Happy new year, everyone!

So this year was kind of a big one for me. It didn’t start off all that well, but wow, did it pick up (with a bump along the way). There was one lesson that really was driven home for me, though. It’s the importance of maintaining boundaries.

Enforcing boundaries led to fights. It led to the ending of friendships. But it also led to me being healthier and ultimately happier. So as challenging as the experiences might have been at the time, I’m happy I was able to go through them and emerge stronger on the other side. It’s a journey I hope I’ll be able to continue on in 2020. For someone who never really knew what boundaries was, much less how to enforce them, it’s quite a liberating feeling to know that it’s okay to say no, to reject treatment that makes me feel awful, and to … well, not take on the world’s problems.

I’ll expand on this in a post in January, but for now, suffice it to say, I am in a healthier and stronger position emotionally than I was this time last year. And I’m not looking back.

All the best in 2020!

I’m at Charles de Gaulle airport, awaiting my flight to Barcelona for Christmas with my family there.

Admittedly, I did not expect to be speaking those words a year ago.

It’s been a year of some hard lessons, and some wild changes. It is most certainly not where I expected to be. But, despite the rough patches, I am most certainly glad everything happened the way it did.

The good stuff: Obvious reasons why I’m glad it happened.

The bad stuff: It has made me stronger than I could have imagined.

I’ll be posting note about that in early January. For now, I just wanted to thank all of you for being part of the journey. For the first time in a long time, I’m actually looking forward to what the future brings.

The rain in Spain falls mainly … in Northern France, apparently.

What you don’t see in a lot of stories about Paris is just how gloomy it can get here over the colder months. It’s been largely overcast for the past couple of months, with only some sunshine here and there. With the clouds has come a fair bit of rain. So you really appreciate the sunshine when it comes through.

And if you’re really lucky, you get to see a rainbow over the city, as happened here last week. That might make the rain worthwhile.

Might.

Sadly, I did not have time to find the pot of gold at the end of this rainbow, although I had a fairly good idea of where it might be. In fact, I had two options.

Sometimes, the walk to work can take your breath away.

After dealing with getting my phone stolen, I really wasn’t in the mood to go to Lyon for the weekend. But the ticket was paid for, and I was able to find a cheap-but-nice place on Airbnb, so I went.

My stomach thanks me.

First, though, I did arrive in the city in a good mood. Not only was I going to see my cousin and his wife … I saw ponies while on the train. A whole field of them.

You tell me you’re still gonna be miserable after seeing a field of ponies.

But yes, nice Airbnb. This is what I saw while waiting for the elevator:

Doesn’t get much more European than this.

Now, Lyon isn’t just known for food. It’s got some impressive ancient Roman ruins there. But two things you should know before checking them out. First, they’re on top of the hill, and there isn’t much food around there, so eat before or afterward. Second, take the funiculaire, because otherwise, your phone records this:

I found out about the funiculaire afterward. My legs screamed at me later.

But even with all the walking, this was the view that greeted me at the top:

There’s a whole Roman museum about the city’s settlement. And because it was the first Sunday of the month, I went in for free. (Many French museums have free admissions on Sundays, and that’s when the lines are at their worst. Here, however, I waltzed right in. Okay, I walked in. I can’t dance.)

One of the more stunning exhibits was tapestry from a large local home.

The museum had a temporary display on toys and games in ancient Rome. Interesting stuff — dice, for instance, were huge back then too. But perhaps the most striking were the baby toys. Allegedly, they were rattlers.

I dunno. I’m just telling you what I saw.

A few minutes away was a church visible throughout much of the city, given its location on a hill:

And next to it is a tower. Perhaps you’ve seen it before:

It is about as small as it looks, but because of its position on the hill, its top is higher than that of its counterpart in Paris.

That is the kind of petty I aspire to be.

There was also a place where many relationships have no doubt ended:

And this is all fine and good, but you’re waiting for the good stuff. Or, at least I was. The food. Lyon is known for two main things: Sauchissons, and salads. The salade lyonnaise is something you must try once in your life.

