FIELD NOTE 6.63 - The end.

And here it is: the moment I've dreaded/looked forward to/avoided/awaited. Tomorrow at 11h00 I will be boarding a plane back to the United States.

My bags are packed and waiting beside the door. I came here with 2. There are now 4. I hope that I can take them all with me; I hope that they are all within their weight limits.
I am not good with endings or goodbye's. I tend to be one of those people who avoids them at all cost, walking away without a backwards glance. So I will fall back into that old pattern once again.
This is the end of "A Field Guide to Being Lost" - I am no more found than I was at the beginning of it.
So there it is. The end.

FIELD NOTE 6.62 - Haggling.

He wanted 100euro for a handmade leather bag and I didn't want to pay that. So I made my friend Pegah go with me to the marché today and we had decided that we would tag-team the man until he gave me a lower price.
Eventually, after shrewd bargaining on her part and pointing out flaws on my end, he finally conceded and agreed on the price of 85 euro. It was a fun experience and I left the market with a handmade leather bag, the perfect way to carry my glass bowls back from France.

FIELD NOTE 6.61 - Cleaning house.

Before we are able to vacate this Parisian apartment it must be clean. Living here for a month has led to the accumulation of dust in corners and promises to clean later. But now we are at the point where all the "I can get it later"'s in the world are not enough and so today I took the dustpan and broom out and began the long process of cleaning.
Funny to think that for such a small apartment cleaning it should last so long. But now the sun is setting and the apartment is finally clean to the point where it looks like none of us have ever been here. Were it not for my luggage and made bed I would be tempted to believe that even now I was gone.
This sterilization of space has been the same for every room I've ever rented. And even still every time it comes time to move again, the entire process feels new. But if I could count the number of rooms I've left behind without a trace of me, the number would be great - all those dorm rooms, apartments, and hotel rooms.
So many places where I am not remembered. But the irony of this is that even now I begin to forget what all those rooms looked like. I fear that this apartment will soon be among those fading memories. But this is a fear I always carry, like a coat.

FIELD NOTE 6.60 - La March des Fiertés.

Today was Paris Pride, the culminating experience of my Gay Culture & Identity Studies course in Paris.
I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting. From what I'd gleaned from pictures and clips of international pride events on Logo's news shows, I expected something large and loud. And I wasn't disappointed.
I cannot describe to you all of the sights and sounds of Paris' Marche des fiertés - they were just too much and too many to ever recount. But it was an amazing experience just to stand there beside the train of floats as people passed out pamphlets, fliers, condoms and candy and watch all the people going by.
And in less than 2 hours it was all over and the tractor announcing the end of the parade was passing us. Some people just began to follow the float path as it wound toward Place de la Bastille but I decided it was time to go home and take a shower to clean off all the glitter and sweat that had accumulated.

FIELD NOTE 6.59 - One class down.

That is is.
I have just emailed in my final exam for my queer theory course, which means I am officially done with my Queer Paris course and now nothing is left to wait for the grade, to wait for the grade. And in the interim between the 2 there are endless things to do: clean the apartment, buy coffee bowls, buy a leather bag, buy gifts.
I knew it was only a month even before I came here but now that the end of it is at hand I find that even still it felt shorter than I ever thought it would.
Just another thing that's over, just another ending.

FIELD NOTE 6.58 - Têtu.

Today our last queer theory class was devoted to 2 guest speakers from Têtu, the most famous and mainstreamed gay magazine in France. Ursula and Tim were both amazing and as they talked to us about the magazine and French queer history I found myself lamenting my imminent return to the United States.
Sitting there and listening to them I wished I somehow could find the time to work my way into a job with the magazine (I imagined myself a half-wit translator, but that is tentative and I would settle for less). That way I could stay here in France.
But dreams are silly and destined to fade when classes are only 2.5 hours long.

FIELD NOTE 6.57 - Strikes and other inconveniences.

Today it was almost impossible for me to muster the energy to get up and start the day. This is nothing new since I have had to get up at 7h00 every morning for the past month but it seemed harder today than ever before - possibly due to the knowledge that today marked the last day of queer theory or perhaps due to the knowledge that today was a massive strike by the public transportation system, a strike that I knew would take my normally 20 minute ride to the Sorbonne and make it an almost hour-long process.
Eventually (and by "eventually" I mean 5 minutes later) I managed to push the covers off of my body and to drag myself to the bathroom. Forty minutes later I walked out the door and through Parc Montsouris to the RER station where I learned I would have to wait 20 minutes for a train that would take me only 1 stop to where I would catch a métro for 12 stops to Saint Michel.
Class begins at 9h00 and at 9h03 I walked in the door with a breathless "Bonjour" and the professor, noting my breathlessness, only told me that she didn't really think it was that bad of a strike today. And as she said this, the majority of the class was absent.