" Getting To Paris "

Getting to Paris is not an easy task, even when you are only 12 hours away by train. The stress of the trip started when a week earlier we had found out that we had bought the wrong eurail passes and were not able to get on the train as planned to paris. So adding the stress and excitement Becca and I had a painting open house in the cathedral the night before leaving for Paris. So we had to set up all day, finish painting, get food, and work all day with no time to even think about Paris. We relaxed at the exhibition with some wine and good times with friends. And it was really nice to show off my work to the school who had not even really known i was a painter. I felt that when everyone saw my work many thing about me clicked and I could see it in there eyes.

One thing that let me unwind and really relax before Paris was one special conversation. Chubby my friend in the adjoining room grabbed my arm and lead me to the side of the room. She asked if she could talk to me a minute with this serious undertone. This was a little off for her, so I listening with open ears. Giving a little background information first, Jim my new painting teacher from University of Georgia is awesome. He only deals with graduate master of fine art students. And I have much respect for the man and his abstract work. Back to Chubby, she had said:

"Dena I have something to say to you, that I think you will be very pleased
to hear. Dena I walked in the cathedral early and I saw Jim leading his
colleges across the room to your paintings. He went through each piece
and explained my process and thinking of each piece. And how my
idea of process was something he admired"

I stopped in awe and shoved her just like Elaine on Seinfeild, she went on...

"Jim said that you were on a steady path of finding your style and you work
hard for it, and you were one of the most naturally gifted artists he knows.
And he was excited for what is to come for me."

I pretty much got teary eyed and had to stay in the corner of the room and finish my wine before I could be released back into common conversation. I sat there in a haze and everyone whirled by in the room. I thought of how tomorrow at that time I would be on a train for Paris. I thought about how my summer had been spent everyday creating art for hours a day, then learning the history of art before me, then seeing the art I had learned about for years. Even the down time of each day is spent bouncing ideas other artists, attending gallery talks weekly of professors, and sketching sketching sketching. I thought that it might be too much before I left to be dropped into this sort of world. And not until that moment had I even thought of consumption I found myself in. And I was beginning to see the side effects. And they were amazing. I tried not to let it get to my head, but I did think about all the people I was over here in Italy for, and how comments like that were a little for me and a lot for them. After that the drunken kids and mostly boys coming up to me saying I was best in show didn't really mean a thing.

So after that we had a nice dinner and I went to bed excited for the day to come. I had a critique at eight in the morning with extra work because I was missing class. After that was over I had a few hours to bounce around the dorm. I had of course already packed the day before and I had nothing to do but think. Ow and how I thought. I got myself so excited I just made sure my girls were going to be ready as well, and then I headed to town early to relax. Just before one o'clock as planned I saw the girls walking down the hill and my stomach dropped. We were about to start the journey.

The bus to the train station was the first of many tasks. We got to the station around 1:15 and of course our train was late my twenty minutes. So this got us to the main station in Florence around 3 o'clock. Now our train to Paris that we wanted didn't leave until nine that night, but we had unfortunately bought the wrong tickets so he had lots of work to do. Long long story short and many italians later, it took us three hours to change our Eurail Italy tickets to international, pay the difference, validate the new tickets, then get seat reservations for the night train there, AND then cause the train back was full... we had to plan a new route back from Paris through Milan to Florence. It was exhausting. But that the women helping us seeming like she did not give a shit if we were nervous she had been working there her whole life and she would fix it. She was flipping through take out menus the whole time. It only added to the comedy.

So with time to spare we grabbed some food and jumped on a train to the next closest Florence station, where our night train would be leaving from. After everything we only had about an hour to wait. We played some cards and danced around like freaking idiots. Then at 8:53 P.M on July 19th 2007, my train to Paris arrived. I remember I said goodbye to Italy and we all jumped from Italian soil onto the train that would take us to France. We scurried into our section couchettes numbers 71, 72, and 73. We got in and no one else followed. In a six person cabin we were the only ones, the train starting moving. Before getting too excited, I put a fifteen minute timer on my watch. Fifteen minutes which was spent dancing fingers crosses to our song entitled "We on our way to Paris, were on our way to Paris, and we might get our on room, We believe we believe!" Then my timer went off and we flipped out even more. We did not have to share with smelly old men, it was just us. After a brief talk of what we were about to get ourselves into, we knew that in order to have a full day tomorrow we needed to get to bed. So we brushed our teeth in the hall sink while about falling over with every rinse, and washed our faces with water that was clearly marked no drinking for some reason. Then after a brief fight with the packaged sheets and pillows I wrote in my journal my thoughts of the past days and the days to come. I put my Ipod on and slept with a smile.

In the morning we awoke to find we were running an hour late and due to arrive in Paris at 10:30. So with an hour to go, I went and got some tea from the restaurant cart, sat down, and said good morning to France alone. It had rained the night before while we slept. Which made it all the real. Everything was different to me once again. I smiled and was ready for the next precious hours of my life to unfold.

To be continued..

The End Paris Paris One