I stood in the hot humid bathroom cranking the handle. My wet hair leaked water onto my shoulders and down to my hands. The door made the same sound everytime I turned the handle, a spring-like noise that failed to release the latch. I was a prisoner in my own bathroom for who knows how long. I put my ear to the door to listen for my roommate walk by.
"Katie!?!? Help me I am stuck inside the bathroom!"
Katie worked the handle from the outside to no avail.
"Stand back!"
Katie threw her whole body into the door. A faint squeal of pain marked her failure to penetrate my cell. The water molecules in the air were cooling. It was starting to remind me of my trip to the jungles of Belize.
While Katie went to go call for help I looked into the foggy mirror. Make-up had dripped under my eyes and I looked like a drowned racoon. My hair was starting to curl and I was still wrapped in my damp towel.
"The caretaker and some technicians are coming."
Oh god. The thought of the caretaker seeing me in a towel lead me to quickly change back into the dirty jeans and t-shirt from earlier that day.
Some minutes later, the three french men stood outside the door and contemplated my liberation for quite some time. I sat on the dirty floor covered in hair and thought about how badly we need to mop. After at least ten minutes I moved back into the bathtub.
"They have gone to get a saw, hold tight."
I sat in the bathtub and smelled all of our beauty products. I didn't realize how good my roommates shampoo smelled. I must go buy some of my own.
Minute 40 passed in the bathtub and all I could think about my copy of the Da Vinci Code sitting outside the door. Oh why couldn't I have brought it into the bathroom with me. Why couldn't I be reading about Opes Dei instead of Sodium Lauryl Sulfate. What did I do to be smote like this!!!
As I smelled my conditioner by sqeezing the bottle a little squirted on my nose. At that very instant three french men with a saw and a drill burst through the door, to find me sitting in the empty bathtub with dark circles under my eyes, wet matted hair, wearing a dirty shirt, and conditioner dripping from my nose.
One never leaves prison with much digninty.
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Friday, November 26, 2004
Run Shaw Run Goes Random
So just wanna mention that people I do not even know are commenting on my site, meaning that random people read my daily thoughts. That is weird but cool. Run Shaw Run has gone random!
Thursday, November 25, 2004
Thanksgiving French Style
Well that is kinda a contradiction of terms. The french don't celebrate Thanksgiving, let alone know what the heck it is. So yesterday my homey Matt for Barcelona showed up in Romans to celebrate the day with me. We ate turkey sandwiches and called it a night. I was lucky enough to receive a phone call from my mother's party at 10:30pm just as I was going to sleep, and then another call from my dad's side at 1:30am just as I was sleeping. Has anyone ever heard of a time change? How about 8am class? I was really tired this morning but was happy to hear from everyone.
Okay gotta go teach my little beasts cuss words. This week's lessons have been on Sublime, the LA riots of 92, and still some Simpsons.
Okay gotta go teach my little beasts cuss words. This week's lessons have been on Sublime, the LA riots of 92, and still some Simpsons.
Monday, November 22, 2004
Takin a piss
So the whole "Together we can go farther. Together we can stay gone forever. " was a bit sarcasm people. I was making fun of myself... hello?! Haven't you ever heard of self-deprication? Please no more e-cards of flying birds or sunsets.
Anyway, went paragliding again this weekend in Grenoble. It was so beautiful in the valley with snow-topped mountains towering in the back. The car ride up the mountain always makes me a little sick. My second time running off the cliff was surprisingly mellow. I wasn't questioning the proximity of my death nearly as much and enjoyed my flight. The only thing cooler than paragliding would be if actuall feathery wings sprouted out of my back and they served as my transportation.
Got the pleasure of experiencing a bit of the french medical establishment at it's finest today. Had to do a "routine" medical exam for my long stay visa. I was made to get a chest x-ray in the boonies of the boonies administered by some pervo 5'4" tall, white chest hair bearing, crucifix sporting, french sleeze bag radiologist. Quelle chance pour moi. He must really love his job. He gets to ask 50 foreign college-aged girls to disrobe for a useless Tuberculosis screening x-ray everyday. Who said being a civil servant is boring work.
