Things I Have, Still, To Write About

I am a bit behind I think. I still haven't written all I want about Paris, and how wonderful it was to spend an evening with my pen pal, Julien, seated on the edge of the Trocadero, while the Eiffel Tower strutted its stuff, glittering its jewel lights for 15 minutes, on the top of every hour. Julien, Sebastien and I sat on the very edge of the battalion, daring the wind to knock one of us off (ok, so we weren't THAT close to the edge) as we drank wine from plastic cups and compared American and French politics. I haven't written about that. I will.
I also still haven't written about how wonderful it was to be in Berlin, with Sebastien's best friend in the world, Nick. To see them together is wonderful. They really love one another. I love watching them together, riffing off one another, singing "Remain in Light" by the Talking Heads and getting totally, completely, and almost annoyingly silly in the kitchen as they make dinner. Being with Nick made me feel on one hand warm, and like home, because he is such a great friend to Sebastien, but on the other hand it made me miss my own friends that much more. We walked around his neighborhood, and - you know how every once in a great while you walk into a store, or past a house, or go to a city, and everything there just seems as though it has always belonged to you and that simultaneously you also subconsciously designed it? well - and I risk sounding quite materialistic now - I found that *something* in Berlin. The city felt wonderful. The people were friendly, but not TOO friendly either. And, well, here it REALLY is: as we walked around Nick's neighborhood, we went into a courtyard to explore, and firstly, there was a lovely cafe that smelled delicious, and I think a record store, and then I saw there was a woolen hat shop. Now, you could blame it on the rain and the cold of Berlin in October, but something happened when I entered that shop. I am honestly glad that Sebastien and Nick stayed outside, or else the same thing might have happened to them. As I stepped across the threshold of the store, my hand uncontrollably shot out from my side, grabbed a hat, and placed it perfectly upon my head. I really had no choice in the matter. This hat was the most amazing and beautiful thing I have seen in a very very long time. It was at the same time very elegant, and quite full of personality. It had the lines and style of a 1920's ladies hat, perfectly covering most of my (then) recently chopped hair, leaving only the sides by the ears to peek out from underneath. As soon as I put it on, I felt quite like someone who could stop buggy traffic in town with a nod, and Seb and Nick both got very quiet, and confirmed this thought. When I took the hat off, and looked at its price tag, I realized that a hand-felted beaver-fleece hat was, of course, much much more expensive than I could ever afford, and that this spell had to be broken quickly, or I risked myself (and my bank account) being broken. I almost threw the hat back onto the rack (it was all I could have done to not just walk out of the store with it on), and when the saleswoman told me that I should own that hat, and that it should belong to me, because it was so perfect, she didn't think I would notice the evil glint in her eye, but believe me; I did see it. If the hat was a spell, then that woman was a sorcerous.