Memories from Paris, June 29th – July 1st:
I left Penmarch early in the morning to get to Paris in the early afternoon. The train ride was long and I was exhausted from hardly sleeping the night before. As sad as I was to leave the Manoir du Ster, I was also curious and excited to finally be in Paris and explore the city that I had wanted to visit for such a long time. As the train rolled into the station, I looked up what direction I had to walk in to get to the Tour Eiffel. As I started my walk from the train station, I was amazed by the architecture of the houses that lined the streets, by the feeling of this city, and finally by seeing the Tour Eiffel, far off in the distance.
Rather than taking lots of pictures, I concentrated on walking. I had the map that I picked up on the airport, so that I did not even have to take out my phone to look at the directions. I did get lost a few times, but there is no better way to explore a city than to get lost in the side streets. Eventually I reached the Tour Eiffel, tired and with aching feet. I had underestimated the strain of walking with a heavy backpack, but being able to sit down in the park was worth the effort. I stayed and rested for a little bit, before heading to the metro.
I was so tired.
After walking through so many little streets, finding a little bookstore and buying a little book by Albert Camus, I settled down in a bar, drank a glass of wine, and wrote down a few summarizing words of the day…
Feelings right now:
- Tired
- Lost
- Grateful for the beautiful moments
- Paris is too big to feel like home
- My head hurts
I forgot about that…I had such a bad headache from walking around all day and not drinking enough water, and probably stress and too little sleep too.
Goals for tomorrow:
1. Remember Amelie
a. Self are is necessary
b. Recognizing emotions is, too
2. Take good pictures
a. Find the angles and color contrasts
3. Find 5 stones to skip
4. Don’t be afraid
a. To get lost
b. To feel lonely
Goals for Paris:
1. What does it mean to be OK with my own company?
2. Relearn to look at life with curiosity
3. Be the observer; it is ok to be passive, too
4. Smile. Smiling never hurts and I’ve been frowning a lot the past few days, I think.
These were my thoughts for the next few days in Paris. I think it helped me to create an emotional roadmap. I was feeling very lonely and sad that evening, sitting at the bar by my self. It was such a stark contrast to come from nature surrounded by loving individuals, and all of a sudden be in such a big city surrounded by thousands of strangers. I felt invisible and small that night, like I didn’t really matter, and it was a strange feeling because I so much wanted to soak up and feel the beauty of Paris.
On a side note, the hostel that I stayed in was terrible. I stayed in a three-bed took for two nights and we only had one key. It was frustrating because it meant very little independence, especially later in the evening.
I slept like a baby that night. It was good that I went to bed around 10, because I woke up around 8 the next day and felt refreshed. The first thing I did after taking a quick shower was to look at the (included) breakfast at the hostel: coffee and pastry from vending machines. Very questionable and a lot of sugar. What really made breakfast better was the company of an elderly man from Chile who, after talking for a few minutes, gave me his email address and said I was always welcome to come visit him in Chile if I was ever there without a place to stay. This incredibly kind-hearted man and coincidental interaction put me into a very good mood. When I went back to my room, my one roommate was just packing her things. We started talking (she was from Melbourne, Australia), and she told me that she had been robbed the day before. Even though she had lost her passport, credit card, and money, she was not upset because she had not been hurt and told me that with 60 (ish) years old, all that really mattered was to be in good physical shape and healthy, that she had grown up in Singapore and never seen nature until she married a man from Australia, and now spent her time traveling as long as possible. I admire her for her strength and positivity. I am not sure I could have been as bright and loving, as caring and understanding of the circumstantial situation she had found herself in. All she really hoped for was to get her emergency passport as soon as possible to continue traveling. She told me much about finding your identity – or rather, not finding it because it’s not about the end goal but about the path that we find ourselves on and about trying to improve every aspect of yourself while figuring out how to stay true to yourself.
