FIELD NOTE 6.56 - Farewell, farewell dinner.

Tonight CEA was hosting a farewell dinner for all of us at a restaurant in Paris' most famous mosque. I had every intention of going and so at exactly 6h10 I left my flat to make my way to the RER station.
As soon as I walked out of my door, the air was filled with loud noises that ended up being a seemingly endless stream of French supporters of the Algerian World Cup team walking down the side of Parc Montsouris. Deciding to brave the crowd and not speak any English just in case there was any negative sentiment remaining from the Algerian loss to the American team, I walked alongside the park until I came to a line of French SWAT officers. As soon as I approached the spot where they were standing, they began to move and bring their transparent shields in front of them to barricade people so that the metro wasn't overfilled. Thankfully I and my 2 roommates just made it past their shields in time to crowd into a non-active metro.
So it seemed that dinner was impossible as it was by this time 7h00 - 15 minutes past the time of our reservation. Any attempt at finding another route would take us at least an hour to get there.
So we admitted defeat in the metro and walked home, a walk that would have been only 7 minutes had there not been SWAT and rioting Algerians but one that ended up taking almost 30.
So farewell, farewell dinner. My baguette ended up being just as nice as I opened my bedroom window and grew happy in the fact that I had chosen not to brave the metro once the voices escalated to a near deafening level just before dying out.

FIELD NOTE 6.55 - Maps.

Six hours and 4 cups of English tea later, my final project is finally done. I only just finished adding the final touches to it an hour before class.
It felt like a triumph. The sleep I gave up on to make this project possible, however, didn't feel so much like a triumph as an impossible hurdle.

FIELD NOTE 6.54 - Project.

Tomorrow I have a project due for my queer theory class which means tonight will be devoted to its completion regardless of how long it takes to put everything together between readings and random French conjugations.
But tomorrow I will have my life back and tomorrow I will have something to share with the class.

FIELD NOTE 6.53 - A gift for Maite.

Maite and I have formed as close of a friendship as two people with language barriers and 9AM French classes can form in only a month. I've come to regard her as a constant and reassuring presence here in France.
Last week before our phonetics course she said that it was important for her to give me something before I go and she handed me a 20 centavos piece of Argentinian currency. Not knowing what to say, I just said thank you.
I don't know why I am always like this, but I don't really know how to accept gifts. Ziming said once that I am one of the most thankful people she's ever met and that it seemed to her that she couldn't believe someone would actually want to give me anything. While I don't know if this is true or not, I thought it might be nice to offer Maite something in return.
Since she had given me a piece of her currency, it only seemed fitting that I should do the same although the only piece of American currency I had on me is an Adams dollar my aunt gave me for good luck 3 years ago when I graduated from high school, something that I've kept on me ever since.
After some hesitation, I took the coin from the pocket of my bag where it stays and handed it to Maite telling her, "This has always brought me luck." Having seen the coin earlier and knowing that it was the same one I had told her about, she was on the verge of not accepting it. But it was only when I closed her hand and told her that I hoped it would bring her luck that she well and fully accepted it.
It's strange now to think that the dollar is no longer with me. I like to think though that the coin was meant for her and maybe the luck it brings will come once I return to the United States and she remains in Paris and we see if we keep in contact.

FIELD NOTE 6.52 - One week.

Seven days from now I will have packed my bags and cleaned this apartment. Seven days from now I will be preparing for my last night of having to close the shutters and remember to close the bathroom window. Seven days from now I will already be lamenting what I haven't yet lost.
It's strange to now have the span of a week separating me from the United States. It seems like only yesterday was January and I was counting down the days. And now I'm still counting down but all the numbers are half-hearted and abstract.
What is it that I want of this week? Right now all I want is to get through the classes and muddle through the realization that I will leave here without any real connections to this city beyond the handful of people I've come to know.
I guess this is life. I guess this is how it happens. After all, what could I really expect from a month?

FIELD NOTE 6.51 - Si loin.

"Tu viens de si loin... mais je ne te demande pas qui tu es."

François Cheng wrote this in his work Le Dit de Tianyi, which appears in the anthology of French literature that the Sorbonne gave me my first day of classes. We weren't scheduled to read this piece but even still I just happened to stumble across this page and found the passage fit entirely with what I feel now.
I am not, nor will I ever be, French. The French know this. I think they can see it in my hair, in my skin, in my walk. And if not there, then in my accent and my half-wit words. I can only say enough to get by, they can understand. And even in this, they let me pass and pretend that I can speak French.
That's enough for now, I guess. It will have to be at any rate since I can't change it now.

FIELD NOTE 6.50 - Again.

...and here it comes again, this feeling that I could live here in France forever and be happy.