Last Farwell - Hungary

The farwell party took place at a club called Studio 74 not far from Arkad, so we decided to walk. It was a dance studio at the second floor of an old building, at the top of a narrow staircase. We gathered along the walls staring at each other. Everyone was there and everyone had brought food.
   Our dance teacher arrived to teach us Hungarian dances and we all stood, ran and danced in a huge circle. Then, after a lot of sweating, we thought our friends the Norwegian “slå på ring/hit the ring” and had a good laugh.

   After all of this, the mood kind of died. We knew it was our last minutes. For many of us, it was probably the last time we ever got to see each other. Two of the girls left and it was on. We all hugged each other, and lost count of how many had left and who. I hugged a Hungarian guy, but met him again at the bottom of the stairs with the girls. “One more!” we all screamed and hugged again.    
    Before leaving the building John pulled me to the side saying “I have to give you something.” So we went outside to the top of the staircase and he took of his bracelet. “I want you to have this.” And he put it on my arm. “A reminder that I will seriously come looking for you to get it back.” I was touched. So was the others.
    We stood outside hugging and smoking when Sophie's father came to pick us up. I didn’t cry. I know John nearly did. But that night I was thinking of leaving and I got rather sad. I didn’t want to go, I didn’t want to leave this beautiful summer country and all their weird tasting food. Nor the pancakes.

(Derp picture, we only filmed that night...)

-Mari Clémentine

If you're tired of Paris, you're tired of life!

“To say that one is tired of Paris, is in fact to say that one is tired of life!"  – Savage Grace. It was actually originally said about London, I think, but who cares when it’s true! I know I sound like a dumb American richbitch, but I think I have fallen in love with the city, as so many others and saying goodbye to her for a year won’t be easy, but at least I’m going for winter break. So TOMORROW Paris will be mine again.

    And now a lot of people might ask: What do you do there? You must have seen everything, sweet Jeez it’s the 8^th time! Well, firstly, I haven’t seen everything, I’ve never been on top of the Eiffel Tower, I’ve never been to Versailles or Musee Carnavalet. So what do I do?
    I live.

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    Every day in Paris is like the day after you’ve been magically cured for pneumonia, finally being able to breathe again. I often go out walking, writing in parks or taking photos. When I get really tired I go to Starbucks or other cafes to sit down for hot chocolate. Sometimes I eat crepes de nutella for lunch. I visit museums, churches, bridges and statues. This year I’ve promised myself to visit Pere Lachaise Cemetery which I’m really looking forward to.

     You see, my dear readers and friends, Paris is a dance. Sometimes slow, sometimes fast, but it’s always moving on. Touching, or not touching. Fancy old-fashioned or dirty and in-time. It will be whatever you want it to be and who can resist that?

-Mari Clémentine