I won't be home for Christmas Blogisode 3 -The Paris Nightmare

Stay tuned for some video footage!
Pictures are at the bottom!

Here I go flying to Paris alone in the middle of winter and staying with a stranger from Couch Surfers so I could save money just to spend my New Years Eve under the Eiffel Tower.  At least that’s what I thought it was going to be like.  Never in my life would I imagine what was to happen next. 

The first day went well, I met up with my host from couch surfers Anous.  He was very nice and was ready to take me to all the popular tourist attractions in Paris.  Once at his small apartment that reminded me of a crappy motel suit with only one room, a small bathroom and a kitchenette I knew I was in for an adventure.  He would sleep on the floor as I slept on his foldout futon. The first day we explored a few attractions that included the The Louvre and the Opera House.  He showed me what train to ride and how to get around on the dirty metros.  I was exhausted; I went from touring in Barcelona for three days straight to now walking the streets of Paris.  My feet hurt and my eyes were so baggy from the lack of sleep I desperately needed a good nights rest.  New Years Eve was the next day and I had to be ready to celebrate.

The day went on taking millions of pictures of the Eiffel Tower and Champs-Élysées while freezing my ass off.  I remember standing in line for the Eiffel Tower shaking so badly from the cold thinking to myself, why I was making my self so miserable just to see the first level of the Eiffel tower.  I told Anous I didn’t want to stand in line anymore, that I got some pictures and I wanted to leave.  He eventually talked me into staying and I finally after climbing a zillion steps made it to only the first level.  I immediately bought the most expensive Hot Chocolate I ever bought in my life and tried my best to warm up while standing under the heater.  I’m a Texan girl, I don’t do cold.

Eventually after our days adventures we headed to the market to buy some Champagne for the night and the back to Anous’ place for a small nap before ringing in the New Year.

After my nap I looked at the clock and realized we only had an hour to get ready and to get to the Eiffel Tower before midnight.  Anous grabbed some vodka and started drinking early while I drank a red bull still exhausted knowing that it was going to be a long night.  If I only I knew that Anous’ idea to start drinking early would snowball into worst night of my life I would have broken the bottle.  I remember distinctively telling him not to drink too much because if something happened to him I wouldn’t know how to get back to his apartment.  Little did I know that’s exactly what was about to happen.

We get to the train station near his place looking at the screen and adding up the minutes its takes to get from his town to Paris, I was quickly realizing that we might not make it to the Eiffel Tower before midnight strikes.  Trying to video tape my experience I only got on film Anous’ crazy antics being already intoxicated while I tried to calm him down.  Oh great I thought to myself, the last thing I needed was to take care of this fool.  We finally got to the streets of Paris a few blocks away from the Eiffel Tower and looking at the clock (it was five till) we decide to do the count down in the streets with everyone else.   

As I filmed us opening the Champagne and screaming out Bonne Année, Happy New Years in French (the only phrase I learned during my trip) I watched three men come up behind Anous and one of them had hit Anous’ head with the back of his hand.  I guess you could say I was lucky to have caught some of what happened on tape.  As Anous turned around he took a swing back at the guy who had started the whole thing.  That one punch started a full out brawl between Anous and the three men which started to look more and more serious as each second had past.  My fight or flight response kicked in and I chose flight as I ran not knowing what to do while at the same time trying to film what was happening on behind me.  I was in a panic, not knowing rather to go back, keep running or try to find help.

 I hid for a while which for me felt like forever but in reality probably was only a min or two.  I started to walk back down to where the fight broke out and I see the men who started the ruckus coming toward me.  I screamed at them, “Where is my friend?”  Of course they didn’t speak English and they started yelling at me while I examined the blood on all of their arms.  One of the men grabbed my arm and I screamed at him to let me go which caught the attention of a tall blond man.  He came running over to me and to the bloody bad guys who were trying to convince me to go with them.  By the time he reached us the three men started running down the street.   The tall blond man quickly realized I couldn’t speak French and asked me in English, “Do you need help ma’am?”   I screamed at him that those guys running down the street had just beaten up my friend and I’m American and yadda yadda yadda.  In the middle of my panic the tall blond man explained to me that he was a policeman and called for back up.

Within two minutes there was three cop cars and an ambulance on the street where we were supposed to be ringing in the New Year.  The policeman walked me down the street to look for Anous.  I had no idea where he was or how bad he had gotten hurt.  As I’m talking to the police still not knowing where Anous is, a young nice man comes up to me and says to me “your friends blood is all over me, I tried to help him, do need help with translating?” 

