Please utilise this space to search this blog

Friday, October 24, 2014

Paris: Conversations in the key of ascent

Paris (France)
19 SEP 2014

You know that buzz that inhabits your body the day after you’ve done something particularly cool, or that sense of satisfaction that you get from achieving a goal? That was me, at that very moment. I’d woken up mid- early morning to a very foreign, yellow hued glow coming from the streetlights along the Seine, cheekily breaking their way through the sheer window curtains of the apartment. Completely uninvited of course, but its Parisian light and the standard rules for courtesy don’t seem to apply here in the manner and style that they do elsewhere. I do however like these moments when in a foreign city.  Laying in silence and listening to the sound of a solitary vehicle making its way up Quai de Montebllo, I imagined it to be cutting through the early morning tug-a-war between synthetic light and shadow. I tuned in on both its arrival and departure from two floors above its transit line. It’s funny, but in eternal quiet you never really capture the solitude and isolation of what that silence actually means until it’s actually broken. It’s why I liked that particular moment, I was alone, ‘somewhere else’ in this world that wasn’t home, and to me that’s always an exciting prospect.

If both the lesson and achievement of day before was the execution of a surprise then today was going to be the realisation of my own piece of destiny.  To quote a saying that my mother often spruikes , ‘It’s not to whom it is said or written, but rather, to whom it is destined’.  Only now, looking back do I know that I was never going to obtain that ever elusive ticket to the World Cup final in Rio, nor was I ever going to have an afternoon in the sun-bathed vineyards of Saint-Émilion, even though the plans had been set, it appears that my destiny was always going to be act as Parisian tour guide for my parents and  to find myself on a somewhat impossible first date with a gorgeous girl that I’d met in Riga just the once 4 years ago. Some stories you just can’t create, not without the intervention of fate.
 
19 Quai de Montebello - sunlight breaking through - Latin Quarter - Paris - France

The lonely solemn streets of a Parisian dawn quickly turn into fervour, induced completely by the banal necessity of daily Parisian life. The intense noise of city streets in the morning  have the tendency to annoy me, well, annoy me when I’m still in a muted slumber. It’s the not due to the volume of noise either but rather its weight and intensity. The energy and earnestness, the urgency and eagerness, the implied anger and frustrations, somehow there’s a transference of that irritable energy to me and I always feel compelled to ditch my intentions and get moving.

Cutting through the backstreets of the Latin Quarter I fell back into my earlier mood of excitement and exhilaration. These backstreets  were still empty, yet to be tapped on the door by the streams of sunlight that had already cut across the continent from the far east.  Here, in these small hours, I could still own snapshots of this day that nobody else  in the world would ever see but me. That’s cool.
Something for me - Rue Galande - Latin Quarter - Paris - France
 
Coming to rest in the living room of #42 Rue de la Harpe, I stuck my head out the window and gazed at what I could only assume to be the typical Parisian setting in this part of town. French style architecture bounding small medieval type streets, filled with false French balconies that more often than not supported pots filled with colourful flowers. I just sat there for a few moments to appreciate to vista. Then I heard the laboured movements of my parents coming from their bedroom, attempting to stir themselves into daily existence.
 
Outlook from #42 Rue de la Harpe - Latin Quarter - Paris - France

The disbelief of the night before was still very much with us, along with the continued questioning of how I managed to pull off the stunt. Dad kept repeating that he was certain ‘Up until the last Skype conversation’ that I was on my way to Paris for an ‘intercept’, thankfully that conversation convinced him otherwise.
Black coffee, croissants and the smoke of my mums’ cigarettes filled the quaint Parisian apartment. I think it was one of those rare times when I could handle her cigarette smoke, and even considered it charming in the given setting. Enjoying the conversation of the morning I outlined our plans for the day, ‘Tour of the Eiffel tower in the morning, afternoon lunch, open top bus tour, then finally a dinner cruise on the Seine’. It sounded like full-time work from the start but something that I always get a lot of pleasure out of doing, which is, seeing the enjoyment and surprise in the faces of the people that I love when they discover a new place.
 