The whole exeperience was horrifying from the ride on a bus full of ill freaks, to the shanty medical offices surrounded by cornfields. Although my favorite bit were the painful shreiks of terror and pain coming down the hall on my way out. It is the sound I had been feeling all day.
Still don't know what I am doing for the holidays. Must look into some package deals or something.
Anyway, went paragliding again this weekend in Grenoble. It was so beautiful in the valley with snow-topped mountains towering in the back. The car ride up the mountain always makes me a little sick. My second time running off the cliff was surprisingly mellow. I wasn't questioning the proximity of my death nearly as much and enjoyed my flight. The only thing cooler than paragliding would be if actuall feathery wings sprouted out of my back and they served as my transportation.
Got the pleasure of experiencing a bit of the french medical establishment at it's finest today. Had to do a "routine" medical exam for my long stay visa. I was made to get a chest x-ray in the boonies of the boonies administered by some pervo 5'4" tall, white chest hair bearing, crucifix sporting, french sleeze bag radiologist. Quelle chance pour moi. He must really love his job. He gets to ask 50 foreign college-aged girls to disrobe for a useless Tuberculosis screening x-ray everyday. Who said being a civil servant is boring work.
The whole exeperience was horrifying from the ride on a bus full of ill freaks, to the shanty medical offices surrounded by cornfields. Although my favorite bit were the painful shreiks of terror and pain coming down the hall on my way out. It is the sound I had been feeling all day.
Still don't know what I am doing for the holidays. Must look into some package deals or something.
Friday, November 19, 2004
Another one bites the dust
We have had our first program drop-out... my homegirl Julianna from North Carolina. Her schools were treating her like crap and she just couldn't take it any more. Today is a perfect day to quit as it is raining and only 4°C. I am so jealous that she is gonna be home for the holidays. If I could see my family for thanksgiving and xmas I would leave too, but I must stay. Someone has to report from the other side.
Thursday, November 18, 2004
Dirty is a Smell
From a train somewhere is Spain after 3 days in Barcelona:
The life of the traveler has taken hold. My pants are a size too big with holes. My hair is slightly dreaded and covered by the hood of my sweater. My blue eyes peer confidently from dark circles and a smirk hangs on my face. I have worn the same socks for three days. The traveler is not interested in appearance, only experience. Feminine clothes and high heels do not serve one on a five hour walk, so one no longer possess either. Clothes are functional now, not for show. I attract others like me. Since I travel alone I meet mostly other American men. I prefer the men I meet traveling to those I meet in bars when I am wearing lip gloss and smelling of Lolita Lempicka. They see me as for who I am, not what I look like. When travelers seduce each other there is a complete acceptance of the others shortcomings without judgement. You have ketchup on your thigh and my shirt has 3 holes, wanna make out? Normal people wish they could live like this.
The travelers code: 1) Dirty is a smell. 2) The grocery store is your friend. 3) Bring earplugs.
I would like to state a major difference between normal people, those who work jobs and 5 year plans, and the traveler. While I was working in Corporate America after graduating uni I would tell people I was working only to save money and go travel. This was regarded as something exotic, almost bizarre. Six months working for six months travel, and never any more power or responsibility than you could leave in a heart beat. While the normalite is worrying about a Power Point presentation, the traveler in the bar of a hostel in any given European city is scheming with other lost souls as to the quickest way to turn a buck and get back out on the road. My desire to extend my stay for as long as possible is only encouraged by those around me.
The life of the traveler has taken hold. My pants are a size too big with holes. My hair is slightly dreaded and covered by the hood of my sweater. My blue eyes peer confidently from dark circles and a smirk hangs on my face. I have worn the same socks for three days. The traveler is not interested in appearance, only experience. Feminine clothes and high heels do not serve one on a five hour walk, so one no longer possess either. Clothes are functional now, not for show. I attract others like me. Since I travel alone I meet mostly other American men. I prefer the men I meet traveling to those I meet in bars when I am wearing lip gloss and smelling of Lolita Lempicka. They see me as for who I am, not what I look like. When travelers seduce each other there is a complete acceptance of the others shortcomings without judgement. You have ketchup on your thigh and my shirt has 3 holes, wanna make out? Normal people wish they could live like this.
