A Poem From Paris

While at dinner at Le Pré Verre in Paris (one of many solo dining experiences that I had while abroad), I ended up meeting two older Parisian men. One of them was a Senior Executive at a company in France, who also so happens to paint and write love poems on the side, and on my way back to San Francisco, I received an email from him with a poem written specially for me. Here it is: 

K orrigan de l'amour échoué dans la nuit
R ien ne nous disposait à nos aimer pourtant
I l faut vivre l'amour en remède à l'ennui
S avoir saisir sa chance et savourer l'instant
T u n'étais qu'une fleur tout au fond du pré vert
I mprévue  solitaire et sans prince charmant
N ous ne nous aimerons qu'au bout d'un joli vers
E t dans la poésie nous deviendrons amants

(loose translation via Google Translate)

Korrigan of love failed on the night
Nothing we had our love yet
One must live in love remedy for boredom
Seizing his chance and savor the moment
You were a flower at the bottom of the green meadow
Unexpected lonely and without a prince charming
We do we love that after a nice to
And in poetry we become lovers

Hi from Versailles. 

If there’s one thing I could do with less of in Paris, it’s the complete confusion over my ethnicity and nationality. One couple on the Metro gave me a dirty look as they walked away and boarded a much more crowded car, because I’m pretty sure they thought I was a gypsy…a Chinese gypsy (because that’s usually people’s first guess about my ethnicity - everyone else who I’ve told I’m Filipino has had no idea what I’m talking about). 

On the flip side, Northern African men seem to be really into me, in a really aggressive, uncomfortable way.