Parisian breakfast - Rue de la Harpe - Latin Quarter - Paris - France
 
Rue de la Harpe - Latin Quarter - Paris - France
 
Your 'breakfast cliche', brought to you by Paris - France
 
As our taxi cut through the mid-morning fracas of traffic on Quai Voltaire and turned left onto Pont de la Concorde I could see that  there was visible disbelief in the faces of my parents. Disbelief from the fact that they were actually in Paris and disbelief that I was undertaking such a mundane task of catching a cab with them, in Paris too! In their minds I was still back in Sydney doing ‘who knows what’, and yet here I was, occupying one of the jump seats just as the cab pulled up to the Palais de Chaillot which overlooks the Jardins du Trocadero.

On its own the gardens of the Trocadero are impressive in their grandeur but the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ that you hear from the top of the stairs of the Trocadero are always reserved for the centrepiece of the French capital, the Eiffel tower.
Mum and dad at the Palais de Chaillot - Paris - France
 
The Eiffel Tower taken from above the Jardins du Trocadero - Paris - France
 
Eiffel tower - Paris - France
 
As iconic as a building can be I would challenge anyone to name a structure that identifies a city and country more readily than the tower. All of its impressive 301mtrs of stature can be viewed from the steps of the Palais de Chaillot, apparently a fair rarity in this city. It’s a funny thing, but after seeing their reaction and remembering my own when I first saw the Eiffel tower, I recall that I only truly realised that I was in Paris after I had seen the tower with my own eyes. So to say that the Eiffel tower ‘is’ Paris would not be any sort of grand overstatement.
.
After finding our tour guide only at the very last moment we all made our way down through the Jardins du Trocadero and to the base of the structure. Now it was time for a dose of reality. Whereas standing from afar and appreciating the tower can be lesson in awe, the crowds of hungry tourists waiting for their own piece of Eiffel can be a lesson in ‘necessary patience’. From ground to level 2, from level 2 to summit, your space is constantly occupied by ‘unwanted’ clients who may have more vigour and purpose in their ascent than you. Still, this is Paris, and this is what you do ‘ the first time around’. So when we all reached the summit and cast our eyes on what really is a grand city, we allowed ourselves to indulge in three ‘chilled glasses of cliché’ and appreciated the over-priced champagne at the none-too creatively named Bar a champagne that occupied the rooftop of Paris. Still, it will always be one of those fond moments that will be easily retrievable from the memory banks.
Champ de Mars from the Eiffel Tower
'Tower shadows' - Paris - France
 
'Smile for the cliche' - Champagne at 'Bar a Champagne' - Eiffel Tower summit - Paris - France
 
Looking down the Seine from the summit of the Eiffel Tower
 
Our afternoon was spent back in the heart of the Latin Quarter where we pulled up a few chairs for a late afternoon lunch at a fairly typical bistro. I was still hoping also that Air France was going to ‘express courier’ my lost luggage in the afternoon and wanted to be within striking distance should they have considered it time to do work that afternoon, of course I need not have bothered! My luggage wasn’t delivered until 2:30AM on the morning that I was scheduled to leave. An absolutely pathetic performance from Air France from start to finish! Devoid of customer service, completely shambolic in both their approach and treatment of me, it was the worst dealing I’ve had with an airline in all my time travelling.
.
As another glorious Parisian day started to wind down and those familiar sunburnt hues started to occupy the rooftops of the buildings in the Latin Quarter once again, I sat in front of the large French windows that provided a wonderful outlook over the Seine, directly in front of Notre Dame and the Place Jean-Paul II,  within touching distance of ‘point zero des routes France’, in other words the ‘official centre of Paris’. I marvelled just quietly at how lucky I’d been with the weather thus far. Checking ALL forecasts prior to arrival I had anticipated the worst that Paris could offer with cloud, rain and heavy thunderstorms projected for ALL days. Here I was, nearing the end of my second full day and already I had had several randoms comment to me how unseasonably warm and spectacular the weather was. Indeed, if I could have placed through my own request to Mother Nature asking for the days that we actually ended up receiving then I’m sure the trade-off would have required the sale of a kidney.
As the lights of Paris started to take hold, all three of us were picked up on Rue de la Harpe for our Seine dinner cruise on the Bateux Parisiens. This was to be an absolutely wonderful 3-4hr boat cruise which gave us the chance to view some of the highlights of Paris along the Seine, with a more than adequate four course meal and champagne/wine to  place us in exactly the right type of mood. Making its way effortlessly up the left bank, the remaining sunlight relinquished its authority of the day and gave in to the artificial light of the night that admittedly was even more impressive. Gazing out from our glass cacoon we witnessed the grand sights of Paris silently move through our frame of vision, a kaleidoscope of colour on the water. Ducking under more than a hatful of the total 32 bridges that span the Seine, by the time we had reached Notre Dame my mind had fully started to occupy the space of that I was dedicating to where I would be at midnight, because as you know, all great first dates commence in Paris at midnight! (Of course ;)).I looked up to the apartment that I had left earlier in the afternoon and knew that by now she had arrived, now I just has that internal urgency to be there right at this moment. I wasn’t at all nervous however, just extremely excited.
 
