Sometimes going through life without direction is sort of freeing; other times it's quite terrifying. The few times I've been lost in Paris, some kind Frenchman has witnessed my "damsel in distress" moment and come to my aid. Then, of course, they introduce themselves and want to know from what part of America I come.
At home, I do not offer tourists help. Even when I overhear a tourist saying: "Ok, if we keep walking this way, we'll hit Bleecker sooner or later," knowing full well if they keep walking this way, they'll be in Harlem by dinner time, I never say anything to help. I've also played the mock the tourist game with friends, where I'll go up to a tourist who is clearly lost and fumbling with a map and say: "You really look like you know your way around here, could you tell me if we're on 54th Street or not?" This is most fun with the tourists downtown, because we're obviously south of Houston and not even remotely near 54th Street, but thinking they're just as lost as I am, they flip their map around in the hopes of trying to give me the right information.
And if you're ever a tourist lost in New York, you better hope you never run into Swede on a bad day, that bugger will give you directions to god knows where then have himself giggle. Actually, that's a lie...again, that's something I would do...
However, having fallen in love with Paris, I do not plan to leave this city without taking its impact upon me home with me. I will not be returning to New York City the same girl who left, I will be less jaded, more kind, and more willing to offer help...to both tourists and non-tourists, and everyone in between. I'm not saying I'll stop being angry, I'm just saying I'll be kinder...there will be more love behind my actions, and less hate. No one back home may even recognize me...
xo. Mandy.
Speaking of love, this story is something I came up with after I tried to convince Swede, but mostly myself, that I didn't believe in love...Pomegranate Seeds...
2 comments:
I’ve been reading your blog and enjoying your journeys for some time now. I think I found it linked from stfuparents. Like you, my name is Mandy. I’m in my early 30s. I have a Jack Russell that owns my heart. I have always been attracted to tall, lanky, artsy boys that wear chucks; oddly I married someone the exact opposite. I am jaded and sarcastic on the inside. But unlike you, I don’t express that side written or verbal, I’m too non confrontational. Maybe one day I’ll have the confidence to put the real me down in words, you do inspire me.
I hope when your jaunt in Paris ends you continue to share your stories with strangers like me on the internets.
Thanks for the laughs and the tears.
P.S. If you were ever lost in New Orleans, I’d give you directions (the correct ones.) Just look for the shy girl walking a Jack.
dearest shy mandy:
i've never been to new orleans, so i'd definitely get lost and i'm happy to know i can count on someone for correct directions - thank you!
also, thank you for your kind words...be jaded and sarcastic on the outside just once and you'll never go back. i promise.
as for my stories, these are the just the beginning. i'm about to head back to new york in february and begin my search for a "real job," whatever that means, and the interviewing process will be loads of fun, i'm sure...
xo.
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