enfin le soleil

My house is full of people right now. I've always loved houses full of people, and it was a rare occasion chez moi when I was young, so it makes me happy even if I don't really know the people who are currently occupying my house. It's like a holiday or something (knowing France, it probably is a holiday and I am just unaware).
One of the people currently in my house is a guy named Philip, who was Micka's housemate for a few years when they were strapping young men or whatever. Philip hates cheese, for which he is ruthlessly mocked, mostly by Micka. He has very long eyelashes and a long face, which make me think irreversibly of the Grinch, though Philip is not at all a Grinch. He mumbles when he talks, and the first time he came to visit in November or whenever, I remember not understanding hardly anything he said. Now I only have to say quoi ? comment ? every once in a while, which is good because after a while that becomes truly penible.

It is also penible to always talk about the weather, but I must tell you that the sun and sudden burst of warmth is making Albi radiant. It has never been more charming. When the sun is out, I love every minute of living here. It changes everything. Today I took my lunch down by the Tarn and was staring wistfully across the water and found myself thinking, I could live here forever.... and then I had kind of a moment of reveille when I realized where my thoughts had gone and I began to laugh at myself. Of course a picnic by the river in perfect weather would make me feel like I never want to leave.

Speaking of leaving (and I mustn't, for it makes me all anxious) that is unbelievably soon. I've been here for five months now. I am on the home stretch of my work contract (month of March, one week at the beginning of April, and one week at the end of April) which is simply unreal. I was talking to Philip about this the other night, and he said something interesting to me, which is that now that I have really seen what it is like to live here, I can make an informed decision about where to live. Huh ? Whachoo mean, Philip? Well what he meant was, if there ever was a time to say, yeah why not live in France for a while/forever, now would be it.
When I was in Istanbul I met up with my friend's sister Hayley who lives there. I didn't know her before, but I figured it would be fun to have dinner with her or something since, you know, I was in Istanbul. So we did and it was great, and anyway she's been living there for five years. She moved there to teach when she was about my age, and just kind of stayed. And for her it just makes sense for her to stay, at the moment she sees no reason to leave, she has made a life there. The best part, the true reason why she has no desire to leave Istanbul, is because of her bed. "But I love my bed," she said. Her perfect Turkish bed can't go back to America with her, so she stays in Turkey with the love of her life, a bed.

Oh dear, I am attached. It's like when you find a kitten and your mom is like, no you can't play with it, no you can't bring it home even for just one night because you'll get too attached and then when you can't keep it, it will be like the world is crashing all around you.

Micka admitted today that he might even shed tears when I leave. But with dignity, clarified Philip. Yes, with dignity, I agreed. If Micka, strange little man that he is, who yells at me for touching the dishwasher and when I'm baking yells from upstairs ça sent cramé !!!!! even though he knows very well that nothing is burning and he is just trying to get to me, if he sheds so much as one single tear when I leave, what kind of sorry state will I be in? But I mustn't talk of leaving, for there is still time that remains.

more istanbul : the blue mosque