I’ve been thinking a lot about Paris lately.
In high school I read about all the best writers spending time there, writing, finding their voice. That my favorite book was written by a Frenchman only added to my fascination. I was convinced all the women looked like Isabelle Adjani.
At nineteen, wandering through this life aimlessly, I considered moving to France to work at Disney Paris. I joined the Air Force instead.
Less paperwork. Paris would have to wait.
I finally made it to Paris with The Gorgeous Blonde in 2019.
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| TGB is the best travel partner |
We did the things one does in Paris. The Louvre. The Eiffel Tower. A ride on the River Seine past Notre Dame.
We kissed under the Bridge of Sighs.
Mostly though, we did a lot of nothing. We walked along canals, ate a lot of cheese and baguettes. She wrote while drinking wine and smoking on a Parisian balcony. I smoked and watched her write and drink wine.
We said bonjour to everyone we met and got bemused laughs as we stumbled through our bad French.
I would like to point something out here. Parisians get a bad rap as rude, but that was not our experience. Not remotely. They may be blunt, but as a blunt person, I found it refreshing. No false niceties, just direct communique and a lack of tolerance for bullshit. Even then, I found Parisians to be passionate, and helpful, and so fucking alive in this very moment.
In fact, before we ever arrived in Paris we met a couple on our cruise who insisted that we contact them once we arrive and they would help us with our journey. Rude? No, most definitely not.
More than once I found myself thinking about nineteen year old me, wondering if he regrets not getting here sooner.
But he wouldn’t have been in Paris with her. And she makes Paris perfect.
We’ll get back to that glorious city one day soon. Maybe even stay a bit longer.
For now I’ll resign myself to thinking back to that time and look forward to the next time.
Bonsoir.