After talking for quite a while, I packed up my things and started walking. My plan for the day was to make my way to Montmartre, the quartier that Amelie takes place in (my all-time favorite movie that is seen as very stereotypical in France) with my paper map. As I walked and walked, I crossed the Place du Bastille, passed (close by) the house of Victor Hugo, I crossed the Place de la Republique. I walked alongside a courtyard with beautiful, old buildings and passages that reminded me of the plazas in Spain, and I found a little jewelry shop where I bought a necklace and talked to the owner for about half an hour. She gave me some ideas and tips where to go and was such a friendly person that I immediately felt welcomed and much more at peace in this city that I had thought of as “too big to feel like home” just the night before. I was also so proud of myself for maintaining a conversation in French for such an extended period of time, when just weeks before I had not been able to say where I had to go. I felt so much positive energy walking through the beautiful streets of Paris.
I had a rather weird encounter in another jewelry shop where I was looking for a pendant: I did not see a sign at the door that the jewelry was only sold by the 100s, so that the sale’s woman rejected my intention to buy just one piece in a rather unfriendly tone.
I kept walking and marveling at the buildings and architectures. I made a point to avoid busy streets, and found another book store with used books, where I bought an old copy of Le petit prince.
Even though the weather was quite unstable and it rained for a few minutes every now and then, the sun was shining as I started walking uphill with a view of the stunning Sacre Coeur. I felt like I was walking on clouds, like I could skip through the streets with a smile on my face for the last few kilometers up to the basilica. I felt so happy to finally see this part of Paris!
As I entered the Cimetiere de Montmartre, a guy started calling after me. At first I payed no attention to him, but he insisted and started walking next to me, talking to me in English. Only because I was in such a good mood did I respond to him, and he accompanied me for a little bit. After a while I told him I wanted to keep walking by my self.
At first I thought that I had missed out on taking in the quartier because I felt limited by his company, but I ended up staying for four hours. I fell in love with this part of Paris, so much more than with the center. Of course, it was also very touristy, but the feeling was so different, so much more cozy. Some streets were lined by cobble stone, the houses leaned lazily against the incline of the hill, and the steps that steeply climbed up narrow streets every once in a while.
Of course I had to stop at the famous Cafe des deux Moulins, where 'Amelie' takes place. I drank a coffee and stereotypically ate a creme brûlée like Amelie does in the movie. It was such an honor to sit in the little cafe, even though it was after all very different tan in the movie. It felt unreal never the less, and it was a dream come true for me. I stayed for quite a while, collecting my thoughts once more and jotting down a few words to make a note of the impressions and most of all the interactions of the day so far. It was quite surprising because I realized that I had started to think in French, even if just with my very limited vocabulary. I realized that I was really making progress. I wrote my notes in French, and even though I am sure that if I ever manage to master the language I will look back and laugh at what I wrote, I am still so proud that I was able to put together words to form sentences and put together sentences to form paragraphs and jot down my impressions.
After leaving the cafe, I made my way up to the top of the hill, and once again felt overwhelmed by the beauty of the Sacre Coeur, as its beautiful dome emerged in the sky above the houses. It was another moment that is so hard to put into words.
There were many tourists waiting in line for the tour of the church, and as much as I loved the view of Paris from the top of this hill, I made my way back down into the winding streets o Montmartre. I got lost, but again trusted that the city would take me where I had to be. As I took a picture of the streets, an old man came up to me and asked it I was a photographer. I told him how much I love photography, and he asked me where I was from. After a few minutes of friendly small talk, he asked if I had plans for the night. I told him no, and he asked if I was visiting the city by my self. When I said yes, he informed me that there was a cabaret club just next door that he was part of, and that he would invite me. He even showed me what metro I had to take to get back to my hostel. He was very kind. I was going to go, but my plans changed.
After walking around the quartier just a little bit longer, I went back to the Sacre Coeur because I had not yet skipped down the winding steps. I watched, fascinated, as storm clouds formed in the distance over the city, before I ran down the wide steps. It was such a feeling of liberty, almost like my feet were not even touching the ground, almost like I was still just skipping on clouds, my skirt flying around me with the movement of my legs and the wind…It was beautiful. I stopped on the place by the little carousel. I had always imagined it to be much bigger… I sat down on the steps because right by the carousel was a public piano that a young man was playing. It was an atmosphere of peace and tranquility. I looked again up at the Sacre Coeur, listening to the jazz tunes that the young man was playing. I took a few pictures and a video to capture the moment, and then packed up my things to keep walking, this time with the goal of the Gare de l’Este. As I walked away from the piano, some guys came up to me and tried to sell me a bracelet. One of them grabbed my rest and I got very uncomfortable, aware of my position – alone surrounded by a group of guys with my camera over my shoulder. I did not feel right for this stranger to grab my wrist. He did not let go even after I asked him to. I got scared. He noticed. I struggled to free my hand and walked away very quickly. I heard footsteps behind me and thought that the man was following me, I turned around, my discomfort probably written onto my face. It was not the man who had been holding on to my wrist. It was the piano player who called out to me in Spanish. Out of reflex I had talked to the other guy in Spanish. I was surprised. The piano player seemed much more friendly and I was relieved that it was not the other guy following me.