“Yes please, I’m so glad you speak English I’m trying to explain to the cops what happened.” I explained.

“We saw everything, let me help you.”  Said the nice guy that could speak English.

By this time Anous shows up covered in blood and trying to talk to me.  At this point I was so freaked out by what had happened and not knowing Anous very well, he was as scary to me as the guys who had beaten him up.  I didn’t trust anyone at the moment but the police and I was so sure that if Anous didn’t drink before we left that this whole mess could have been prevented.  I think his intoxication helped him in throwing that first punch instead of backing away from the whole ordeal.

They put Anous in the ambulance while I had Anous’ keys to his apartment in my hand trying to figure out in my head how to get back to his place across town.  The worst had happened and I was trying my best to keep it together.  The police told me not to go home alone it was too unsafe and they asked me if I had a friend to take me home.  The boy that came up to me earlier that tried to help Anous and had helped me translate told me he could accompany me back to Anous’ place later on.  I was desperate, I had know idea who this nice guy was or who his friends were but something told me to just go with them instead of going to the hospital with Anous. What a dumb decision right? 

This nice boy was named Bruno, he was from Brazil and he and his friends who I had met were in Paris for New Years as well.  Bruno convinced me to spend New Years with him and his somewhat intoxicated friends instead of spending New Years alone.  Again I’m not sure what I was thinking at the moment but I knew that the last place I wanted to be was alone in Anous’ apartment during one of the most important nights of the year.  Bruno told me that him and his friends were headed to the Eiffel Tower to meet up with another one of his friends that was American.  Sounded ok to me.  I watched as the ambulance took Anous to the hospital while I took a sip of Champagne and finished my statement to the police.  This was going to be one hell of a night I had thought to myself. 

The worst was over right?  I can go with Bruno and his friends, celebrate the new years, meet some new people and then Bruno or one of his friends would accompany me back to Anous’ apartment and then I would look for a hostel or hotel to stay in.  Yeah, if only that was what had happened.  The worst wasn’t over it was just the beginning.

As Bruno comforted me I was introduced to his friends from all over the world including France, Spain and Italy.  Only a few of them spoke English and I tried my Spanish with the Spaniards.  An hour goes by and we still are on the street trying to figure out where to go, the Eiffel Tower, a party in some guys flat, or Champs-Élysées.   We went from the street to the metro then back to the streets.  At one point I heard one of the guys tell the other guys to grab a girl and protect her.  I thought that was a little weird as Bruno put his arm around me and told me to stay close.  I asked him why and he had told me Paris could be dangerous at this time of night during the holidays.  He was right as I had men on the street try to grab at me and slap my ass while still in the arms of Bruno.  At this point I just wanted to go home and asked Bruno if we were almost to our destination.

We weren’t.  We get back on the underground metro that was insanely packed like we were human sardines.  For New Years the city had made the subway free for everyone to use it, of course this would make it crazy and packed.  Onboard already uncomfortable and a little claustrophobic I started to feel someone’s hand in an area where it shouldn’t have been. I grabbed the man’s wrist but he was too strong and kept violating me.  It could have been worse, I could have been wearing a dress which was what my new friends were wearing as it was happening to them too.

What these men do is they purposely violate girls so that the girl’s attention is on what is happening to them while another guy goes through the girl’s purse.  As I was fighting some man to take his hands off of me I see out of the corner of my eye that his friend was digging his hand in my purse.  Luckily everything of importance to me was left at Anous’ home and the only thing the robbers stole from me was my hand sanitizer and my sunglasses.  I got my sunglasses back but the dumb ass’s kept my Purell.  Luckily my camera was tucked away behind two zippers so it was a lot harder to get to, it was safe.

The boys that were with us figured out what was happening and tried there hardest to hold us and protect us until the doors of the metro opened.  The doors didn’t open for another 20 minutes as I tried my best to get away from the bad guys who had just violated and robbed me.  The boys that were trying there hardest to protect us could only verbally fight with the bastards until the doors of the metro had opened.  The doors finally opened as tears fell down my face.  My new friends (the strangers) kept asking if I was ok and to check my purse to see if they had stolen anything else.  They hadn’t.