Bateux Parisians - On the Seine - Paris - France
 
Bateux Parisians - On the Seine - Paris - France
 
Bateux Parisians - On the Seine - Paris - France
 
Bateux Parisians - On the Seine - Paris - France
 
An hour or two later we rounded Ile aux Cygnes after having our ‘cup runneth over’ with spectacular views of the tower lit up at night. It really is a sight to behold, although you definitely have the tendency of taking more photos than are really necessary. By the time we docked and were underway through the Parisian night my head was already trying to picture a moment, a face, an instant that I (we) had now been in the planning for 6 months, all the while, attempting to retrieve images of an evening in Riga that occurred 4yrs ago. So by the time I took the walk from Rue de la Harpe to Quai de Montebello I was ready, buzzing internally.
Bateux Parisians - On the Seine - Paris - France
The Eiffel Tower from the Seine
The Eiffel Tower from the Seine
Making it to street level at 19 Quai de Montebello I entered in the two pin numbers that gave me access to the building and made my way up to the 2nd floor, heart pounding just a little more frequently. Reaching for the keys and turning the door, I saw that lights had been dimmed, and there she was, sitting against the window with the lights of Notre Dame illuminating her frame and acting as her backdrop.

I looked at her...

…and she smiled



Friday, October 3, 2014

Paris: 'You're not normal!'

Paris (France)
17 SEP - 18 SEP 2014
 
I was lambasted, harangued, taunted and humiliated for even considering to wear a pocket chief with my trusty black blazer and resplendent jeans, let alone allowing to convince myself that I could execute the fashion feet, which in turn meant that I had directly placed myself in the firing line of whatever this now unforgiving audience could conjure up. In hindsight it was over the top but I had allowed myself a small indulgence of Parisian couture ahead of my midday escape. Hence I honourably endured the well-mannered taunts of work colleagues that had collectively changed the pronunciation of my name to ‘Henri’ for the entirety of the meeting. There are, admittedly, far less unpleasant things than sitting in a team meeting, looking out over Sydney harbour to north head and accepting the good natured jibes of your co-workers for concocting one of the coolest surprises going around town at the moment. Well, it was going to be the coolest surprise in this town only until  about midday really, as I mentioned, I had a 3pm flight out of Sydney and into Paris via Abu Dhabi and Amsterdam in order to execute my incomprehensible, and lets say it, ‘enigmatic’ surprise. And hence I  continued to stare, with eyes slightly glazed, focusing on the path of a Manly ferry as it progressed from Vaucluse to Circular Quay, cutting through the deep harbour blue, and thinking to myself, this was going to be legendary!
 
 
Meeting room view - 'Say what you want guys, I'm focused elsewhere' - Federal Courts of Australia - Queens Square - Sydney
 

View from my desk, it's 'ok' - Federal Courts of Australia - Queens Square - Sydney
 
This idea was the resultant distillate from the essence of several other trips that I had been in the midst of planning in earlier months whose own identity and life I regretfully had to relinquish due to the onset of reality, i.e., a full time job with little or no scope for leave in its first few weeks! How can you not give a new starter in a role leave immediately? Especially when the reason for leave was to go to the Football World Cup!? I mean seriously, where’s the compassion? Where’s the justice? Who’s running this Federal Court of ours?

Plans were felled, ruthlessly chopped down by the brute force of reality. Reality then lent its own requirements to my mind whereby I was finally able to construct an awesome holiday from the ruins of all those that went before, with one simple catch, I would not be involved in the execution of any of those plans, as in, the next holiday benefit would have to be paid forward to some lucky recipient! The actual benefit to me therefore? Good question…the benefit to me was allowing to place myself into the role of travel agent for my parents and to send them to places that they would never have arranged for themselves and never have dreamed possible, for various reasons. One of those destinations was to be the City of Lights, Paris.

