Family...

I haven’t been back to Paris in 13 years or so, and haven’t seen my dad’s older brother for approximately 10.  The last time I saw him, he was visiting my parents in Los Angeles, and I believe I saw him for a day of his two-week trip. 

One of the reasons I had no interest in coming to visit Paris was because I didn’t like being told what to do (well, I still don’t, but…). That sounds weird, but every time I came to Paris, I wouldn’t get the chance to relax and walk around the city on my own (given I was 16 or 17 the last time I was here).  We had to have every meal at my uncle’s house; we had to stay where he said; we had to wake up when he said; we had to sightsee where he said; etc. Looking back now, it really wasn’t so bad. I don’t know what I really wanted or expected.  And…it’s a pretty lame reason not to ever come back and visit my entire dad’s side of the family, including all my cousins who are my age.  When the opportunity arose this time, as much as I wanted to spend time with my parents in Paris (the only way I had a chance in hell to be comfortable here), I really wanted to see my cousins and uncles, especially my dad’s oldest brother. My dad is very close to him, and literally worships the ground he walks on. It’s more than I have ever seen. I mean, I love my brother…more than anything on earth. But, I also know my brother is human and makes mistakes. And I love him for all his flaws…I always will. However, you cannot say anything without my dad jumping to my uncle’s defense. Tonight, I told my dad that he   looking.” He said this in the most respectful way, and with such honor. It was absolutely adorable. Now, as good-looking as either of them could ever be, my dad’s oldest brother is in his mid-70s.  Adorable starts to change meaning.

I actually forgot how much I wanted to see my uncle until the moment I saw him and realized how much he aged. So much. He was still tall, but hunched over. Still chiseled, but with many more wrinkles. Still strong, but much weaker. Still authoritative, but with much less intensity than before. Still strict, but with more love.  It brought tears to my eyes. The minute I saw made me so happy to be here, in Paris, with him. It made all my discomfort and fears go away. I was never as close to him as one of my dad’s younger brothers. But it made me want to get to know him so badly. It made me want to appreciate every time he got under my skin, and every time I wanted to walk away because I felt controlled. I felt appreciative that I had this man in my life who could make me feel…anything. Whatever it was. I am happy to have him be him. Controlling, bull-headed, and all.

At dinner tonight, my dad’s younger brother brought up how he would have done so many things differently if he could start over. He even said that he took all the blame for his mistakes and any unhappiness he may have in life. My dad’s older brother immediately became “dad” and lectured him on how he had a great life, had all the opportunities in the world, and that he should stop complaining.  It hadn’t even been a complaint; more, a confession of sorts amongst the closest to him.  I could see my dad’s younger brother get a little hurt that he wasn’t being heard – a 60-year old grown man.  I could see him decide to stop talking and just take what was being said. After so many years, why try to change anyone? What’s the point? Is it even our place?

It’s times like these that I remember how important family is.  Friends and lovers come and go, but family is there…even when you haven’t kept in touch, talked, or seen each other in years. There is something that connects you forever…even when you don’t think of them. 

Today, I feel beyond blessed and grateful. 

On my way to Paris...

I seem to always find myself in uncomfortable positions. I can’t blame anyone but myself, really. Maybe uncomfortable isn’t the most mainstream word for the situations I am thinking about. I mean that I seem to be always pushing the limits of my comfort zone.  As I write this, I realize what an absolutely privileged life I have lived and continue to live to this very moment.  I am sitting here in my uncle’s medical clinic turned apartment-for-the-week in Paris. No, not Perris Valley, California, but the Paris the whole world seems to know and love. However, of all places in the world I could really imagine being most uncomfortable, this is it…I mean, I am sure there could be other places if I really thought about it. But, it’s midnight, and I don’t feel like thinking about miserable places before I put my head on my pillow in a strange place.

Anyway…we all have our stories, and I definitely have the one I hold onto regarding why Paris sucks.

However, this time around, it hasn’t really been so bad. I will admit, I haven’t really been out much, 1) because it is freezing (remember, I am from California, and this 16 degrees Celsius is bone-chilling to me), 2) I have been spending quality time with family who I have not seen in over 12 years, and 3) on the first real day in Paris, I slept until 6:30 pm because I was SO jetlagged (well, and because I haven’t been able to fall asleep before 6 am on either night – I am hoping tonight is the night.)