After that I was very reluctant to get onto another metro but I knew we had to get on one to get to where we were going, though at this point I still didn’t know where we were going.  This next metro wasn’t any better.  We got stuck in this one for at least an hour or two.  Not only am I claustrophobic but I stood next to a man that had too much to drink that night and was puking all over the floor right next to my boots.  The smell of the metro was enough to get to me to join in on the puking madness.  I was tired, cold, scared and a little sick from the horrid smell.  Four hours pass and this night still wasn’t over? 

We never reached the Eiffel tower and we never got to go to that party they kept talking about.  My new years night was spent in the metro station and on the streets of Paris dodging the chaos of crazy drunk men among other things.  By now it’s five in the morning and I’m following my new friends back to the their hotel.  Bruno said in the morning he would help me get back to Anous’ house to retrieve my things.  I would end up staying in the girls Hotel room sharing a bed with to other girls who didn’t even know me.

It wasn’t until the next morning when I left that I found out the hotel we were staying in was in a bad part of town, the many burnt cars on the street near the hotel was evidence of that.

Eventually I confronted Anous, grabbed my things headed back to Bruno’s hotel to take a shower and rest. I ended up sleeping the rest of the day.  Bruno woke me up when he and his buds came back; it was two in the morning.  My third day in Paris and here I was asleep in a strangers hotel room all day long while my new friends were out touring the places I had planned to tour as well.   I could have found a Hostel but Bruno said it was ok to stay with them another night.  They were leaving in the morning as well and we all had planes to catch. 

By now Spain was home to me.  I wanted to get back to my piso, back to my bed and back to a country where I could at least speak some of the language.  People say that Paris is the city of romance, a magical city, the fashion mecca, but to me Paris was a nightmare come true.  Again the pictures were great but the story was horrible.  One thing I can be thankful for was that God was watching over me.  He kept me safe and gave me one hell of a story to tell.  This one. 

 

These are the strangers that took me in! Bruno is the guy closest to the middle.

I won't be home for Christmas Blogisode 2 ------Finally

Sling mud at a brick wall, watch how it clumps and slides down the side of the wall as it dries in the sun.   This was what I imagined when I saw the Sagrada Família for the first time as I stood in the long line that rapped around the cathedral.  While discussing the wait time with Alicia and her boyfriend I kept staring at parts of the massive Catholic Church wondering where Gaudi imagined up these designs that reminded me of mud.  As waiting is not one of my favorite things to do my eyes scoured the outside of the building trying to find figures, animals and symbols like I was a five year old searching in an I Spy book.  Confused at what I should be feeling while gawking at one of the most beautiful buildings in the world, I realized maybe that was Gaudi’s intention, he wanted the viewer to be confused and a little unnerved by his unusual design. 

 

It wasn’t until I stepped inside that I literally held my breath at what was the most insert synonym for gorgeous here sight I had ever seen in my life.  My camera immediately began snapping pictures as I was in a pinch-me this is to unreal moment while my mouth was wide enough for bird to make his home in.  As I fought other tourists with their cameras for some prime picture spots I couldn’t help think how much work and manpower it took to construct the massive structure. This time I wasn’t confused, more so overcome by the massive elegance that I was lucky to be standing in.

Eventually I had to leave and follow the rest of the tourists to the museum and read a little history. After that Alicia, her boyfriend David and I headed to the Park Güell, which inspired us all over again.  I couldn’t help imagining being transported into this wonderland of gingerbread houses with icing roofs and gummy statues.  Park Güell reminded me of a real life Candyland, except this board game was real life and the gingerbread houses were just the imagination of a great artist.

On the way back to our awesome hotel the last day of our visit I was tapped on the shoulder by an old lady inside the metro station.  She told me “ tienes un pequeño muñeca en su espalda,” or something like that. It translates into you have a small doll on your back.  I was very confused as Alica grabbed my shoulders turned me around and started laughing as she pulled off a blue paper shaped like a stick man that had the word gaupa on it with a smiley face. 

Earlier that evening Alicia, David and I were in Starbucks (heaven) and they were telling me the significance of the holiday December 28^th El Dia de inocentes.  They were explaining to me that the holiday is similar to our April Fools day were family and friends go around playing jokes on each other.  The newspapers also run fake news stories and a television program that’s on every year pulls pranks on celebrities and raises money for children with disabilities.  They also mentioned to me that it’s popular for young people or teenagers to go around and stick little paper dolls on to people’s backs as one of the traditional jokes.  The victims of these jokes are called inocentes.  That night I was one of those inocentes as I had one of those paper dolls tapped to my coat.

