Time Traveling

If I could go back in time to any one point right now, I'd want to be back in France, back in the summer of 2004 when I went on vacation with my family. My computer screen flashes all the digital pictures I keep on it, and the one of me in a shabby hotel in Nice caught my eye as I was doing my homework. In it, I'm holding a 3 euro bottle of champagne in the air, dancing around in delight as my brother laughs at me and snaps the picture.

After days of making terrible jokes about how nice Nice must be, we hopped on a train that afternoon leaving my mom and dad behind so we could get a taste of the beautiful south of France. We exited out of the train station in Nice, walked a few blocks and grabbed a bottle of champagne, and then walked a few more until we found a hotel that cost only 40 euros a night. I love and miss that sense of spontaneity we had. Neither of us knew the land or the language; we had no idea where we going or what we would do; but we hopped on a train in the middle of Europe and went on our way, hoping for the best.

Unfortunately, however, we didn't find the best part of Nice. We quickly wondered into what was clearly "the wrong side of town". Graffiti was prevalent, laundry hung out the windows of the apartment, and the streets were desolate except for several sleazy old men strolling the streets smoking cigarettes: it was essentially a 21st century Moulon Rouge. I was just waiting for the prostitutes to come out on the balconies in their red ruffled dresses to drink whiskey with their lover Pierre before breaking into the can-can. And we didn't exactly find the highest quality hotel either, but it was what you'd expect for 40 euros a night: two dormitory style single beds, a 14 inch tv that was dangerously close to falling from the stand that held it to the wall, and a tiny bathroom that had just enough room for you to walk into it, turn, and sit down. But we had our champagne which, despite the fact that it was bought from a French bodega, was superb. Had we not had to pour it into two 5 inch clear plastic cups on top of a wobbly fold up table, I would have thought I was at a five-star bistro.

Though our living situation wasn't luxurious, I had two of the best nights of my life there in Nice. Freddie and I had a great time that first night and on the next our friend Johnnie, who has been living in Cannes, met up with us to continue the festivities. In our time in Nice we made some friends, a few enemies (Johnnie doesn't get along with the Germans),and some of the greatest memories ever. It was all so perfect. Sitting here in my room, attempting to balance my extremely hectic schedule for the remainder of the semester, I long for that week in France when I didn't have a single stress. Not once did I need to worry about what I would be doing the next day, hour, or minute. I just soaked up the early summer sun, sipped my wine, and enjoyed the time with my family. I love that none of us cared about seeing the sights. None of us wanted anything more than to sit outside and eat long lunches, stroll through the towns of central and southern France, and maybe take a few pictures by a public condom machine or a topless perfume model.

It's hard doing work knowing that next semester I'll be in Madrid. I try not to think about it to much because, most importantly, I still have several weeks left of school to get through and also because I don't want to build it up too much in mind, only for it to be a disapointment. But I am looking forward to going, to being back in Europe, to taking a break from the fast-paced Northeastern lifestyle. I think its something everyone should do, and nothing anyone seems to regret. I just hope that my friends will be able to visit me while I'm there and if they have time, maybe my brother and Johnnie, so we can have our European reunion. Only this time, no peeing in my suitcase please.