Nonetheless, it has been a fun adventure so far.

On the flight here, thankfully, we were nonstop from LAX to Charles de Gaulle.  I had come straight from a friend’s 30^th birthday party in mini-wine country, Paso Robles, and got back to Los Angeles literally an hour before my family left for the airport.  Our flight departed at 6:45 pm, so I figured, by the time we were served dinner (and I swore on everything holy that if I didn’t get my vegetarian meal this time……..), I could pass out at a reasonable hour for my night of sleep.  Turns out, I slept for approximately 8 of the 11 hour flight.  Obviously, I was in and out of sleep.  But, it was perfect. After I was served my boring vegetarian pasta, I put on my Ipod and immediately looked for Thievery Corporation. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to listen to more…I don’t think I got past the first track, which happened to be Lebanese Blonde, before I was completely in flight heaven. I woke up at one point to one of the funniest things I have ever seen my dad do…and trust me, there are many. My mother, father, and I were on the left side of the plane, with me by the window.  Before we even took off, my mom kept looking for empty rows “for my dad”. She said she wanted him to lie down and be comfortable since he has a bad back. I know she adores the man, but I also know how loudly he snores and I figured she’d be happy if either of them took it. Alas, there were no empty rows, but the lady right next to us (and right by my dad), had the entire middle row to herself. The three of us gave her the stank eye from the moment we sat down. So…when I woke up at some point in the night, this, I’m sure, nice lady was laying across the four seats in the middle sound asleep with her sleeping blindfold on. For some reason, no one had picked up her tray.  I will readily admit I was half-asleep at the moment, and this may be a crazy dream, although I would bet my unborn puppy that this happened, but my dad reached over and grabbed her bread roll!!! I will also admit that I had a different bread roll on the vegetarian tray than on the animal-eater tray, but I don’t remember the roll being all that great. He must have been seriously hungry to grab for it. I remember falling back asleep with a sly grin, half giggling to myself because my dad makes me happy and half because I was mortified.  The next time I remember waking up, my mom was complaining loudly, since she had her headphones in, that Love Actually wasn’t really a family movie and it had no depth.  I think I looked over at her screen, wait no, my screen, because her screen didn’t work, and it was the scene where one of the to-be couples meet on stage of a soft porn, and the actress is pretending to give head. Again, the sly grin and half giggle came back. Both laughing with/at my mom, and half mortified that of all times to wake up, why did I have to wake up to that scene?!  The third time I remember waking up, my parents were speaking, again very loudly, to one another about how two of the guys sitting behind us and to my dad's right were definitely the undercover marshals. I think I sleepily asked why he thought/knew that, and his reasoning was because the flight crew seemed very buddy-buddy with them, so they must be. The guys were maybe my age, or even a little younger.  One was black, the other white. The black guy seemed pretty normal, but the white guy had a beret-looking hat on, and kept smiling at me later when I went to the restroom. He was probably laughing at me considering he, without a doubt, saw my dad gank his neighbor’s bread.

I went back to sleep until my ridiculously boring breakfast of fruit, bread, and butter was served. Since I haven’t been drinking coffee, I even tried to spice up my breakfast with a decaf café and a tea. I guess it woke me up enough to not go to bed for the next two nights. I did fall asleep in the taxi again though.  I think the reason I haven’t fallen asleep at night, so far, is because of the horrendous sound coming out of my dad. The first night, we were all asleep in the living room. Good lord almighty. I cannot comprehend how he doesn’t wake up with the hoarsest of throats every morning of his life. My mom and I even got up and went to the kitchen to have a full on conversation about life at 3 am…and he had the nerve to tell us to go back to sleep. BACK TO SLEEP?! Had I fallen asleep for even a minute, I would have gladly gone back to sleep. So, that night, I planned out the rest of my life, thought about some projects I am interested in working on, traced and retraced the steps I wanted to take going through the city the next day, etc. I did not fall asleep until he pretty much woke up the next morning at 7 am…and woke up at 6:30 pm. Just in time for dinner at my uncle’s. J