Footprints on my Heart

Chapter 2 -- Plié

Plié

to bend (standing leg or legs) - either demi (half) or grand (big), A ballet movement in which the knees are bent while the back is held straight.

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It was a grey, steady, depressing rain that seemed to wash all the colours from the city, reminding you just how much of the city was built of stone, solid gray and unyielding. Paris had survived the rule of Louis XIV, had watched her citizens rebel in the French Revolution. The city of love had been witness to the German tanks on the Champs Elysées, the very same streets that Napoleon had marched on. But today Paris was shrouded in rain, bearing witness to beginnings and endings

The cafes and bistros, normally boisterous cauldrons of frenetic energy, today were deflated and almost tranquil. I paused in front of the dance studio, a slightly wistful look on my face. Two female mannequins in leotards, tutus and tights stood on the toes of one foot with the other leg extended behind them at an angle near perpendicular to their arched torsos in the display window.

One was smaller and shaped like a prepubescent little girl, the other taller and shaped like an older teenager. As I regarded the mannequins, a woman and her little girl walked - the girl actually skipped - into the door, the child dressed just like the mannequin in the window even if in brighter colors.

It was cute. I used to love ballet as much as the little girl has. It used to be fun -- it has been all my life now but I couldn't pin point if I even started living and breathing it in

What is life all about?

The answer to this will be different for every person, naturally. And I think I finally defined mine.

Before, I used to think that life is about success: working hard to accomplish goals, establishing your career, seeing your dreams come true.

But then when I turned 23, I realized It is not about having big ambitions, a colossal vision, and be never-ending goals alone. It is about creating aspirations for yourself, and then watching yourself as you see it all come true. That is what life is about - making YOURSELF happy through the things that you see YOURSELF do.

Five years ago I moved to Paris. It was a forced move, a difficult one, one that made me sadder than any 18-year old should ever have to be. I left everything behind and moved to a country whose language I couldn't even find the right intonation to. Not the point.

I moved to Paris in May and lived in 29, Boulevard St Germain75005 Paris, where my mother had lived for a couple of years prior to teaching at Ballet Manila.

Occasionally, before the dreadful school year started in L'Academe Royale de Danse, My mother would take me out to trips to Paris and show me around. France was one of a kind, rough around the edges, but beautiful; She thought I needed to see it.

Paris wasn't what I expected. Pictures, photographs, lessons of history forced me to romanticize the city. I expected grandeur everywhere. I expected to see everything beautiful, luxurious, flawless. But when I arrived I realized that it was just another big city.

It was a living, breathing, functioning city. It wasn't preserved for tourists, and it certainly wasn't waiting to impress me upon my arrival.

A few unpleasant experiences in my first week made me very homesick; there were several times that I strongly considered changing my flight and cutting my trip short. But with a pinch of rationality I stopped the panic and hoped for the better.