When in Rome...

I woke with the most divine view of the world this morning. 

Buongiorno, Roma!

A week ago, I stood in the catacombs to avoid lunch with my mother. It was the best decision I've ever made. I never expected to find freedom in this underground boneyard amongst the ghosts. That's when I saw her. She was beautiful, but she was so much more than that. She was magnificent. I wanted to take her picture, but all I could do was stand there, gawking like a schoolgirl, as she traced the empty eye sockets of a skull in the wall of the catacombs. She must have felt my heavy gaze because she turned to me and spoke just above a whisper, "This is what we become."

Like an idiot, I just stood there and nodded. She smiled and extended her hand to introduce herself. Here name was Sara and every part of me was pleased to make her acquaintance. She asked me to have a cup of coffee with her and I couldn't resist. She told me of her travels. She is a lovely French woman who walks the world like a gypsy. She's been everywhere, even my home town. She calls me a cowgirl and tells me that the only person I can please is myself then she jokes, "unless that person is in your bed, of course." I have not been in her bed, but the thought kind of crossed my mind.

As our cups empty, I ask her if she plans to stay in Paris long. She said that she was actually on her way out. My disappointment was obvious and she tells me to meet her at the train station in two hours…I knew right away that I wouldn't be just seeing her off. I hoped that was the case. She tells me to grab only what I need and I asked her where we were going. She just said, "Away." 

Can you believe this stuff is in the middle of the city??

And now we are in Rome, doing as the Romans do. The city is beautiful and wondrous to me, but Sara's been here before. She took me around to the touristy places then she showed me the Rome that she knows. I write to you now from an internet cafe. I managed to hijack this computer to let you all know that I'm okay. I'm more okay than I've been in a very long time. No more time to chat, guys...we're off to squeeze down tiny streets to find our accommodations for the evening.

Ciao... xo

Walking With the Ghosts

Waking up in Paris should be dreamy and romantic. What girl doesn't want to wake up here? Not this one. It's not any better than sitting in my apartment back home. I though it would be different here, but it's the same. Christmas was uneventful, as usual. John Michael said that he would come out, but he was a no show. I was excited for about ten seconds, but I knew that he wasn't coming. I wish he would have. I really miss him. New Year's was fun, though. I dropped by my parents' for dinner then ended up partying with tourists under the Eiffel Tower. 

"I hope you find what you're looking for."  That was the last thing my brother said to me when he dropped me off at the airport for my trip.  I suddenly hoped the same thing, but how do I find what I'm looking for if I don't know what it is?

Sometimes, I just drift through the streets of Paris like a ghost. I want to be inspired and to find that thing that Jon Michael hoped for me, but it's just not here. I like going down to the catacombs beneath the streets. It's peaceful there, me and the other ghosts. When I first came to Paris a couple of weeks ago, my mother took me around to the touristy places and we ended up there. She rattled on about the history, but I was mesmerized by the thousands of skulls that stared back at me. I didn't hear a word of what she was saying, all I could do was wonder who loved these lost souls. Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe, but then I think of this place and I wonder, who could love this lost soul?

I was supposed to meet my mother for lunch today, but I think I will walk with the ghosts of the catacombs instead.

Walking With the Ghosts: these lost souls