Planning trips on behalf of other people for me is easy. It usually starts with one great idea. On this occasion it was this, ‘They have to have dinner at Jules Verne’. For those that don’t know, Jules Verne is a Michelin start awarded restaurant located on the 2nd floor of the Eiffel Tower. It’s somewhere that I’ve always wanted to go and it was the first thing that came to mind when constructing the ‘epic Parisian’ four day get away for them.

Inspired by the thought of dinner at Jules Verne I then crafted an itinerary like a feverish Ebola victim, manic, careless, brutally unkind to my own well-being (financially), I settled upon the following plan. Let me roll it out for you now, because I know it like the back of my hand;

Thursday 18th of September - Depart Belgrade 06:00 – Arrive: Paris 09:15 – Airport pick-up and drive to the apartment on Rue de La Harpe in the Latin Quarter – (afternoon at leisure) – (evening – dinner at Le Restaurant @ Le Hotel)
Friday 19th of September – (Morning – tour of the Eiffel Tower), (afternoon – Bus tour of Paris), (evening – Seine dinner/river cruise)

Saturday 20th of September – (morning – Louvre museum tour), (afternoon at leisure), (evening – Moulin Rouge dinner/show)
Sunday 21st of September  - (morning – walk of Montmartre), (afternoon at leisure), (evening – dinner at Jules Verne restaurant)

Monday 22nd of September – Depart: Paris 10:10am – Arrive: Belgrade: 12:35am

The itinerary was crafted in my mind over weeks, figuring out how many iconic places and sights I could cram into the four day period, each time wondering ‘What could I do that tops that?’, ‘What would  they really remember?’… then that last question somehow stuck with me, ‘What WOULD they really REMEMBER?…’. All these places and sights were great but I know in myself it’s the placing of a fantastic, unexpected moment in a specific location that makes that moment truly unforgettable, and then I had my inspired moment, what if, without telling them, I flew to Paris whilst they were there and perhaps ‘casually’ ran into them somewhere…actually,what if, knowing their itinerary I just ‘happened’ to stroll on in whilst they were having dinner at one of the venues I had organised for them!?  What kind of freakin’ surprise would that be!? There would be no way in hell that they would see that coming!! Now that’s the type of idea that deserves to earn the title of being capital of the land of EPIC! The idea then planted itself so firmly in my mind that from the moment I thought it that until when it happened there was not one single second when I thought of  changing it, or of doing something different or forgetting about it, it was ON!
As I sat on a shiny plain white table near departure gate #18 at Sydneys’ Charles Kingford Smith airport, looking onto the main runway, I thought of all the various components that went into planning this jaunt, but mostly I thought of the complete looks of dismay that I was going to inevitably receive from pulling off a stunt of this magnitude. Sitting there in my own headspace and mulling  it over for a little while I heard the boarding call for Flight KL3937 to Abu Dhabi.  I looked at my newly acquired mate ‘Oz’ who’d also taken up residence with me on this glossy table and thought ‘Ok, now it’s definitely on…lets go and do this’!!!

12 kms above the Indian Ocean - Etihad flight to Abu Dhabi

Etihad flight to Abu Dhabi

 The flight to Paris was relatively uneventful, with stops in Abu Dhabi and Amsterdam. It was only when I arrived in Paris that the trouble that I intuitively felt was coming with several luggage handovers actually eventuated. There in the arrivals hall was my name, printed in dark blue on the electronic boards, HENRY ELISHER – KL1229 -  AMSTERDAM – TO BAGGAGE SERVICES. Ahhhh DAMN IT!!!! I knew what that meant! I knew before departing  Sydney that this was going to happen, so confident was I of this scenario that I actually tried to negate the issue by ONLY having carry-on luggage! The problem with that plan however was that my carry-on luggage came in a few kilos overweight and I  therefore had to check it in. I remember in Sydney, watching my back track away down the conveyer belt thinking, ‘I hope we meet again’, and yet here I was nearly 24hrs later, at Charles de Gaulle airport, standing in queue at Baggage Services, waiting for the inevitable news that some bright spark baggage handlers in Amsterdam had hit the ‘wacky tobacky cafes’ pretty hard the night before and had sent my bag on a cargo flight to Nigeria. Expected time of return, NEVER!!
 
