Sunny days and change
Hey guys!!!!!!
It’s been a minute and I’ve had the urge to blog for a while now so here I am. The bud of spring has begun to blossom and the sun has saved me from the grim skies of Paris. As March arrived and I woke to the bright blues of the morning I could feel the heavy drapes of winter finally drop. Thank God.
There are so many things I have on my mind to write about I don’t even know where to start but here it goes:
In March I found my favorite bar. It’s a place that feels so intimate because of its warm lighting and lit candles yet is always filled with a bustling air of excitement. Usually, the front of the place is jam-packed with people engrossed in conversation at the bar or seated at petit tables so that you must awkwardly shove through as if you were exiting a stuffed metro, but when you get to the back, the tables stretch longer and light sconces draped in coral fabric hover above the leather booths. This is usually where I take refuge at Chez Jeannette. My favorite thing about this place is that I always end up having a riveting conversation with someone new whether that be an amiable girl in the bathroom line or a group of friends who are all publishers of a fashion magazine.
The last time I was there, my friends and I had come from an early birthday celebration. Shortly after arriving, we had acquired our drinks and, like clockwork, people magically appeared next to us and struck up conversation. We spoke to the table next to ours but eventually, I ended up telling the girl next to me about the fact that I was having an early birthday dinner. She was 29, 11 years older than me at that time. Every year before her birthday, she asked herself what she would bring into the next year of her life, what she would leave behind, and what she was looking forward to the most once she reached a new age. She asked me the same thing to which I replied: “Let me think about that for a minute”.
It wasn’t until a week later, one day before my nineteenth birthday, that I pondered those questions again. At this point, I had left Paris for my spring break. I was basking in the turf of my aunt’s balcony in LA where I relished in the comfort of returning to a land of large iced coffees and five-lane highways. I had thought up two responses which I promptly wrote in my notebook but I don’t think I will share those here.
On April first I turned nineteen. And the thing is, I feel nineteen years old. I remember the day I turned eighteen the number hadn’t sunk into my mind and I didn’t resonate with the age—mostly because it seemed daunting. The age of eighteen was a state of mind I had come to accept with a bitter attitude and reluctance to adulthood. But this year things were different: I am nineteen and I feel nineteen.
That whole week I spent in LA with my family and one of my closest friends. This refresher from the life I live abroad was a necessary reset that inadvertently gave me more perspective on Paris.
I came back to Paris three days ago. Now, the sun sets at 8:30 PM and I feel so grateful to be here. That’s the thing about travel I love, my sense of appreciation for the place I live in is always heightened for the first few days I’m back. The novelty of the city has restored itself and seems more polished than ever.
Today, I had some spare time in between classes. After getting a few hours of work done at a café, I crossed the street to the supermarket and bought a pack of prosciutto and green grapes. Then, I walked over to the Canal Saint Martin and sat where the sunlight crept past the fresh foliage. It wasn’t too crowded yet because it was only a Thursday afternoon. I snacked on my grapes and prosciutto while I picked up the book I’m currently reading, M Train by Patti Smith. I remember writing about Just Kids at some point in this blog, maybe a year or two ago. I have to say, I prefer M Train which is pretty wild because I adore Just Kids. Though I also just love Patti Smith’s writing. I find myself constantly underlining pages of my book, astonished at the way she’s been able to articulate thoughts I often have in such an eloquent manner.
Anyway, I had this déjà vu “we are so back” moment that usually only occurs when I return to New York after a trip. It felt strange to associate another place with the comfort of home as if I was betraying my true roots. But I can love Paris while New York lives in my heart. And I’ll remember eighteen fondly but not let nostalgia cloud my eyes from the lovely reality of a new year to live!