To say this was perfection understates how good it was. It had egg, potato, some sort of sauce. It was warm.
And it melted in my mouth in a way I didn’t think salad could. 12/10 would recommend.

My belly thanked me for a good three days. I thank my cousin Andy and his wife Anne-Laure for a wonderful lunch (I did not photograph the food then, but the bottle of wine we had was phenomenal). But this trip wasn’t done with the surprises. Upon arriving back in Paris, this greeted us:

So, as many of you know, I had my phone stolen not too long ago. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been silent — I haven’t really wanted to talk too much. Of course, it’s traumatic. It feels like a violation. Especially since the guy seemed interested in actually getting to know me. Of course, this is going to wreak havoc on my already-fragile esteem.

But there are some things to keep in mind. First, and probably most important: It could have ended much worse. It’s clear that this guy was intent on getting my phone. Yes, I lent it to him when he said he needed it. But what if I had said no? Would he have hit me? Pulled a knife? Used that knife? Ultimately, all he got was the phone and a bank card, which isn’t terribly useful to him. He didn’t take anything more from me.

Second, having a support network (both here and abroad) makes a big difference. From all the people checking in to those who went the extra mile, it’s nice to feel not so alone. (Special thanks to Nickii for getting on the phone with Amex for me when everything happened. It’s nice to know that someone has your back while eight time zones away. And to my sisters for fielding the call from a distraught me.)

Third, people will take the opportunity to profit off your misfortune. I bank with the post office here (it also sells phone plans, and apparently other things as well). When I went to get the bank card cancelled and replaced, which admittedly the bank did very quickly, I told the clerk that my phone had also been stolen.

She took the opportunity to tell me about the post office’s phone plans, and told me that I should consider changing plans.

I didn’t.

She also took the opportunity to suggest that I switch my internet provider.

I told her my landlord pays for that.

She didn’t care.

Fourth, the weather has weird ways of mirroring your mood. My coworker Rose came with me to the police station when I went to file the report. And of course, on our way there, what should strike, but — rain? Thunder?

No. Hail.

Because of course it would hail on us while I was on my way to the police station in Paris to report a robbery.

Anyway, I’m feeling better now. Phone’s been replaced (this time, with theft insurance). I’m currently in Lyon for the weekend. And things are looking up.

I guess into everyone’s life, a little hail must fall.

I was warned that a lot of things in France are stuck in the past. The banks are a prime example. This whole doing business from any branch thing — they laugh at you, as if such a concept was even possible. (Fortunately, their app does seem to at least be somewhat useful. But I must still exact revenge, ideally involving lots of glitter.)

Then there’s the music. I mean, I’ve heard Gala’s Freed From Desire more times since I got here than I did in the previous 22 years of knowing this song!

But I don’t think anything quite prepares you for the national warning system. The U.S. has the Emergency Alert System. Canada has Alert Ready.

And France … well, it has this:

Just be thankful those aren’t waking you up for an Amber Alert at 3 a.m., Canada!

As it turns out, I live next to an air raid siren. But that’s not nearly as alarming as it seems. The sirens you heard were part of the monthly testing. On the first Wednesday of every month, sirens across the country go off at the same time. Rather than sending a message to your phone, they’ll just blare the sirens, so you have to guess what the emergency is.

There’s a lot about home that I don’t miss — the safe architecture, the nightlife that seems to end far too early for the most part, the lack of joie de vivre.

I do miss some things, though. Having systems that work in the 21st century is one of them.

But I guess it’s a small price to pay for the view I have.

I’ve been a bit silent on here, and I promise to change that. A fair bit of illness has contributed to the silence. Nothing serious; just your run-of-the-mill colds. But enough to leave me without energy.

I’m still sick now. I believe I picked this one up in London, though, so totally worth it. And for those wondering, it’s not the one voted the second-best London year after year. No, this one is the one that always tops that list.

The trip starts with the Eurostar. There will always be something thrilling about being able to send texts and social media posts while under the Channel. Under it.

There’s a lot to see and do in London, of course. But seeing an old friend will always be at the top of my list.