The travelers code: 1) Dirty is a smell. 2) The grocery store is your friend. 3) Bring earplugs.
I would like to state a major difference between normal people, those who work jobs and 5 year plans, and the traveler. While I was working in Corporate America after graduating uni I would tell people I was working only to save money and go travel. This was regarded as something exotic, almost bizarre. Six months working for six months travel, and never any more power or responsibility than you could leave in a heart beat. While the normalite is worrying about a Power Point presentation, the traveler in the bar of a hostel in any given European city is scheming with other lost souls as to the quickest way to turn a buck and get back out on the road. My desire to extend my stay for as long as possible is only encouraged by those around me.
Barcelona
My trip to Barcelona rocked so hard that I have been recovering for two days. I cancelled my Tuesday classes and took off for Spain on Saturday. On the train from Montpellier to Barcelona I encountered my first truly UGLY AMERICAN since I have been back to Europe. His name was Randy and he was from California. He proceeded to question every North American looking person on the train as to their origin and formed a little American clique that I hate to say I was a part of for a brief time. Randy (what an awful name) only knew how to use a drunk ‘outside’ voice and proceeded to insult French culture for three hours at top volume. As he would (very loudly) as my opinion on this or that I could only reply in a proper ‘indoor’ voice and hope to god the train would go faster. When we arrived in Barcelona Randy screamingly demanded the origin of some Americans in the metro in front of a platform full of Spaniards. To the reply that they were Alaskan he hollered “That is almost American.” I hoped for one of them to push him on the tracks.
The two other cool American dudes and I agreed to ditch the UGAM, as we called him from then on, and head out on our own. We got into our hostels at midnight and headed to the nearest pizza joint for a slice and a European-style 40 oz. bottle of beer. I was in heaven. The three of us proceeded to party hard till 5 o’clock in the morning. We mostly drank at the hostel as beers were only 2.50 euro for a liter. We skipped around to other bars in the area but ended up on the internet at like 4 in the morning drunk emailing... never a good idea.
Sunday we headed up to check out Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia, a massive church in the middle of the city. We climbed the towers and tripped out on all the cool architecture. They have been building his original plan for over a hundred years and still aren’t finished. The church mixes like 10 different kinds of architecture and uses methods of measurement that Guadi invented. That guy had serious inspiration.
After some time we headed up to Park Guell and looked at Gaudi’s house, his mosaic lizards, and rock sculptures. There is a great view of Barcelona and the ocean from up there. Sunday night we proceeded to get wasted yet again in the hostel. I met a bunch of cool travelers from all over the world and played cards and pool. This was much more interesting than going to some loud dance club, especially since I was looking more like a tomboy than a pretty girl. I got so drunk at one point that I refused to speak English and the only people who could understand my French were the Belgians. To my delight they said I spoke the best french they ever heard an American speak. Oh la la.
Monday we rented sweet-ass Schwinn beach cruisers and rode around Barcelona a few hours. We rode along the beach and around the ports, around some parks and back up to Las Ramblas. The water was so blue it reminded me of home. I wanted to strip off my clothes and run into the water, but it was only 13 degrees Celcius.
What do you think we did Monday night? That’s right, got totally wasted in the hostel bar. After all that cultural crap one must conserve funds. I woke up in at 7am and had to go back to my room, get my bag, and head to the station for my 8:45 train. I forgot my freakin towel.
So all and all Barcelona was superb. It was great to be around travelers and people who are open to meet people. I traveled alone, but wasn’t by myself for long. I never felt threatened and was always laughin. My homey Matt from Seattle walked me back and forth to my hostel so many times I gotta just say thanks dude.
Gotta stay local for the next few weekends. Next month I have to entertain myself for two weeks over Christmas and New Years. Might go to Nice with some Aussie chicks for New Years. That would ROCK!
Shout out to Jimmy from OZ... you rock!
