Some rough times in paris

Life happens anywhere you go, and a few weeks ago it seemed like everything happened in a row.
I had a weird weekend with some drama among my friends here, then I was chilling with my friend Sam at a cafe down the block (L'Ariel), just having a beer and relaxing outside, when some bullshit went down. A guy came up seeing her pack on the table and asked for a cigarette. She said no, and he saw my phone sitting on the table, snatched it and ran. I shouted "Fuck You" and booked it after him. I don't even know what I was thinking or what I would have done if I'd caught him, but it was just instinct to chase him. I was right on his heels for like 3 blocks, and I don't know how I kept running so long, but he turned a corner and disappeared! I checked in every store on the block, but he must have gone into an apartment or something.
I went back to the cafe, found Sam (who had packed up all of our stuff), and we went in to ask the cafe workers what we should do. Paris really got me mad here, because they completely didn't care. As Sam was packing up our stuff, no one came out to see if we were ok, or see what had happened, even though he'd knocked over a beer and there was clearly a distressing situation of some sort. We asked if we should call the police and they just said "they're not gonna come." They then proceeded to lecture us about leaving things out in the open. It was on the table for like 3 minutes, since I'd just answered a call from someone, and Parisians put their phones on cafe tables all the time! They told us to go to Place d'Italie, to the neighborhood police station and report it. The whole walk there me and Sam were venting about how messed up it was, and pointing out people at cafes with their phones on the table. We wandered around the Place and learned about 4 words for police station, since people never understood the last one we'd learned and insisted another word was more "courant." Finally we got to the police station, waited in line, and filled out some paperwork that we learned was really more for the sake of the neighborhood than my specific phone. They're pretty much never gonna find it, but at least now they know there was one more robbery in the 13th arrondissement. Poop. Well it happens I guess, Yoko apparently has lost 8 phones in the last 2 years, Laura got her phone stolen out of her bag, Portia got her phone stolen out of her pocket. At least I got to yell at the guy, and give him a bit of a fright hehe.
I've now put a ban on the Ariel, since they were so mean about it, we'll see if they can win back my business by sheer convenience. Fortunately my friend Antonia had an extra phone from when she switched phone service, so I didn't have to pay extra to get a new one. It's working fine now, and I've gotten most my contacts back. I did go about a week without a phone though, which was really crappy.

My legs were absolutely sore for a few days after chasing him, since I haven't been dancing or anything in a while. Worse though was that my foot hurt, I was really worried I'd broken it or something because it just got worse over the next few days. I started orientation for my school program the next day, and we did a lot of walking around Paris, Versailles, the Louvre, etc. most the weekend, and I was unfortunately limping for a lot of it. It's feeling better now though, I think it just needed rest.

Then that Saturday I was hanging out with some of the new kids who came to start my program, just chilling on some wine in their dorm, and it was rather late when I decided to go back to my dorm. Little did I know that my family had been trying to get a hold of me all day, but couldn't because my phone was gone, and I was hanging out with kids who also didn't have phones yet since they'd just arrived. So I came home and found Laura and Yoko, who told me to call my mom immediately. They'd gotten a scary message from my mom, so they got a hold of me old-fashioned-style and showed up at the dorm.
I got my computer and got on skype and everything, and found out my grandpa died. I'm glad I've got some good friends here at the dorm because it was kinda hard, but I was mostly worried about my family at home. It's hard to be separated from people at a time like that. My brother in Nicaragua, my cousin in Argentina, and me were three lone wolves who couldn't come back for the funeral. Over the next few days we talked with each other a bunch, and with random members of the family through skype and facebook. Technology truly is amazing. My dad skyped me in to the wake even, and I got to say hi to a bunch of aunts, uncles, cousins, and even my grandma. I wish I could have really been there with everyone, but I'm glad I could be there in spirit, and digitally.
That next week I started classes, and I think the day after the wake I was walking around Paris doing my thing and I got a crêpe. I thought of a story my grandpa had told me about the french. I'm not sure when or where but I get the feeling that it was sometime during the war. He came across some french guys making pancakes, but the minute the dough would start to rise in that wonderful way it does, they'd Slap it back down with the spatula. It would get those bubbles and rise a little more, and Slap they'd flatten it again! I saw the guy making this crepe on the Rue de Rivoli, and I had to laugh. My grandpa was right, that is Not how you make a pancake.
I've been thinking about my grandpa a lot, and I can't wait for my cousin Matt's wedding in fall, when all the cousins will be back in town and we'll be able to reminisce with everyone together. We've all got a lot of great memories with my grandpa. Dancing with maracas for a sick son, playing dress-up with a persistent granddaughter, or just fishing on Powers Lake, he'll always be with us.