Take the Breath

Suitcase in hand, you head to the station. Your girlfriends' departure earlier that day, flying back to Canada by herself, had made those feelings of loneliness come back. You felt like you were back at the hospital, your lung collapsed from the pressure of the plane on the flight over to Venice, Italy. Doctors speaking to you and asking you questions with you having no real way to answer them back. No one to talk most days, except for Bridget coming to visit you while she teetered between stressed and panicked. Couldn't even sleep through the monotonous testing, they gave you no meds for the pain or the popcorn feeling in your chest.

Finally, you were released and the new lease you had on life originally coming over for the trip of a lifetime had not simply just been renewed. You feel zen, almost floating. Like you survived a bolt of lightning, but you're awaiting the next one to strike. Money seemed fruitless and credit no matter. You lived, and you had very little time. Or so you thought. The doctors inform you about the collapsed lung, unsure as to the cause, but regardless agree that flying would pop the other functioning one and kill you. Your only means of transportation across Europe will be trains or automobiles.

You're contacted by the Italian U.S. Embassy to ensure you're taken care of and if there's anything they can do. Unfortunately, they cannot upfront you money on a boat ride home or aid in overbooked cruise ships. Your only means back to North America is a cruise ship leaving in a month. Europe is yours to explore, and although your budget was already spent and this mishap has canceled many of said bookings your outlook shouldn't be changed as you never know the next time you'll be able to do this. Either because of financial means or you're plain dead.

The two of you make your way through Venice for a few days, finding a new place within the floating city to stay and peruse a while. Taking a train from Venice to Paris you arrive around midnight in Paris. You get a meal and try and find you're one-night stay for the evening. Accidentally getting on the wrong train and being taken out of Paris and an hour into the dark countryside of France. After a few panicked words between yourself and the staff, you're informed the train is returning to Paris and you won't be charged. It's 2 A.M. and Bridget and you both are exhausted, and she's a tad infuriated with your quick decision making for hopping on the wrong train. You end up making it up to her the next day by fulfilling a dream of hers, taking her to the Moulin Rouge, and surprising her with tickets for late that evening. 

On the train, there is this sweet girl across from you gently cupping a bird with her hands. The bird is nestled in her hands, not fighting or wrestling. Now and then it would open its eyes or move its head at the sound of something loud like a child crying or people getting on and off the train. You can't seem to keep your eyes off this serendipitous bird, feeling pity for its pain but too stunned to see how trained it was. Weirdly, you can relate to this bird, both of you injured, unable to fly, in a new place, and being cared for by a lovely girl that seems lightyears out of your league.

Taking the same train back later that evening you both decide to go to a different restaurant than the one you had eaten prior to in the day. You both ate and drank to your heart's content and made your way as the show was opening its doors. Before we made our way across the road we asked a nearby couple to take a photo of us and in turn, we returned the favor and took some photos of them. 

  Strolling up to the theatre ready to take advantage of the fine seating and skipping the lines. You hand the tickets over to a bald man dressed in a tux who towers over you, he informs you both that you have tickets for the wrong night. You're shell shocked, to say the least, stating you just bought these today for today and won't be in Paris for the next show. He calls someone on a walkie talkie to walk you both to the box office to sort things out. The box office person you had dealt with wasn't there but one of the others that remembered you thankfully. They pulled up your purchase and saw the bookie misprinted your tickets for the show the following day, thankfully they were able to fix the error and got you in past the mob of people entering the building. Going through velvet ropes and numerous security members blocking each section of entrances. Flying past all the people, they open the doors and begin escorting us to our seats in the high rises before the general population comes in. You've never been treated to luxury like this and it feels blown out of proportion but it also feels so damn nice. 