Home of KLM - Schipol Airport - Amsterdam - Netherlands
 

Now this is how you get to a first date, you fly in - Schipol Airport - Amsterdam - Netherlands
 
Now to deal with the hassles of having no luggage. Actually, more like the hassles of having to deal with a first date in Paris with no luggage, no toiletries, no anything! I did still however have my trusty Boss suit in tow, at least that was something of a suitable default. Now  my head was filling with disjointed thoughts of newly formed requirements  drawn from this base of small misfortune, thoughts such as ‘damn, need to buy a new phone charger asap’ and ‘what’s my signature scent going to be now???’, making appearances in my head as I sped south on the RER from CDG to my stop of St.Michel/Notre Dame. Usually, may I say, situations such as these this irritate the living daylights out of me, but I’m not sure whether it’s my more ‘mature’ age or whether it was the situation as a whole, but mostly the issue of my lost bag was met with an internal ‘c’est la vie’. I was in Paris now and I had some big days planned no matter what.

Exiting at  St.Michel/Notre Dame station I surfaced in the heart of the Latin Quarter and immediately I remembered why I love Paris so much. There’s such a charm, elegance and sophistication that you can’t find anywhere else. It’s the epitome of what ‘being European’ is but in a distinctly French way, and therefore for me it’s a city that I am very much fond of. Making my way down to Quai de Montebello on a magnificently bright, warm day, I saw Notre Dame come into view as I crossed the square Rene Viviani, reminding myself of scenes out of the move Before Sunset where the main characters, Jesse & Celine walk the same road up from Shakespeares’ bookstore in the opening scenes.
 
Notre Dame from square Rene Viviani - Paris - France
 
Notre Dame - Paris - France
 
My home for the next few days was to be an open and bright apartment on Quai de Montebello which had an unbeatable aspect straight over the Seine and onto Notre Dame, yeah I though, this is  working for me…this is alright. The sun just appeared to be that much brighter today and given that the forecast for these days in Paris had provided the forlorn hope of ‘rain, cloud, late thunderstorms’ for each day, then this sunshine seemed to me to be the justified trade-off for my bag remaining in perpetual transit.
 
View from the apartment - 19 Quai de Montebello - Paris - France
 
My early afternoon was fairly mundane to be fair. Running around to locate an iPhone charger at an FNAC near Chatellete/Le Halles, undertaking toiletry shopping in the Latin Quarter and acquiring a bottle of red wine along with the consumption of a red wine chaser on the Rue Saint-Jacques. It was all very grounding, setting the scene for what would eventually be the coupe de grace at Le Restaurant that evening.

The decision of having dinner at the restaurant of L’Hotel was made in part by recommendations from Tripadvisor and part from the memories I had of watching one of my first ‘No Reservations’ shows on the travel channel. Actually, it was from the same show that the wonderful world of Chez Robert et Louise was brought to my attention also, the restaurant that currently owns the title of ‘…What Henry Elishers’ last meal would be..if ever he was required to have a last meal because he ended up on death row for being overtly stupid’.

As the late afternoon sun lit the rooftops of the French capital and they were soaked in their various burnt orange afternoon hues, I left the apartment, suited, booted and donning a pair of newly acquired Ray Bans, I felt uncharacteristically cool. I mean how many times do you fly across the world, get dressed up and walk into a restaurant with the notion of surprising someone in this manner? If your answer to that question was zero, then you’re wrong, you get one chance, and that’s why with this one chance I wanted to make sure that I got as close to perfect as possible
Walking into L’Hotel I felt enlivened, this moment was going to make a bold entry into the ‘memory charts’ and knock a few of the favourites by the wayside. By the time I had walked from the apartment to the hotel I had given myself about 30 mins of certain space prior to their arrival. My game plan was to wait at an open and visible table in the L’Hotel bar, which in fact you had to pass through to get to the restaurant in any case, and just watch the realisation of what was happening hit them squarely in the face like a sledgehammer. I ordered up a St.Germain sour from the bar,  took my seat ringside and waited for the show to commence, all the while fielding texts from all over the world wanting to be provided with a blow by blow account of what was happening. I think half the time I spent in the bar was replying to texts message of people that were nearly as eager as was I was to find out how this would play out!

