On my first Tumblr (which possesses the same name as this blog) post, I explained the origin of the name choice. Arrondissement roughly translates to the word "district" in the French language. It is mostly applied in larger cities in France; most popular of all being Paris. When you see a map of Paris, the city is commonly outlined this way. This could be very helpful in determining where you want to stay, depending on which sights you want to see. The touristy spots are towards the center of the city, sitting on the verge of the Seine. Personally, I prefer the area surrounding Notre Dame all the way to the old bohemian area where my dad hung out as a young man when he set out on a 3-month pilgrimage, trekking every (what is now modern; seems like an unfitting word though) place mentioned in the Bible. I digress. That deserves a different post.
Enjoying couscous and lamb Moroccan-style in my dad's old neighborhood. Of course, photo taken after food consumed.
Returning to the original purpose of this entry, you may think why the 14th Arrondissement? You may also ask if I have been there at all, hence the inspiration? I did stay there for two nights before heading up north to Mont Blanc. There wasn't anything special about this particular part of the city. Perhaps me feeling that it didn't exclusively belonged to Paris struck me the most. It was such a familiar place. Walking there reminded me of walking in downtown Cebu city circa 1990. There's an element to it that can be found in every city that I have been to. Until now, I still can't pinpoint what it is. However, the real inspiration is from the following video. It is of the short film 14th Arrondissement. No introduction could really do justice of how beautiful and meaningful this film is to me. It encompasses all the feelings I have of growing up, of trying to compromise the life that was ideal to me and what reality has presented to me instead (or I made reality present to me?). Yet, Carol has taught me one thing: acceptance.
I used to keep notebooks under my bed. At the end of every year, I would review all of them. Even boxes of old letters and drafts that popped in my head (but were too ambitious to even begin transcribing) were let out to get some fresh air; hoping that they would meet disclosure of some sort. Somehow, it was easier back then. Inspiration came from every minute of not speaking, of observing, and of wishing that in every green light, there was someone reckless and ready to end your life. Even though the world has given me more reasons to be happy, I don't think I know myself quite as I used to. It is as if my identity has been put on pause for another one to play. It's alright, I suppose. I just want to be that Rae again.