Dan was kind enough to host me and show me around this past weekend. I’ve known him for 17 years, but haven’t seen him since 2012. Now that I’m here, of course, I’ll be visiting London more often.

Part of London is finding things that you might not find elsewhere.

This was on the way to the night’s festivities. And at Halfway to Heaven, I got to partake in one of my favourite things: A drag show!

Yes, the drag shows are a little less polished than you might see on Drag Race, but they’re a lot funnier too. Plus, you get to interact with these without having to pay $50 to take a picture of them. (For those in the know: Sum Ting Wong was on the docket, but we didn’t see her.)

But like I said, it’s seeing the old friend that truly makes the trip. And it’s one big reason why I might be planning a return trip in January.

Still, it was nice to return home, where I have been previously greeted with drummers right outside my window.

We got an email at work today, outlining several signs that you’re suffering from some sort of mental health issue. There were easily 20 signs listed.

I checked off at least 2/3 of them.

Being in this city has been great, for the most part. But there’s the stress of having to get my paperwork done. Of furnishing my place. Of adapting to the new job. Of adapting to the new job’s hours. Of dealing with the loneliness that hits once in a while. Of … well, uprooting my old life and starting over.

And while there are a lot of adventures ahead (hello, London at the end of the month!), there’s also a lot on my mind.

The result — I’m often tired. I’m often occupied with work. I’m often slow to respond to people.

I make no apologies for that. As with everyone, I need my alone time to recharge. I love me some good Netflix or YouTube, and I need to make time for that. Also, grocery shopping, and cleaning, and general rest.

Some of you might have noticed that it’s taking me a lot longer than usual to get back to you. There are no apologies for that. I see your message, and I will respond. I also appreciate people checking in on me — feel free to do so anytime.

But I’ve been everything to everyone before, and I can’t do that anymore. Right now, I’m not sure I can be anything to anyone.

I will improve, as I always do. And I will continue to have a good time while here. But I will also be focusing on myself. Because that’s a task I have historically been very bad at.

I’ll post a happier recap of the past few days, probably tomorrow. But for now, it’s good night. Bed is sounding really nice right now.

I took a 20 minute Uber ride Saturday evening.

I’m still not sure what to make of it, other than that it was one hell of a journey.

It starts with me at the Great Canadian Pub in the Latin Quarter. I get a message from a friend, inviting me over to a really interesting place called Ground Control. (No, my friend was not Major Tom.) So I ordered an Uber.

This is when the fun starts. The driver goes past a neighbourhood called Saint-Germain-des-Prés. He informs me that there are beautiful women here. Then he proceeds to say, “And after a few drinks, they get all fucky-fucky.” While making the humping motion.

He then added, “Women here can be quite socialist with their sex.”

Oh, wait — there’s more.

He then tells me that he has an allergy to latex. “That’s why I have two kids, and a third on the way.”

Oh, and if only they weren’t so expensive. “Here [in France], you have to pay for their school stuff, and all sorts of things. In [home country redacted], I could get away with paying 5 euros a month!”

I’m amused and horrified. Mainly the latter.

I’m wondering if I should report him, because that’s really unacceptable. But at the same time … wow. Just … wow.

What are your thoughts? Lemme know in the comments below.

If I’ve learned anything these past couple of weeks, it’s that I don’t think I can stay up until 5 a.m. anymore.

On the plus side, Paris’ nightlife is quite happening. No, you’re not getting any more details than that (unless you’re Liam).

Past couple of weeks have been kind of uneventful. Except for the request to work from home because of a threatened protest nearby. Oh, and my first train strike.

It’s a good thing I live within walking distance to work. Ten subway lines were closed, and four were running at one-quarter or one-third capacity. Only the driverless lines (1 and 14) were operating as normal.

That was probably still more transit coverage than the TTC at full service, but I digress.

Buses were sardine cans that day, from what I saw. I’m pretty sure it would have been preferable just to call in sick/work from home/do something else than take transit that day.

Except Uber. Surge pricing is a thing, and it stings when all you want to do is get home at 5 a.m. And sleep for 24 hours.

Edit: And right after I posted this, I saw this story. I guess I’m gonna get my political excitement in after all.