The Stories Inside

     I've discovered a new talent of mine. Being a fly on the wall. 

     I thought that the bus incident yesterday was a fluke because I felt amazing after throwing up but then I got home and started feeling bad again. I lied in bed for a while, feeling vaguely feverish and ache-y, drifting in and out of sleep. I woke up feeling nauseous again but thought I could just sleep it off. But nah. I got up, quick-walked to the toilet, and threw up like four times. I understood then why they call it "praying to the porcelain gods". And then I felt better again. I could hear JP in the next room commenting on my barfing ("[SE] sounds different than me when she barfs. I'm gonna be sick." Aunt M: "No you are not!!!"). Then my aunt came in and cooed over me for a bit and gave me some "probiotic stomach tablets" (I don't even know). I swallowed them anyway, along with some Advil and water and then went back to bed. I curled up under the covers and listened to music for a while to drown out the sound of JP's cartoons and his occasional whining. I tried (unsuccessfully) to fall asleep but just gave up and spent a few hours texting. When my aunt would come in to check on me I'd feign sleep. Sometime around 10pm JP started having a meltdown and then my aunt started getting mad so I turned off my music for a while and listened to them go at it. It was definitely the worst fight of the trip. Some notable quotables:

"You're not the worst mom in the world but you're certainly not the best!!"

"Why do you have to be like this?! You're so mean to me!! It's not my fault you're mean and stupid!!!"

"Stop it! Just stop it! Go to bed right now!"

"I've tried everything to make you happy but the only times you're happy is when I'm buying you something!! But guess what?! I can't buy you happiness!!"

Etc. etc. 

     I only felt slightly bad for pretending to be asleep and for not just putting my earbuds in to drown it out...

     After a while JP started crying and I could hear the sounds of my aunt patting his back and soothing him to sleep...they're both bipolar. It's cool though. We all have our flaws. 

     Then a couple minutes later my aunt called my uncle and I could hear her talking in the other room about JP and me (all good things! I was waiting for the moment when she would say that she regretted paying for me to come along because I've just been a burden and no help at all but she said that I've been wonderful to have there and that she thought that I'd be more "timid" but that I seem very "comfortable" in the city and that I'm quiet but I have a "connection" with JP and am "good company". Whoop whoop. I'm passing the Nanny Test. She also said that she tries to give me alone time because I'm her niece, not her nanny. But it's funnier if I'm the nanny). Anyway, it was very interesting to hear all the things people say when they think you're not listening. Then my aunt came in to check on me and put her freezing cold hand on my forehead and I had to just pretend to be asleep and hope I was doing a good job. Eventually I actually fell asleep and when I woke up in the morning, I felt like a million bucks. I don't know what was wrong with me but I'm glad it was short lived. 

     Today we went to Giverny which is a small village about an hour outside of Paris where Monet lived and had his gardens. We took the metro to the train station and then took a train to the bus station in Giverny and the bus to Monet's gardens. Thank goodness my aunt is here to navigate public transportation because I don't think I could handle it on my own. It's very confusing. 

     On the ride there we sat next to a guy who wound up telling my aunt his life story (my aunt has this thing where people tell her their life stories within minutes of meeting her). She had been talking about how she worked in Africa in Ghana and the Ivory Coast and he said that he was born in the Congo and that he was involved in the civil war there two years ago. He was on the losing side though so soldiers from the other side came into his house one night, shot his pregnant wife and his twelve year old son in the head and cut off his son's fingers. The son survived the shooting but is partially paralyzed. The wife and unborn child died. The man moved with his son to France where he got asylum and has been living there ever since. Obviously I didn't understand any of this when it was being said in French on the train (I did however pick up that they were talking about something sad because my aunt kept saying "I'm so sorry" and the man was saying something about a head and I somehow picked up that it was about his son. In my head, the story I'd made up was that his son was sick (maybe a brain tumor or severe handicap or something) and had to keep going to the US for surgeries (he kept mentioning various US locations) but nothing had worked). The actual story, obviously, is a million times sadder. Before we got off, my aunt gave him her business card and told him (in French, so I'm just assuming here) that if he was ever in Texas to give her a call. When we got off the train, he shook both my aunt's hand and mine (even though all I'd done was sit beside him and stare out the window when I sensed the conversation had turned dark. And say "No, no" when he asked if I spoke French) and he said "Au revoir" very politely and I said "Au revoir" very politely and that was it. 

     On the bus to Giverny, after my aunt had told me what the man had told her, it was all I could think about. Like here I was on a THREE WEEK vacation in freaking Europe, all expenses paid, complaining about my cousin when this man sitting beside me had seen his wife and child murdered right in front of him and his son permanently injured. He had to leave his home, his country--everything. That's enough to break even the strongest of people but this man was somehow still one of the nicest people I've ever met. And here I was judging him for smoking. Wow. It was just another one of those reminders that you have no idea what anyone else is going through. Not the man on the train or the woman in the grocery store or the model on the perfume ad. You have no clue. 

     On a happier note, Monet's gardens were absolutely beautiful. It rained on and off but mostly it was a nice day and we got to walk through Monet's house and see an impressionist museum. JP was pretty good the whole day and as we were walking back to the bus stop he bet me a dollar that he could be silent all the way home so I took him up on the bet. And he held true! I still haven't given him the dollar...oops. 

     On the bus home, it was crowded so we had to sit in a five-seat corner arrangement with two other guys and my aunt had to go to the bathroom so it was just me and JP and the one guy asked if we were from the UK and I said "No, we're from America" and he was like "Oh okay" etc. etc. and he said that they were from Afghanistan and I couldn't really understand him that well but I think he was saying that they were moving to the UK? I'm not sure. They were both really nice though and when JP was trying to open his water bottle the one guy took it and opened it for him and I was like "Merci" because I thought they spoke French but the guy was like "No, no merci. Thank you is better. French is a tricky language." And so I was like "You speak French?" And they were like "Oh no no!" and so I felt better for only being able to speak in English. I might've gotten their life stories out of them by the end of the hour-long train ride but my aunt came back and suggested we moved somewhere with more space so we got up and left...I felt bad for leaving with no explanation because they probably thought that I was just being fake-polite until my aunt came back. And my aunt always makes me hold her bag strap when she leaves so no one steals it so I was just loosely holding my aunt's bag in the seat across from me the whole time she was in the bathroom so they probably thought that I thought that they were going to try to steal it. But I didn't! They were super nice! I mean, they kind of smelled sweaty but who knows how long they'd been on that train for. I'd smell sweaty after a while too. 

     From the train station we took a taxi home and while my aunt and JP put our stuff away upstairs I went to the market and got some milk for JP's mac and cheese. I've never spent so long deciding on which milk to get. I was supposed to get a small carton of organic milk but they only had big cartons of organic milk so did I buy the small non organic one or the big organic one? I decided to go big or go home. Then I waited in line for a bit, paid for the milk, and walked home. I like going out alone. It makes me feel grown up. 

     Tomorrow is our last day in Paris...then a 6AM flight to Rome on Saturday! 

Day 950 Song Recommendation: "New Start" by Jolé. 

-SE Wagner