I feel trite even trying to write about Paris. I mean, what on earth could I possibly say about this fantastic city which hasn't been said at least a million times before and by people far more clever than I am? Yet, here I am sitting in front of my computer, waiting to head out for day two, trying to come up with witty Gillianisms to describe my experience so far, especially since my brain is exhausted from thinking in two languages. It is a little (read A LOT) awesome.
Paris is very much the same as it was 13 years ago, a bustling epoch of culture and feasts for the eyes. In someways, actually in many ways, it is even more of a living breathing museum than Prague is. The Parisians love to feed their aesthetic hunger and the city they have created does just that. There is something interesting, beautiful, awe inspiring, thought provoking everywhere you look here. I imagine it is overwhelming to the first time visitor. I know it was for me. This place oozes history with a dash (ok who am I kidding, a generous heaping) of creativity. I marvel at how the Parisians can look so bored while being surrounded by all of this beauty, especially since they worked so hard at creating it. I guess they are just used to it, they have become desensitized to it all. While on the other hand it is easy for me to understand why so many writers, artists musicians, Evil dictators, etc have flocked to this gem in central France to soak up its powers. But for me, it holds a far deeper importance than just its creative mojo.
For me, it is all about memories. Memories of being comfortable in my own skin for the first time. Memories of one of the first friendships I ever had which looked beyond the superficial exterior and saw a soul sister underneath. A friendship which to this day, despite years apart, I still miss and can't ever truly explain to people. Everywhere I look there is some reminder of when she and I lived here together. Whether it is some bar we stopped in, a photo opt we took, the metro stop she accidentally hit some guy while doing fan kicks after a day at Disneyland. And then there is of course the metro stop to get to our apartment. It snuck up on me yesterday. I almost cried, especially as I jumped off to wander up and down the street I had lived on, all those years ago, and show my mom the places she had been hearing about for years. I meandered around my old neighborhood, marveling at just how untouched it is, with the exception of a few additions. There is the tabak where I walked every morning to buy my lucky strikes, the news paper stand where hot Sebastian worked, the little park in front of St. Amboise where the little old men played chess and fed the birds, all of it standing still, as if waiting for me to come home. It was a little slice of heaven, if not bittersweet. I loved every moment of it.
It is amazing how quickly maneuvering through the mazes of metros and rers has come back to me. I haven't been navigating these streets in 13 years and yet, somehow, I can find my way around here as if it were merely 13 days ago I left. As I listen to the sounds of the city, the cars honking, the scooters roaring past, the buskers.... busking, I feel at home. I remember now why I fell in love with this city. It is the most alive place I have ever been and I like feeling alive.
Paris is very much the same as it was 13 years ago, a bustling epoch of culture and feasts for the eyes. In someways, actually in many ways, it is even more of a living breathing museum than Prague is. The Parisians love to feed their aesthetic hunger and the city they have created does just that. There is something interesting, beautiful, awe inspiring, thought provoking everywhere you look here. I imagine it is overwhelming to the first time visitor. I know it was for me. This place oozes history with a dash (ok who am I kidding, a generous heaping) of creativity. I marvel at how the Parisians can look so bored while being surrounded by all of this beauty, especially since they worked so hard at creating it. I guess they are just used to it, they have become desensitized to it all. While on the other hand it is easy for me to understand why so many writers, artists musicians, Evil dictators, etc have flocked to this gem in central France to soak up its powers. But for me, it holds a far deeper importance than just its creative mojo.
For me, it is all about memories. Memories of being comfortable in my own skin for the first time. Memories of one of the first friendships I ever had which looked beyond the superficial exterior and saw a soul sister underneath. A friendship which to this day, despite years apart, I still miss and can't ever truly explain to people. Everywhere I look there is some reminder of when she and I lived here together. Whether it is some bar we stopped in, a photo opt we took, the metro stop she accidentally hit some guy while doing fan kicks after a day at Disneyland. And then there is of course the metro stop to get to our apartment. It snuck up on me yesterday. I almost cried, especially as I jumped off to wander up and down the street I had lived on, all those years ago, and show my mom the places she had been hearing about for years. I meandered around my old neighborhood, marveling at just how untouched it is, with the exception of a few additions. There is the tabak where I walked every morning to buy my lucky strikes, the news paper stand where hot Sebastian worked, the little park in front of St. Amboise where the little old men played chess and fed the birds, all of it standing still, as if waiting for me to come home. It was a little slice of heaven, if not bittersweet. I loved every moment of it.
It is amazing how quickly maneuvering through the mazes of metros and rers has come back to me. I haven't been navigating these streets in 13 years and yet, somehow, I can find my way around here as if it were merely 13 days ago I left. As I listen to the sounds of the city, the cars honking, the scooters roaring past, the buskers.... busking, I feel at home. I remember now why I fell in love with this city. It is the most alive place I have ever been and I like feeling alive.
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