Send me emails, I miss having a full inbox: alexandrashaw@gmail.com
The two other cool American dudes and I agreed to ditch the UGAM, as we called him from then on, and head out on our own. We got into our hostels at midnight and headed to the nearest pizza joint for a slice and a European-style 40 oz. bottle of beer. I was in heaven. The three of us proceeded to party hard till 5 o’clock in the morning. We mostly drank at the hostel as beers were only 2.50 euro for a liter. We skipped around to other bars in the area but ended up on the internet at like 4 in the morning drunk emailing... never a good idea.
Sunday we headed up to check out Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia, a massive church in the middle of the city. We climbed the towers and tripped out on all the cool architecture. They have been building his original plan for over a hundred years and still aren’t finished. The church mixes like 10 different kinds of architecture and uses methods of measurement that Guadi invented. That guy had serious inspiration.
After some time we headed up to Park Guell and looked at Gaudi’s house, his mosaic lizards, and rock sculptures. There is a great view of Barcelona and the ocean from up there. Sunday night we proceeded to get wasted yet again in the hostel. I met a bunch of cool travelers from all over the world and played cards and pool. This was much more interesting than going to some loud dance club, especially since I was looking more like a tomboy than a pretty girl. I got so drunk at one point that I refused to speak English and the only people who could understand my French were the Belgians. To my delight they said I spoke the best french they ever heard an American speak. Oh la la.
Monday we rented sweet-ass Schwinn beach cruisers and rode around Barcelona a few hours. We rode along the beach and around the ports, around some parks and back up to Las Ramblas. The water was so blue it reminded me of home. I wanted to strip off my clothes and run into the water, but it was only 13 degrees Celcius.
What do you think we did Monday night? That’s right, got totally wasted in the hostel bar. After all that cultural crap one must conserve funds. I woke up in at 7am and had to go back to my room, get my bag, and head to the station for my 8:45 train. I forgot my freakin towel.
So all and all Barcelona was superb. It was great to be around travelers and people who are open to meet people. I traveled alone, but wasn’t by myself for long. I never felt threatened and was always laughin. My homey Matt from Seattle walked me back and forth to my hostel so many times I gotta just say thanks dude.
Gotta stay local for the next few weekends. Next month I have to entertain myself for two weeks over Christmas and New Years. Might go to Nice with some Aussie chicks for New Years. That would ROCK!
Shout out to Jimmy from OZ... you rock!
Send me emails, I miss having a full inbox: alexandrashaw@gmail.com
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Warm up
I am heading to the train station to go to Grenoble for a couscous dinner with some Frenchies in about 20 mins. I finally stopped being a vegetarian (gasp!) after ten years. I am just doing it here in France as the food is incredible.
I must update you on the French method of seduction when I return. It is comical and utterly baffling to say the least.
Saturday I am heading down to Barcelona solo-stylee. Staying thru Monday. Barcalona is gonna be amazing I am sure... hopefully I will pick up some more Spanish. I am really looking forward to some warmer weather and warming up for by break next month, when I will be a solo soldier again.
Still working on what I am gonna do for Christmas and New Years. Dont mind if I dont spend the holidays with my current friends, just as long as I am around party people in a party place. And did I mention warm?
I have been teaching the Simpsons this week using a comic book I have. It freakin rocks!! I never thought I would get paid to talk about Barney getting drunk at Moe's Tavern. Viva La France!
I must update you on the French method of seduction when I return. It is comical and utterly baffling to say the least.
Saturday I am heading down to Barcelona solo-stylee. Staying thru Monday. Barcalona is gonna be amazing I am sure... hopefully I will pick up some more Spanish. I am really looking forward to some warmer weather and warming up for by break next month, when I will be a solo soldier again.
Still working on what I am gonna do for Christmas and New Years. Dont mind if I dont spend the holidays with my current friends, just as long as I am around party people in a party place. And did I mention warm?
I have been teaching the Simpsons this week using a comic book I have. It freakin rocks!! I never thought I would get paid to talk about Barney getting drunk at Moe's Tavern. Viva La France!
