Vagabond Artist

So what I didn't say about the gorgeuos sunday that we had in the country is that I got sunstroke. Funny , I never got sunstroke in Italy in the 21 years I was there. Although, I don't ever remember sitting in the sun all day and stuffing myself, but last sunday I didn't even eat that much.

After shopping at the market and me cooking and my boyfriend cooking we ate the lamb and the peppers and the tomatoes all in the sunshine. It was so nice, this lovely light with long shadows. We all undressed a little bit, some took their shoes off some their pants; me, my scarf and I changed from jeans to a skirt.

I definitely underestimated the strenght of the sun here in April, or maybe my intolerance to it because after lunch I felt weak as we were sitting down around the table taking turns at ping pong with the kids. I grabbed my beau's leg and said I had to go lay down on the couch. He didn't pay attention to me, he was ingrossed in his conversation with childhood friend until I insisted and got up and said I had to lie down but was not able to go by myself. i was on my feet but my mind was slipping fast and it must have been apaharent because he was holding me until I crashed to the floor, slowly, as he was holding me. The floor was cold, too cold and I said so. I felt sick and then there was everyone fluttering around at that point.

They pulled me up, somebody did, to take me to the couch in the nice living room. That was the last I remember until minutes later when I was looking at someones feet and the floor in the nice bathroom covered with red smelly stuff. I had no idea where I was or what I was looking at or who that cute guy was. It was awful. That is when I realized I had lost my lunch at my hosts house and they were so nice about it. I didn't even have the strength to reach over with one hand and help clean up the mess. If I knew I was going to puke I would have asked to lay in the garden in the peaceful shade, but it was really violent, I probably would have choked myself. I had food in my nose for hours, pretty gross huh? It seemed like a lifetime that I blacked out, but was only minutes.; luckily I don't remember puking. I even had a vision that I cannot remember, something really phsychedelic, but I cannot remember.

I think of Riana's travel notes on slowtrav about picking a flower and how she didn't include this embarassing scenario. Why would she? Who plans to puke, especially at a friends house, let alone Trocadero. But that is probably the best place to do it, a friends house. They still love you no matter how mortified you are.

So as I came to my senses they gave me my jeans that I had as a change, and a fresh t-shirt and closed the door of the newly cleansed bathroom and let me fend for myself. The Italians would have called the ambulance. It took all of my stregth to to pull my jeans on as I lay on the floor and the t-shirt was so hard to get my arms into. After resting flat on my back for a few minutes from that effort I managed to open the door and crawl slowly on all fours to the coveted living room, stand up and wobbily walk three steps to crash on a leather arm chair. My head was spinning. I sat for awhile then turned on my side listening to the laughter and chatter outside and the blaring television in French. There was this beautiful soft light that came in and made nice shadows on the mustard yellow leather couches and the parquet. It was a timeless setting. I was really in choc.

After awhile I managed to move to a couch and lay there for a very long time receiving some visits from beau and hosts. I could harldly speak. Finally I got up and made my way outside to join back into the group and then we left and went home to the center of Paris. When they dropped us off at the RER station they kept saying please come back when you feel like it. i couldn't help myself but to say "Yes, when i feel like puking?" We all laughed but I felt like crying. Why am I even blogging about it?

Monday I was still completely lost and stayed in all day except for the attempt of a promenade towards rue Moufftard then yesterday took the metro to Ivry to work. Amazingly I finished a painting. Today I feel great and even took my bicycle to Ivry.

Sunstroke, who imagined that it would happen to me in Paris. I hope that it never happens to you!