Alicia thought it was funny, I thought it was a strange coincidence as 30 min before we were talking about the holiday and David was upset that I didn’t have enough situation awareness.  He kept asking me why I hadn’t felt someone tape that to my back without me noticing it.  My excuse was my jacket was thick and padded, which it was.  As we laughed and talked about my little surprise on the way back to the hotel, Alicia mentioned that it was the perfect way to leave Barcelona.  I thought so as well and even more pleased that the paper doll read guapa, which meant beautiful.

I Won’t be Home for Christmas Blogisode 1

"Pj's and Seafood"

My blogisodes came a little late.  Actually they are very late and I apologize for those who have been waiting.   Writers block or something, my creative juices have been put on hold. Why this happens I would like to know, it’s all I got going for me.  So on with my Christmas and New Years stories.

Spending Christmas away from home wasn’t that big of a deal, sure I’d miss my family but there will be another one next year.  Christmas in Spain was going to be fun, right?  My co-worker/ friend Alicia invited me to spend the holidays with her and her family.  I was looking forward to the Christmas break but little did I know that Christmas with her family would help me put on five pounds.

Along comes Christmas day and it was time to meet the family. I met the sweet Grandpa, the strange Uncle that no one likes, the Aunt that everyone likes, the ritzy cousins and the boyfriend.   The only difference between this family and an average holiday get-together in America is the fight over who gets the last piece of octopus.

Enya was playing in the background and I kept asking Alicia if I should have changed my clothes as I stared at everyone in their Sunday best.  Feeling uncomfortable already as the language barrier kept me out of some really funny jokes I decided to offer my help in the kitchen.  I was unsuccessful as I was shooed to get out of the way, so to the table I went and boy was I starving. One by one I stared at the plates trying to figure out first what the hell I was looking at and second my exit strategy if my gag reflex decided to do its job. I looked down at all the seafood on the table and my stomach started talking to me.  No I don’t mean the sounds of gurgle, gurgle, gurgle, I mean literally talking to me.  My stomach had a voice like George Costanza from Seinfeld!  I kept hearing” don’t eat it, don’t eat it, I’m losing it!”  But I had to try it at least once; it’s common courtesy to at least try it, right- even if it still had the eyeballs? 

The octopus didn’t even looked cooked as everyone pushed me to try it.  I took one bite and swallowed fast as everyone laughed at me.   Next up, packaged salmon with black caviar on top.  Always wanted to try caviar, I wanted to know what the big hype was.  Down the pipe it went and I still don’t have the answer for that one.   Anchovies on tomatoes?  I so would lose on one of those reality shows where the contestants have to eat strange things to win.  Mussels are huge here in Spain and are even a bigger disappointment to my American appetite.  I really thought I could Anthony Bourdain my way through Christmas dinner, I was terribly mistaken.  I stuck to the bread cheese and wine for the first half of the meal that lasted for about two hours.  Let me repeat that, the first part.  After comes five more courses that were more pleasing to my appetite.

Chicken soup with jamón and boiled egg, chicken vegetable stew, seafood stew and lastly pork with a cheese sauce.  Each one of these was one course, I literally had to jump and pack it down before I could eat the next one.

Now you can’t have a Christmas dinner without dessert, three desserts to be exact.  By now six hours had passed and I was still at the table trying to figure out how I was going to get past the maze of chairs to the bathroom.  Bathroom break and I was ready to stop eating, but the family didn’t stop after dessert.  After the dessert came the candy, nuts, coffee, tea and liquor.  Seven hours and a stomach ache later I was ready for bed, but it was present time.

 I didn’t expect to get anything but was excited when my named got called to come get my present as I sat and drank my cafe con leche.  I opened it and found a set of Minnie Mouse pajamas.  Pajama sets are somewhat of a necessity here in Spain as well as house slippers I quickly found out when I came to breakfast one morning in only socks and was told that it was sort of rude not to wear any house slippers. Quickly Alicia’s mom shouted at me as I was examining the size that I now have proper pj’s to keep me from getting sick.  I think it’s cute that the Spaniards still believe that getting sick is from improper pj’s or not having a scarf around your neck.  I guess they’ve never heard of germs.   Supposedly a t-shirt and basketball shorts don’t count as pajamas.  Later Alicia told me that her mother was worried that I slept in such things and decided that a pj set was a perfect gift.  Truthfully it was, I loved it.  I guess Christmas turned out great after all. 