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Return from the Other Side
Just got back from Strasbourg, where I spent a good part of my Toussaint holiday. On the train to Strasbourg with one hour to go a black man wearing Ku Klux Klan regalia boarded and sat two rows ahead of me. The face masked was pushed up over his forehead to reveal his dark eyes floating on his African face as if they worked independently of each other. A few seconds after taking his seat I began to hear the strangest noise coming from his quarter, what sounded like a pneumonia cough. I thought this self-hating individual was nearly drowning in phlegm when I looked at the horror on the French woman’s face seated across the isle from me. In that brief moment I perceived that this very black man in a white costume with a pointy white cap was spewing his cheap beer into a flimsy plastic sack as if he were casually reading the paper with a train full of disgusted travelers looking on. I am not ashamed to say the I was the second person to leave that car, right on the heels of a very green-looking French woman.
Jenny and I originally planned to go to Barcelona, but when her train ticket hadn’t arrived by the time we wanted to leave I just went up to her place and we made our way to Amsterdam for the weekend. To say it was awesome was an understatement. Friday night when we arrived we found the first smoke shop, happened to be The Rokery. We then proceeded to walk around the city and get lost for awhile until we went to our crappy hotel/hostel and dropped our backpacks off. Then we wondered to some more coffeeshops and proceeded to get the full effect of Amsterdam. We found our way back to our hotel by midnight and slept well, even tho one of our rooms mates was an Italian with a gas problem.
I should address the issue of drug use and Amsterdam for all of you judging me as a foolish girl who needs psychedelic assistance to see the beauty in the day. Pot is legal there and is smoke freely but responsibly by the Dutch. I don’t think it is for everyone, and I can surely enjoy the color of the sunset without it. You cannot judge it from abroad, but if you saw Amsterdam in action you would see that the legalization of drugs actually saves peoples lives.
Anyway back to Amsterdam, on Saturday Jenny and I were up and early to go get a bagel and rent a couple of bikes from a great place called Frederic’s by the train station. With wheels we were mobile in the most ideal sense possible in Amsterdam. Since the city is flat, the preferred method of transport by the locals is bicycle and the city accommodates this lifestyle like a mother accommodates the hunger of her children. Cars and bikes hold an equal footing in street politics and the roads are constructed to reflect this with huge bikes lane protected by raised curbs. Bikes give way to cars, people give way to bikes, and everyone gives way to trams. That being said, life on a bike in Amsterdam is so pleasant that if I should ever live there I will never dream of purchasing a gas-guzzler. We decided earlier in the day that we were going go to the Van Gogh museum. So went to the Ryks museum and then like the true dumbasses we are we went riding off a couple blocks south to try to find the Van Gogh museum. By the time we made it back to the green field we rode across we realized we actually drank a cup of tea in the shadow of the museum an hour earlier. We left the museum after looking at many swirling paintings and somehow completely missing Starry Night. The next hour we spent watching a hot air balloon in the shape of Vincent Van Gogh’s head be blown up in front of the museum. I joked that I would have never became lost and left the museum pavilion if they had decided to schedule the little show two hours before. What we decided to do next will be my fondest memory of Amsterdam for many years to come.
We went behind the museum, unlocked our bikes, and decided to take them to Vondel Park. Upon entering the park I saw the most beautiful autumn colors I have ever seen in my whole life splashed upon the canvas that was the landscape. Every turn held a new body of water, a new flock of birds, a new weeping willow grazing the surface of the water, a new scenario for my mind to grasp and let go. Fresh crisp air filled my lungs as my cheeks blushed from the cold. Jenny and I rode around that park for hours and hours laughing and watching the scenes roll by. At sunset we jumped off our bikes and watched the sun go to bed as it lit the sky a color pink that was once reserved for the flamingo. Then we hopped on our rusty steeds for another hour and a half of soaking in all the colors and scenes of the park until the chilly weather forced us to seek shelter. I cannot explain the way I felt watching a beautiful stretch of path laid out before me with the limbs of tall trees kissing overhead as autumn leaves dropped like tears. Oranges, reds, and yellows all spotted with brown reminded me of the Autumn I had always heard about in California but never experienced. I saw my life as perfect. Perfect for the ability of my body to ride this wonderful bike. The perfection of my eyesight. The perfection of a moment that so many people will never share. I felt truly blessed to be alive and in a position to see my good fortune.