The show went on, with all its dance numbers that told stories of Paris going through eras of all sorts. From life on the high seas to the thoroughfare o the Renaissance to the Revolutions throughout their history as well as the wars. With theatrical numbers and techniques, flying men and women, and a pool full of snakes and half-naked women swimming in them, a couple of roller skating and throwing each other in loops and spins on a small platform no bigger than them, and on and on. It was amazing and enticing. As you exited the show both of you have to use the bathroom, and coincidentally run into the couple that took our photos and vice versa outside the venue before the show. Both Bridget and you come chatting out of the bathrooms as you notice each other is paired with the other's significant other. Their names were Miriam and Alex and they couldn't have been nicer, but you could tell the security was trying to push people away from the Rouge and onto other places for the night. So you decided to get a drink together. They took you both to a nearby bar, Clichy's Tavern, something they had their eyes on earlier in the day they said. Barely noticing that by the time the show had finished it was near 2:00 AM and thankfully the Tavern was staying open late. The whole way we were chatting with each other about what brought us here. 

Finally, we arrived at the Tavern and got a seat towards the back as the place was crowded with people. Bridge and you sitting on one side and Alex and Mirriam on the other. They had bought a round of Bourbon that was hard for Bridget to put down, by the name of Four Roses. Somehow you get into a deep conversation as Mirriam begged to know your story as Bridget had hinted at bits as the two of them were talking. Knowing how boring a one-sided conversation can be you managed to mix up the telling so that both of you have at least a chance to talk and not have to "bare through" having to hear the other drone on. You've been on the receiving end and have a pretty good knack for seeing when someone's lost interest. 

  She tells you how it began for her family on an island off the coast of Sicily on the small island of Malta. How devout her family is to their religion and how at one point they arranged a marriage for her, but after the would-be fiancee beat her it was canceled. She was squirreled away on a missionary trip to Australia to escape the abusive ex-fiancee. In Australia, she met Alex who was a native to the area. He had grown up abusing drink and drugs for a long time, on a whim he and his friends ended up at the church where he laid eyes on Mirriam. That night he knew he had to have her, which sounded quite familiar to you. 

By the end of the evening, it was near 6 A.M. the employees never shooed you out and you tipped them heavily for their kindness and generosity. As you and the rest of the group make your way out of the Tavern Alex and Mirriam want to wake up in a few hours and sightsee together, but both Bridge and you already know, as heavy sleepers, the likeliness of it wasn't there. Mentioning the possibility of another late night is shot down as they inform you that this was there last day in Paris and they were going to stay with a cousin of Alex's in the countryside of France. We said our fond farewells and went our separate ways. With no means of contact but a simple email, you never hear from them again, but still, hope they are doing better than well.

Your days in Paris are spent during the hottest record days in the city since the 1970s. In the background, without your knowledge, the relentless heat, the increased tourism, and numerous other factors in the city are about to ignite the Yellow Jacket Protests. As this is going on you're trying to make contact back to your employer about your teaching job come September. You've been in the dark with them for what seems months but has been weeks. Finally, you're told by the Superintendent that due to you're circumstance and not returning in time your services will not be needed for the following year. You've just been fired. It makes you bitter, sick, and angry. You feel a pain in your chest and it's not your lung for once. 

Realizing your financial support just fell through the floor is terrifying. You still have a month and some change left in Europe. Your credit cards are your only saving grace in this situation and you haven't maxed them out, yet. Unfortunately to save money you have to send Bridget home. Your car is still parked at the Canadian airport and could be towed, not to mention you have to have someone pay the rent on your apartment. It took a lot of arguing but you convince Bridget and your family that you'll be fine alone in Europe. If anything this is your dream, utter freedom to explore a foreign land. It almost couldn't have been planned better, besides almost dying. You and Bridget end up exploring the rest of the sights to see in Paris, have a bad experience trying to get into an Airbnb for hours whilst walking around with your luggage. Finding a new and more accommodating host by the name of Momo. He lets you use his residence above an Arabic cafe for an extended stay, even whilst you go off to Mont Saint-Michel and leave some of your bags at his residence.

Not far from the beaches of Normandy, Mont Saint-Michel is beautiful, a monastery placed atop a high hill, protected by a castle-like fortress surrounding the island that is itself surrounded by the waters of the English Channel. The sights are beautiful, the food and tourist attractions less so. You stay on the island for 2 nights and 3 days when you finally decide to return to Paris. Momo doesn't charge you for the days you are gone since you're coming right back. You have one last evening in Paris with Bridget, sleeping that night is hard as you're about to say goodbye to your partner. A van picks her up in the morning and takes her to the airport. Your tearful goodbye sticks with you all day, making you not desire to go out anywhere. You are officially alone, and begin your plans as to what you want to see. Deciding to kill two birds with one stone you take your laptop in your pack and search for a place to eat, drink, read, and plot for a few hours. Two French gentlemen share the table next to you and at some point must have heard you say something as they ask about you being an American. They claim to be inefficient at English but your discussions range from the current climate in Paris to global warming and geothermal energy. Not necessarily anything you're well versed in, but you appreciate the company nonetheless. On the morning of your departure from Paris, you leave Momo some gifts on the made bed.

