what’s in my bag: accident prone tourist edition

It’s no secret to my friends that I’m a Buzzfeed addict, and after reading this article on photographer Jason Travis and his “Persona” project, I felt inspired to root through my own bag and photograph its (blurry – damn you, iphone 4S camera) contents. I always love seeing these kinds of photos, I feel like each person’s bag is like a personal time capsule and offers an intimate glimpse into the history, personality, and current lifestyle of an individual. 

These is the collective assortment of items and memorabilia that I currently carry around with me everywhere I go (in my Aunts & Uncles “Joker” bag):

♥ Fossil wallet – I bought this last year for myself for my 24th birthday, because I decided it was time that I finally had a “grown-up” wallet, and not just a Lululemon gift card pouch with coins in it.
♥ Fossil coin/card purse, unfortunately very dirty from use.
♥ Small notebook for scribbled shopping lists, lists of songs to sing, lists of places to try, detailed directions for Airbnb locations…it has black cats on it, because I love black cats!
♥ unisex Fossil watch – collective birthday present from relatives last year
♥ Canadian passport!
♥ French phone with a French phone # I can never remember…so when guys ask me for my number, I have a legit excuse not to give it…not that this happens anyway.
♥ Extra large Band-aids, particularly good for scraped knees. I used to run in the dark, it’s hard not to fall…
♥ “The Exorcism of Sally,” a mini illustrated storybook from my sister at Christmas. Wicked humour.
♥ Keyring with house keys, a keychain from the Eiffel Tower in Paris, a wilderness whistle from Grouse Mtn., Vancouver, a mini Swiss Army knife, a key to my cubbyhole at the lycée
♥ Mini MUFE lipstick (I obtained a Sephora membership for the sole reason of getting the birthday gift every year), Burt’s Bees lip balm (that I am using up very slowly because I can’t find it in France), mini L’Occitane Mûre et Magnolia perfume, mini Nuxe Huile Prodigieuse. Mini things for a mini person!
♥ Smith’s Rosebud Salve that my younger sister sent me from Canada for Xmas, haha.
♥ My lycée cantine/entryway card. Every time I go to the Intendance to put more meals on my card, the secretary forgets who I am and asks me what grade I’m in. (The woman at the lycée entryway office asks me “Who is it for?” assuming it’s for a teacher when I go to ask for supplies like whiteboard pens). #ForeverYoung!
♥ Heart shaped pocket mirror from a gift shop across from the Palais des Papes in Avignon.
♥ 7 Year Mustache Pen & pen with Canadian flags from Victoria, BC.
♥ an SNCF luggage tag and a Paris Île de France – Toulouse train schedule
♥ SNCF Carte Jeune :) further proof that I am #ForeverYoung :P
♥ and tickets for: the buses in Avignon; the cinéma in Cahors (Tu Veux ou Tu Veux Pas?/Brèves De Comptoirs/Imitation Game VO); the movie theatre in Burnaby (How to Train Your Dragon 2, Captain America 2 x 2); a play at Granville Island, Van. (Kim’s Convenience); an outdoor concert for Ed Sheeran in Ambleside Park, Vancouver; the regional treni in Cinque Terre; Roman ruins and museums in Nîmes, Nice; the téléphérique in Grenoble; the tram in Lyon; a little train and vineyard tour in Saint-Émilion (Bordeaux wine region); the croisière on the River Seine, and the Eiffel Tower summit!
♥ business cards for: a “French” café called “OUI Paris”  in Burnaby (it’s cute, but very pretentiously overpriced imo, sorry), Hostel Baccarat in Nice, and Adrenaline Vancity, tattoo parlour on Granville Street where I got most of my tats done, woop woop.
♥ USB stick with episodes of Season 8 of Doctor Who and Season 4 of Downton Abbey, and a bunch of articles/worksheets for my students at the lycée.

That seems like a surprising amount of stuff for one small bag. Thank god for mini cosmetics and the ability to store an abundance of memories on small slips of printed paper!