Jenny and I had dinner in an Italian joint after the park. We road around for awhile longer, but by that time my narrow skinny ass had had enough of the bike seat and we headed back to the hostel. Sunday morning we woke up, ate some yummy falafel, and grabbed the train back to Strasbourg. What a great break.
For Christmas I do believe that I am going to Goa, India for a little beach and a little party!!!
Jenny and I originally planned to go to Barcelona, but when her train ticket hadn’t arrived by the time we wanted to leave I just went up to her place and we made our way to Amsterdam for the weekend. To say it was awesome was an understatement. Friday night when we arrived we found the first smoke shop, happened to be The Rokery. We then proceeded to walk around the city and get lost for awhile until we went to our crappy hotel/hostel and dropped our backpacks off. Then we wondered to some more coffeeshops and proceeded to get the full effect of Amsterdam. We found our way back to our hotel by midnight and slept well, even tho one of our rooms mates was an Italian with a gas problem.
I should address the issue of drug use and Amsterdam for all of you judging me as a foolish girl who needs psychedelic assistance to see the beauty in the day. Pot is legal there and is smoke freely but responsibly by the Dutch. I don’t think it is for everyone, and I can surely enjoy the color of the sunset without it. You cannot judge it from abroad, but if you saw Amsterdam in action you would see that the legalization of drugs actually saves peoples lives.
Anyway back to Amsterdam, on Saturday Jenny and I were up and early to go get a bagel and rent a couple of bikes from a great place called Frederic’s by the train station. With wheels we were mobile in the most ideal sense possible in Amsterdam. Since the city is flat, the preferred method of transport by the locals is bicycle and the city accommodates this lifestyle like a mother accommodates the hunger of her children. Cars and bikes hold an equal footing in street politics and the roads are constructed to reflect this with huge bikes lane protected by raised curbs. Bikes give way to cars, people give way to bikes, and everyone gives way to trams. That being said, life on a bike in Amsterdam is so pleasant that if I should ever live there I will never dream of purchasing a gas-guzzler. We decided earlier in the day that we were going go to the Van Gogh museum. So went to the Ryks museum and then like the true dumbasses we are we went riding off a couple blocks south to try to find the Van Gogh museum. By the time we made it back to the green field we rode across we realized we actually drank a cup of tea in the shadow of the museum an hour earlier. We left the museum after looking at many swirling paintings and somehow completely missing Starry Night. The next hour we spent watching a hot air balloon in the shape of Vincent Van Gogh’s head be blown up in front of the museum. I joked that I would have never became lost and left the museum pavilion if they had decided to schedule the little show two hours before. What we decided to do next will be my fondest memory of Amsterdam for many years to come.
We went behind the museum, unlocked our bikes, and decided to take them to Vondel Park. Upon entering the park I saw the most beautiful autumn colors I have ever seen in my whole life splashed upon the canvas that was the landscape. Every turn held a new body of water, a new flock of birds, a new weeping willow grazing the surface of the water, a new scenario for my mind to grasp and let go. Fresh crisp air filled my lungs as my cheeks blushed from the cold. Jenny and I rode around that park for hours and hours laughing and watching the scenes roll by. At sunset we jumped off our bikes and watched the sun go to bed as it lit the sky a color pink that was once reserved for the flamingo. Then we hopped on our rusty steeds for another hour and a half of soaking in all the colors and scenes of the park until the chilly weather forced us to seek shelter. I cannot explain the way I felt watching a beautiful stretch of path laid out before me with the limbs of tall trees kissing overhead as autumn leaves dropped like tears. Oranges, reds, and yellows all spotted with brown reminded me of the Autumn I had always heard about in California but never experienced. I saw my life as perfect. Perfect for the ability of my body to ride this wonderful bike. The perfection of my eyesight. The perfection of a moment that so many people will never share. I felt truly blessed to be alive and in a position to see my good fortune.
Jenny and I had dinner in an Italian joint after the park. We road around for awhile longer, but by that time my narrow skinny ass had had enough of the bike seat and we headed back to the hostel. Sunday morning we woke up, ate some yummy falafel, and grabbed the train back to Strasbourg. What a great break.
For Christmas I do believe that I am going to Goa, India for a little beach and a little party!!!
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