Le Bar @ L'Hotel - doesn't it just sound better in French!? If you said 'The Bar at The Hotel' in English you would sound like a tool! - Paris - France
 
Waiting for impact with a St.Germain Sour - Le Bar @ L'Hotel - 13 Rue de Beaux Artes - St.Germain -  Paris - France
 
As the minutes ticked down and passed into overtime my brain started to play tricks on me. I questioned whether I had the right date, the correct address, whether they may have had any reason to have cancelled this dinner. I had well and truly rounded my second St.Germain sour and had set my sights upon a third when I saw the familiar style of movement of my parents as they entered the bar. No we were close, the moment of impact was nigh! When I say style of movement I mean that I recognise how these guys move when they enter an unknown place, there always appears to be an air of confusion, turning around, looking for seats, pointing at vacant tables, it’s always a production of indecision and hesitation. I knew this would happen. Which is exactly why I had selected a table that could be easily seen. I also knew that they wouldn’t ‘see’ me as such, that even if they saw a person sitting at a table their brain would not comprehend that it was me in this distinctly unfamiliar location. It was in those few seconds of their confusion that I realised just how cool an experience this was, and as my mum spun on her heal looking for a vacant seat she turned in my general direction;
You can join me if you’d like’ – saying it to the both of them as they constructed their dance of disorientation.

As my mum picked up on a familiar voice and looked straight at me I pointed at the two vacant seats at my table and said again;
Sit here if you’d like’

I saw her facial expression change and then I saw it, the realisation of what was going on just hit home and now this was the instant that I had planned months for!
Looking squarely at me she just repeated ‘You’re not normal, you’re just not normal’.
My dad, being a second or two behind the game connected fully and just started shaking his head, ‘Unbelievable…unbelievable…but you know what, I knew it, I knew that you might do something like this. I even said it to Tanja and Vladimir the other night…’
 
'...You're not normal Henry'...'I know :)' - The 'gotcha' face - Le Bar @ L'Hotel - Paris - France
 
Gotcha too! Dad just before he told us that he 'knew something was fishy' - Le Bar @ L'Hotel - Paris - France
 
I just laughed out aloud, not in that fake ‘lol’ sense but in the actual, laughing out loud’ sense. Their reactions, but more so their expressions were absolutely priceless.  Then came the inevitable 101 questions on how long I’d been planning this? How did it come into my head ? Why they were running late? How long had I been waiting? What was the weather like in Sydney? What was the weather like anywhere…?? But just those reactions and that conversation made it all worth the effort that I’d put in over the months prior to that.
The dinner at Le Restaurant was fantastic! A wonderful 7 course meal organised by the chef with wines to accompany every 2 courses.  All of us now, running on that excitement high probably chatted too loudly and a little over animatedly regarding what had just transpired but in all honesty we didn’t care. For me it was one of just one of those times when you can just sit back, enjoy the moment and say to yourself, ‘Well played sir, well played’.
The 3-4 hours that we spent at Le Restaurant came and went all too quickly. The setting itself was charming and elegant without being pretentious, and whole moment was as close as I could have imagined it being to the one that I had planned out in my minds’ eye all that time ago.
 
Dinner at Le Restaurant - L'Hotel - 13 Rue de Beaux Artes - St.Germain - Paris - France
As the evening wound to a close and with several glasses of wine massaging our mindsets, we stepped out of Le Restaurant onto Rue de Beaux Artes and the unfamiliar streets of Paris. Piling into a cab we took the short ride back to Rue de la Harpe, watching the changing colours of the neon night as we sailed through St.Germain and into the Latin Quarter, all three of us sedately quiet, taking in our own impressions and processing all that had gone before.

Entering their apartment on Rue de la Harpe we just sat and chatted for a while, discussing the logistics of what and how I had organised things, and listened to dad as he again repeated his ‘premonition’.  It was a night for making bright and fantastic memories, and how fortunate that the City of Lights should lend us her backdrop to utilise as we pleased for one evening.
 
Apartment view from parents place - 42 Rue de la Harpe - Latin Quarter - Paris - Frane
As I left their apartment and walked the few mins back to mine on Quai de Montebello I felt extremely fortunate. Not many people get a chance to do this let alone think about doing it. This now was something I was going to carry with me always, and whether I’m normal or not, something which shouldn’t be debated (because I’m not), the final result was the three smiles and three separate memories that this idea created, and that’s alright with me.