out the road I take takes me to the same road the police are on. Luckily I had turned out to come out on the road exactly parallel to the road the police were on. Now every time I leave the house I remember to take my license, even if it’s a place down the road... I’m so paranoid.

Of course Easter was last weekend. By Sunday the girls had so much chocolate they could probably have it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a full month. I figured this was “family time” so I just spent the time in Paris the whole long weekend. Who wants some stranger hanging around while you catch up with all extended family, and also I’d have felt really out of place, not only because I am not related but that I don’t even speak the same language.

At one point in the weekend, a friend and I went to Shakespeare and Company to a writing workshop. After writing a piece the last thing I wanted to hear was “this is sharing time now”. I swear I was just going to burst into tears at how nervous I was. I don’t mind performing in front of people or being the center of attention when I have a good experience story to tell, but when I have to share something that is so close to me and that I had put so much emotion into… yeah I don’t want to. But people were very positive after my read, and had genuinely enjoyed my piece. I think though because the piece was so close to experiences I’ve had I’d prefer to do a completely separate blog post on it, just to explain where it stems from, or not… again telling stories is one thing, sharing emotions through art is a completely vulnerable part of me that I don’t know if I feel comfortable sharing with people other than myself.

Otherwise the weekend was as usual: meet new cool folks, eat lots of good Parisian food that I can’t afford, and just have a wonderful time in Paris.

I finally went to the Pompidou... it was alright

But at least I became a rockstar for 5 seconds.

Also I was contacted by my University to let me know I have been officially accepted into my Masters program (yay!) but that I have a different name on my application compared to my transcript. Damn it Lithuanian spelling! Why do you put random “J’s” in area’s where they should not exist! So right now I am registered as two different people under the same last name… oops.

Oh also had to say goodbye to a friend yesterday. While we had a wonderful time eating lunch and then drinking wine by the Pantheon, it was still bittersweet when you hear “That was a lovely time” in a British accent one last time. But unfortunately not everyone comes to Paris permanently. Out of our entire Wednesday gang only one person will stay in France! And they aren’t even au pairs!