Braving the Storm: some sappy holiday parables

The lights had to brave the storm, too. The Christmas disco ball in the marché was a'swinging.

It has been a strange week. A storm hit La Rochelle and pushed everyone indoors. I like to translate the French word tempête into Tempest (capital T), because it better describes the dramatic weather that has rushed down upon La Rochelle. If you walk out in the streets the wind seems to come from all directions, whipping around, often with extreme gusts of rain. On Thursday night, Erin came to La Rochelle for a last minute visit, and we ducked from café to bar to restaurant, in the periods when the rain stopped briefly. We wandered into the right bars though, and ended up spending the evening with a hilarious group of friends, including one whose father owned the bar.

I don't know if I've mentioned that since my little incident with le bus, I've lost my head a little. I feel fine physically, but am always a step behind myself. Last weekend I left my cellphone in the covoiturage and it still hasn't arrived in the mail. I forget things more than often. I seem to keep getting colds. My computer had a scrape with hard drive failure. Yesterday I boarded the wrong train and thought I was en route to Paris (luckily I ended up in La Rochelle). The storm didn't help, often turning me into a drowned rat. It did, however, make it seem like the world was with me in my chaotic state.

These recent bouts of misfortune have made me doubt myself a little. Everything was going so well before. I wondered if there were things I wasn't doing that had brought it upon me. Should I have tried harder to salvage my sour housing situation a couple of weeks ago? Should I work harder to please everyone? Should I not stay in French cafés and use the internet for as long as I do? This last one shows how silly anxiety can be sometimes. However silly they may be, these doubts kept me from falling back asleep when the wind woke me up in the night midweek.

I realized towards the end of the week, though, that I need to stop counting my little misfortunes. I am happy, strangely not upset or even emotional about missing Christmas with my family at home. The miracle workers at the Apple store spent an hour repairing and updating my Macbook, while letting me play on the sample computers. I got my broken bike back from the shop, and suddenly even the wheel-powered lights work. I no longer have to ride around without brakes, relying on the hard soles of my sneakers (don't worry, I walked down any slopes and always wear my helmet despite the fact that strangers laugh at me for it). A pair of funny biochemistry professors for whom I record English voice-over for their video lessons (I am an honorary member of their “Dream Team”) invited me over for brunch tomorrow. Katia and I had a happy, tension-less conversation at school, assuring me that she doesn't hold a grudge. Even though Erin and I got seriously soaked as we bent against the wind to walk to the station on Friday morning, only to see that the trains were delayed because of a fallen tree, we both got where we were going, and I even met a couple of other assistants at my final visa appointment.

And last night, another parable-like experience reminded me that my luck always balances out for the better. I rode my bike through the wind to stand under the Grosse Horloge (the big port clock) and wait for the group of assistants who were supposed to meet there to go for “au revoir” drinks before the holidays. I soon realized if they had decided to stay in because of the weather, I would have no idea, still missing my phone and internet. Another girl was waiting too, and after I heard her speak in English to some passersby I asked if she was also waiting for the assistants. She said no, that she was waiting for someone else, but that she was an American studying abroad. She invited me to come for drinks with them if the others didn't show. Because it was cold out, I soon accepted, and had drinks in the cozy Irish pub with the girl Kimberly and her French friend, Matt. They turned out to be really fun and welcoming and though Kim heads back to the states today, I'm sure I will see Matt again.

If I would have had my phone, I probably would have ended up back at home. The storm passed in the night, and today the sun has returned. I met Charlie for tea at the literary, Left Bank c. 1920's-esque Café de la Paix before she flew home for the holidays, and made myself a lovely lunch with veggies and fresh bread from the marché. I even got a very special package in from the post office.

I suppose my luck can only be so bad, living in beautiful La Rochelle in an apartment that I love and going to Spain for Christmas in three days! Xoxoxo.