Suitcase in hand, you head to the station. You arrive early at the same train station you had come in via Venice. Your anxiety is a little high as you had purchased the tickets the night before and from the size of the crowd, it could get tight. You're not claustrophobic, but after being seated behind some gentlemen that smelt as if they hadn't showered in weeks for 8 hours you could do without the packed sardine experience. After a few hours, the train arrives, and sure enough as you board it is already packed. You and a few other stragglers have to find seats in the luggage cars of the train. Smashed between stairways leading on and off the train and luggage that filled the rafters and hallway. You're in a tight compartment filled with women of different origins and ages. Two adolescents from England on their way to a rave in a hot spring in Prague. A woman from Asia on her way to a presentation in Belgium that asks you for pointers in English on her presentation. Lastly, an elderly New Jersey woman that kept to herself with the occasional chirp in the conversation the five of us shared. The two English girls were partying until the wee hours of the morning not realizing how early the train left. One of them fell asleep on the floor and kept getting barraged by suitcases that would occasionally wake her from her deep slumber. 

Hours later we are finally able to find some seats as more passengers get off and we rush ahead of those about to board. It is short-lived, just as you are getting comfortable you pull into the station, and a new sensation of relief washes over you. Welcome to Amsterdam. As you exit you say goodbye to the people you met on the train and make your way to the hostel. Once you get there via public transport and climb the shrinking windings stairway to the third floor you can finally relax. You come to Amsterdam during Pride Month and this week is the final festivities to celebrate it all. You venture out and rent a bike ride, visit a few smoke shops, see a couple of free shows, and enjoy the beaches and parks aplenty. So many kind people from all over the world seemed to congregate there and kept mentioning that you should stay as soon as they hear your reason for still being there. In your last few days of Amsterdam, you are able to find a jazz club to smoke and drink at and a karaoke bar that lets you belt out Bohemian Rhapsody. It's a beautiful city and one you must come back to. 

You end up taking the train from Amsterdam, through the English countryside all the way to Wales to board a ferry to Ireland. You end up in a pub in Wales waiting for the boat meeting a charming fellow by the name of William. He introduces you to the other locals in the pub and has you join in on a game of snooker. After a couple of beers, you begin to head out and he asks for a fiver, but not to let anyone know he asked. You sigh and give it to him as his company was enjoyable if not a little cumbersome. The ferry arrives and your journey lands you at the docks outside of Dublin near two in the morning. Not realizing the currency changed between these two countries you beg a driver to take you to an ATM to get the money to get you to your next place of stay. You arrive at your stay in the wee hours and crash till the next afternoon, meeting your fellow boarders who were hitchhiking from France. You go out shopping to get some warmer clothes, rent a car, and drive through the southern rolling hills and countryside of Ireland all the way to Galway and back over a course of a week. In Galway, you cross paths with a bachelor party and are invited to the shenanigans. Sightseeing and enjoying people's company and stories. You visit distillery's galore and pick up a thing or two in Gaelic. On return to Dublin, you return the car and hop on a ferry back to the U.K. Your ferry is late and the train you were supposed to take is no longer available. You are forced to ride all the way back to London and have to find a new place to stay with only your phone and hours to spare before you arrived. Thankfully a last-minute host accepts and you go through the most elaborate system to obtain a key you've ever seen. You find a new host, visit a few more pubs and go to your first ever soccer game being held in Wimbledon stadium. There you befriend some soccer hooligans with a beer and they take you out on the town. Finally after exploring everything you see you go to King Cross's station and after many panicking hours find the bus attendants to take you to the cruise ship where you safely ride back to the United States and arrive in New York and take a train back home safely.