I talked to the piano player for quite a while, walking around the place at the bottom of the Sacre Coeur. I told him that I wanted to walk to the Gare, and he told me he would show me where I had to go. He ended up walking the whole way with me. It turned out that his English was perfect and we had really nice and interesting conversations, about Parisians and how they are very sad people even though they might not want to admit it, or always show it, but that in the end they carry much sadness around with them deep down. We agreed that, in the end, the busyness of the city and the lack of meaningful human interactions enhances this sadness.
We walked to the Gare de l’Este (one of the train stations) and I went inside for just a second to take a picture of the clock. I was really tired by that point – I had been walking for almost 9 hours straight. I still wanted to see the canals that snake thought the streets near the Gare, but had reached my capacity of taking in things around me. The piano player asked if he could accompany me some more, and I said that would be nice. It was a nice change to walk without looking at a map and not get lost. Especially since I had lost my physical map. (I was looking forward to have a souvenir *which means memory in French* with all the places I went to marked in red and purple marker).
We ended up walking quite far along the canal, which I had imagined to be much prettier. Maybe I will go back and look for a nicer corner of the canal. Either way I skipped my stone, which was one of my goals. I didn’t find five stones, but at least one to skip. We the sat on another place for about another hour or two, by which time I had missed my rendezvous with my 80ish year old friend from the cabaret show. It wasn’t too tragic though that I missed it, especially because I was not 100% sure if the invitation had been serious and because I was far away.
That night I got back to the hostel around midnight because I could not not walk by the Seine at night. I was not at the prettiest of bridges, but it was still a detour that was worth it. I fell into my bed that night, again dead tired but also so grateful for all the beautiful places that I had seen and the amazing people that I had met.
The next morning I got up, went out to drink a cup of coffee (for 6 Euro!!! I had ordered a glass of wine for less the night before). I also bought the best olive baguette that I have eaten in my life. It was so good! A I walked back to the hostel, I also came across a market and bought some fruit and an avocado. I couldn’t resist. It started raining pretty badly, which made my walk less nice. I packed up my things at the hostel and took a metro back to Montmartre. I just really loved it there, and I had a few hours to kill. It was pouring when I stepped out of the Metro. Good thing I had a rain cover for my backpack. Even though the weather was really terrible and my backpack was heavy and my feet hurt so badly, I kept walking through the streets, climbing up the steep steps bravely, trying to soak up every last detail. I really wanted to eat a crepe before I left Paris, so I started looking for a Creperie. I remembered that the day before, when I was walking up Amelie’s road, I had seen a little Crepe stand. I found it and it was such an amazing feeling to walk in the cold rain with a warm banana Nutella crepe in my hand. It was such a moment of happiness.
Had I not had my backpack, I would have sat down in a café and avoided the rain, but I felt that it would be a nuisance to enter a café with my hiking backpack, completely soaked. I ended up finding a little park where I could hide under the trees until I had to leave to go to the train station and catch my train to Bruxelles. I got a message from the piano player – he wanted to say goodbye at the train station. It was sad to leave Montmartre.
I waited from the piano player by a grand piano at the train station – how amazing is it that there were just public pianos everywhere throughout the city????? – where I met another man who was taking his 2 year old son to Bruxelles. He was also very kind, and even said he would show me the way around Bruxelles. I played one or two songs, at first with shyness, while waiting for the piano player. I almost missed him because I had to board the train, but last minute he did show up. It was nice of him to say goodbye to me!
I ended up finding a seat next to the father and son, and we coincidentally realized that I was going to stay just a street away from him.