 

 

Doors of Cahors, Part 1!

Ever since the first day I set my daintily shod (new pale pink flats, holla! [sadly, now stained and wrinkled]), albeit sweaty feet on the narrow, cobblestoned streets of central/old Cahors, I’ve had an insistent yearning for photographing the ancient doors that front the rocky walls of these mostly still inhabited homes that date back to the Middle Ages. This yearning was burning like the urgency one feels when they are stumbling around with a full bladder, and continues to ignore it, hoping it will go away, but it only gets stronger. Not that documenting doors is an emergency, but as it’s said, “tomorrow never comes,” and if I kept putting it off, I would never get around to taking these photos by the end of my seven month long stay.

So, today, graced with a beautiful, cold, sunny December dimanche and a half charged iPhone battery (hint: a portentous sign of regret), I set off to meander the maze of skinny little streets that surround my neighbourhood. Here is the amazing collection of door(way)s that I’ve stolen the souls from today (Minor caveats: Some of the doors are photographed crookedly, because it is impossible to get a good photo head on, the streets are too narrow, so unless I were to back into somebody’s home, I couldn’t take an ideal photo. And/or, the street was on a hill, and I can’t change physical geography, so tilt your head and pretend you were standing on the street with me, d’accord?) :

This first set of photos are of doors from my street, whose sign is visible in one of the photos – Rue des Soubirous! Each one is marvellously old and unique and betrays the significance of what they are called in French – portes, since they seem to have the power to act as portals to the past.

Rue des Soubirous!

a side street leading to the main Boulevard Gambetta

these arches lead to “caves” which used to be cavernous, open aired shops in the Middle Ages!

This next set is from my downward stroll towards Vieux Cahors, and I could barely hold back from drooling over these delicious doors that I found on my tangential quests onto side streets. The many variations in style and colour made me think of The Gammage Cup, one of my favourite childhood novels, in which the rebels or “Outlaws” of the Minnipin (hobbit-like people) village, “Slipper-on-the-Water,” defied the law requiring them to paint their doors green, and instead, painted their doors, red, yellow, or blue. Know what else made me feel like a Minnipin? The closeness of the buildings, coupled with their height, left me wandering often in the shadows despite the sun still shining overhead the mossy, tiled roofs. (I need to learn to walk on stilts one day). That, and the fact that some doorknobs are located smack dab in the middle of the door, like those of a hobbit dwelling! (Aren’t they aDOORable?)

blue doors are the best!

why would anyone put a sad lion dead centre on the front of their door??

It’s a good thing that it is Sunday, and relatively quiet, because it must have already seemed bizarre to the rare passersby, to see a little Asian girl zigzagging back and forth along a street, taking photos of doors! I can’t help it, the doors where I come from are so boring in comparison! Good thing I can play the “I look foreign, so I’m obviously just a harmless tourist, not a spy (please don’t take my camera away from me)” card.

so sketch

a doorknob, a knocker, and a sign!

And that wasn’t far from the truth, when my errant feet took me into tiny streets entirely new to me, and I nearly got lost. I noticed that as I got further into Old Cahors, the streets and doors became smaller, and I apologetically but truthfully wondered if the average American would be able to make it into those buildings, a.k.a. the only time I considered feeling smug about being short.

Then my battery died on me, and my freezing feet, now warm from walking, began to feel the blisters developing from breaking in my new boots, so I high-tailed it home like the technologically dependent addict that I am, so I could turn on my laptop and write all about it on my blog, while charging my phone at the same time. (Home is where the wifi is!) Also, my analogical urgency of stumbling around with a full bladder was replaced by a literal urgency, and though the streets were deserted, I had no wish to be caught squatting by someone yelling, “Urine trouble, mademoiselle!” Though, come to think of it, this is France, and “urine éliminée difficulté,” as suggested by Google Translate just doesn’t have the same ring to it. Ah, Sunday Punday. Merde, it’s Monday tomorrow.