Updates: Three More Months, University, Nostalgia

So an acoustic version of Trojans by Atlas Genius just came on my 8tracks, which naturally spurred a bout of nostalgia. Which of coursed progressed to me opening up blogger and deciding to spew my feels at you. Deal.

(Sips Glitter and Gold DavidsTea. Excellent.)

So there are 107 days left of my Paris adventure. Which is all at once terrifying and comforting and depressing and just weird. Because I remember coming here in August and being like ten months. Ten months seems like an awful long time. Especially with no friends or family or anything familiar at all. But I soon met some of my dearest friends and went on some grand adventures and began to travel the world and all of a sudden the new year was upon us, then February was over, and then yesterday I go on google and it's like happy first day of spring. And I have to pause and register how fast time goes by. Which is sometimes a comforting feeling, in all honesty. Because I love Paris, I really do, and I know as soon as I leave I will miss it. When I'm stuck in a boring part-time job working my ass off in school I will miss it, and my freedom, and walking by Madeleine every day. But for the time being, it's comforting to know, in the back of my mind, that there is a finish line. And at that finish line will be all the people I miss so very dearly. And even temporarily, I will be able to spend days upon days wrapped up in their warmth, never once feeling lonely or scared. Because it gets lonely and scary living on your own four thousand miles away sometimes.

I feel so very far from that girl working at the pet store saving her pennies and having panic attacks about pre-calc and history SOPs and dreaming of a faraway land called Paris, while Trojans was slowly killed on 102.7 The Peak every single day. I must have stacked 6000 bags of dog food to that song.

So the next chapter of my life is called University, and it's exciting and scary and yet it can't be scarier than moving to a different continent by yourself.

It was a very hard decision to decide to go home for school. There will be a part of me that will always lust for the unknown, that is never satisfied, no matter how many planes I set foot on. But what I need right now is not more risk taking, more stretching. What I need right now is not to move to Montreal two weeks after getting home. I need home, I need oceans and mountains. And I need my people. And that's okay. There is always time for more adventures. Heck, I think I've had my fair share of adventures this year, and they're not over yet.

So UBC is where I'll be next year, with my best friend by my side. And I couldn't be happier.

As for the tail end of my year of freedom, I am planning to soak up all of the sunny Paris that I can. And then there's Italy, where I'm planning to explore Rome and Cinque Terre.

Thanks for always being there. Love you always.
Coral

perks of studio living

I thought I would be wildly claustrophobic living in a fifteen square meter apartment.
I sometimes am.
But, the optimist that I am (sometimes), I have decided to compile a list of the perks of living in a closet.

1. A cup of tea is never more than ten steps away. No more running upstairs to fill the kettle, then awkwardly hovering while it boils, or leaving the room and missing it pop, and we all know how irritating it is to have to re-boil a kettle.

2. On that note, cooking is made much easier when you can practically cook pasta from your bed. Well, not quite that cozy, but not having to run up and down stairs or jaunt from room to room while your pasta boils over is quite nice.

3. The temperature is easily regulated. One space heater makes the whole place nice and toasty and opening the two windows freshens out the whole apartment.

4. I am constantly surrounded by things I love. Because of the tiny space, I am forced to prioritize the knick-knacks I have on display. And because I can see the majority of my home from my bed, I need only glance to this wall or that to see the letter my best friend wrote me when I left, the maps I've accumulated from my travels, the LPs I brought with me, or the countless cards and photos I have hung from a string with clothespins.

5. Cleaning is a breeze. Half an hour flat. A dustpan and brush here, a swipe of a cloth there, a tidy over here... and presto. From landfill to pristine with minimal energy expenditure.

I love my home, I really do.

It will be sorely missed.

Love always,
Coral

BASTILLE

I must write this right now.
Because my ears are ringing and my heart is still pounding and my skin feels alive. My veins are crawling with the sweat and pounding beat and throbbing melodies of the concert I have just witnessed.
I didn't expect this much.
To be honest, I had become slightly out of touch with these music makers I had cherished a year ago.
To give some backstory, Bastille were the ones blasting on my iPod last spring when I pounded the pavement on the way to work as the sun beat down on my face and I dreamed of a foreign land I would soon be living in, of a mystical place I had only dreamed of. I remember every inch of my body throbbing to leave the place I was in, and for the time being, they were the ones who reminded me there was more out there.

{under the weight of living//you're under the weight of living}

So I got here. I made it. I'm living in this city that swells with its presence, and as Lexi and I walked to the metro after the concert, the air was thick and full of the honey of summer. And I felt very much alive. I hadn't been feeling so alive in previous weeks. I think I had gotten out of touch with myself a little bit, and had been taking mostly everything for granted. Tonight reminded me of community, everyone pulsating in time, drawn together by a communal need for music.

{this is your heart//can you feel it, can you feel it//pumps through your veins//can you feel it, can you feel it}

Towards the end of the night, Dan played Flaws, my favourite song. And not only that, but I turned to my right to see that he had descended into the pit, and was making his way towards the centre, where I stood. Caught up in the tidal wave of people, and Dan in there with us as he sang, I felt the warmth of his hoodie beneath my fingertips and I realized that he is human, just like the rest of us. We are all in this psychotic dance to the finish line together and we are all fumbling for love, for togetherness, for life, for music.

{you have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve//and I have always buried them deep beneath the ground}

All in all, thank you Bastille. Thank you for reminding me what a thrill it is to shoot down the albatross.

Love forever and always,
Coral

Berlin Day 2

Sorry for the delay folks. My computer was in a coma.

Alright, so my second day in Berlin began (as is tradition for my over-excited first mornings in new places) with an early morning stroll to the Berlin Wall Memorial at Gartenstrasse. I won't try to convey the feels because there are too many and you can probably tell just from looking at the photos what an intense place it was to be. The metro station there, Nordbahnhof, was out of service during the time of the wall and used as an escape route for East Berliners. The wall of memorial photos for fatalities at this stretch of wall was so very impactful. One of the boys was just thirteen, and so many died just before the wall was destroyed.

I then took a casual and sun-filled walk to the Reichstag, you know, as you do. It was huge. And very surreal.

To calm my feels, the next stop was a stroll through my favourite place, the Tiergarten, and it was amazing. Daughter's "Woods" was playing through my mind the whole time.

look who I found!

The Victory Column in Tiergarten

Okay, so, the one time I took the metro in Berlin was to get to the East Side Gallery, arguably the most anticipated spot on my itinerary. Again, there are no words, and for that I am sorry, since as a writer I am supposed to dispute the "a picture is worth a thousand words" cliche. But in this case, it really is. The East Side Gallery is a mile long stretch of preserved wall that has been covered in politically-centered graffiti. The result is something beautiful made from something horrible.

Of course, there were so many more, but that would clog like my whole blogger platform. So. 

And then I had a 2.50 noodle box back in the Tiergarten as the sun set.

The last stop on my two-day trip was to Checkpoint Charlie, which wasn't much more than a few mock signs and a mock U.S. army checkpoint, but it was still cool to stand there, and very symbolic, I might add, as I crossed the checkpoint from east to west to get a McDonald's hot fudge sundae.

Berlin, tu me manques.

I hope to see you again.

Love always,

Coral