Until the next day when we ate all of the leftovers and sat at the table for a straight seven hours again with the sweet Grandpa, the strange Uncle, the nice Aunt, the posh cousins, Alicia’s boyfriend and the rest of the family.  I taught them how to play Texas hold’em and made them a chocolate pie.  You didn’t think I was going to leave out my Christmas traditions did you?

So after all that food Alicia’s family and I went on a “walk” the next day in the hills of Coin, a small city next to Malaga.  A gorgeous place to go for a stroll but this stroll lasted for 6 hours.   The so-called “walk” wasn’t a walk; it was a hike up really steep hills, through streams and past waterfalls.  They didn’t warn me, I wasn’t prepared!   Definitely not prepared to eat these strange small fruits off these trees Alicia’s dad kept picking for me.  He didn’t know that I’m allergic to everything under the sun, but I couldn’t be rude.  Here I go eating something I don’t want to just to be polite.  I eventually ate a small piece of this bright red bumpy fruit and chewed it praying that I wouldn’t go into anaphylactic shock or break out into hives.  It’s similar to a peach they told me.  It sure didn’t taste like anything close to a peach.  I put the rest of the fruit in my mouth and spit it out as soon as I was out of sight.  The hike I have to say was quite beautiful, and ended with me teaching the family a song from Journey.  Or at least I tried too.

"My grown up life" and "I won't be home for Christmas"

 I think everyone sits a few minutes out of their day to fantasize about what their future will look like.  What career they’ll have, where they will live and who they will marry.  If only someone could snap us out of that fantasy then maybe the future wouldn’t come as such of a surprise to most of us.

 I remember when I was just a girl watching 90210 or Baywatch I  had dreamt about the day I would become a real grown up.  That of course included having my own Babysitters Club, a pink mansion like Barbie and don’t forget a prince charming.  Then I grew up a little and realized that what I really wanted was a life like a Dawson’s Creek episode and my true mission was to marry Ricky Martin, or maybe one of the Back Street Boys.   Little did I know back then, that pink mansions are for crazy plastic women who live in California, that Ricky Martin is gay and that living like a Dawson’s Creek character would probably put me in the psych ward.  Eventually I did make it to womanhood and it’s not as fabulous as I thought it was going to be and it definitely wasn't at all what I imagined it was going to be either. If I knew that my life at twenty-five was going to be such a roller coaster filled with drama, that makes Dawson’s Creek look like the Teletubbies, and other days filled with depressing boredom I wouldn’t have wasted my time daydreaming so much.  Never in a million years would I have guessed that my living in Spain, amongst my other travels, would be my wake up call into the "real" future, life as a grown up. 

Living in Spain has been one of my biggest challenges, and I used to think that college was a kick in the ass.  It has challenged me intellectually, physically and emotionally and it’s not stopping anytime time soon.  I have been here for a little over four months now, my Spanish still sucks, I haven’t gotten used to the seafood and I haven’t quite found a social group I really fit into.  Maybe I sound a little pessimistic but I promise I count my blessings each and every day.  It sure beats trying to find a career in an over-saturated job market and hanging out at the same bar with the same friends discussing the idea of going back to school while calculating the overwhelming debt in your head as you buy another round of beers.  I get it; I’m pretty darn lucky. 

I was even lucky enough to be spending Christmas in Spain and New Years in France.  It thought to myself, this holiday season is going to be one to remember, an adventure of a lifetime right?  Believe me it was, and in this Blog-series called (I Won’t Be Home For Christmas) with only three Blogisodes I will attempt to enlighten you with my miniature movie-esque holiday experience. Get ready for fun, laughter, omg moments and thank the Lord moments! 

The first blogisode will be able for your reading pleasure this week so stay tuned!

I Won’t Be Home For Christmas

Blogisode 1 “PJ’s and Seafood”

Preview:

I looked down at all the seafood on the table and my stomach started talking to me.  No I don’t mean the sounds of gurgle, gurgle, gurgle, I mean literally talking to me.  My stomach had a voice like George Costanza from Seinfeld!  I kept hearing” don’t eat it, don’t eat it, I’m losing it!”  But I had to try it at least once; it’s common courtesy to at least try it, right- even if it still had the eyeballs?