I haven’t blogged in years, but I haven’t stopped writing. Half-filled notebooks are everywhere in my Cambridge flat. They line my bookshelves, are flattened in the bottom of my purses, are piled up on my bed side table, and accompany me on every work trip. I write everywhere. Planes, cafés, and hotel bars are my favourite places.
In January, I resolved to finish the draft of my Paris book by the end of this year. It’s slow work. I try to write between 4-8 hours every weekend, and some are more successful than others. I feel so many emotions, including embarrassment, reading back over the words I wrote 8 years ago during my Paris summer. Mine, and Chris’ entire world was Paris. Our longing for Paris was so intense. A move to the UK wasn’t even a speck of a thought. We believed the only thing we loved about the UK was Pret a Manger.
My move to the UK (London first, then Cambridge) made our regular trips to Paris less frequent. I still travelled there at least once a year, but Chris and I hadn’t been back in over 6 years since we celebrated my 40th birthday. My last trip was about a month before lockdown in February 2020. Paris faded into the background of our lives.
Late last year, I registered to run the Paris Marathon this month. It was the perfect excuse for us to plan a trip and for me to see Paris from a different perspective. And so, 2 weeks ago I met Chris when he arrived at Heathrow to catch our connecting flight to Paris.
It was reassuring to feel the same stomach-flipping excitement as our flight descended into Charles de Gaulle. I couldn’t wait to feel Paris beneath my feet. To hear and to smell everything that is Paris. From the sirens to the ever-present cigarette smoke, to the boulangeries, and bicycle tires bumping over cobblestone streets.
Our taxi ride from the airport felt like watching our favourite Paris film. We saw everything we loved, and that was once strange and now so familiar. We even drove past the street in the 17th where we stayed on our honeymoon. I squealed and squeaked as we criss-crossed Pars, clutching Chris, and pointing out the Eiffel Tower from every angle.
Our taxi ride felt magical. A return to the city we love.
We stayed at Hôtel de l’Université on the Left Bank in the 7th. I have stayed here several times and it is my preferred hotel in Paris. Quiet, lovely staff, and close to Luxembourg Gardens, Le Bon Marché, Notre Dame, 2 locations of Maison Georges Larnicol, and many of our favourite people-watching cafes. I could also walk to the marathon’s start line on the Champs Élysées.
I never want Paris to underwhelm me or to disappoint me. Paris is where I learned to love and to feel empowered by travel. Over the years, it has made me feel like the best and most beautiful version of myself. But, though painful to admit, I feel differently about Paris. We were planning our whole lives around Paris, and now that is not true.
Our first trips to Paris were often a mix of my relentless overplanning and unrealistic expectations. I felt panicked from the moment we landed that it would be our last time in Paris and tried to do everything and more. I wanted to inhale Paris, to wear Paris, to somehow create a legitimate connection to the city.
While I have mellowed over the years, Chris has taught me to enjoy a slower, unplanned version of Paris that includes later mornings, second glasses of wine, no reservations, and hours of exploring side streets that never featured in any of my guidebooks.
I know Paris’ familiarity is a privilege. I felt it from the moment we arrived at our hotel, and I knew instantly the locations of the closest Monoprix and Carrefour. I am not worried or anxious in Paris. I don’t need a map, and I have seen and done everything important to me at least once. I have the luxury of ‘wasting’ hours in a café because I have seen the Mona Lisa, walked up the hill at Montmartre, seen the Seine from a Bateau Mouche, and even queued for the highly rated falafel in the Marais. Chris and I have kissed on every beautiful bridge.
Excluding the marathon, our 3 days were relaxing and spent wasting happy hours in our favourite city. We returned to many of our favourite spots, and I spent too much money on Haribo, tiny French notebooks from BHV’s stationery section, and reusable Monoprix shopping bags. Much wine and pain aux chocolats were consumed. We drank coffee like water, and little water. And once again, I can confirm Paris in the springtime is a myth. We were constantly cold. Being back in Paris with Chris filled my heart.
There is a yellowing, frayed piece of paper stuck to our fridge door in Victoria. It dates from 2013 and it’s titled, “We WILL move to Paris in 5 years” and has a timeline with a list of actionable goals now many years out of date. Neither of us will take it down.
The truth is we have moved on from our Paris dream. I built an exciting life in the UK with Chris’ support, and I proudly called myself a Londoner before moving to Cambridge at the end of 2021. I have friends, opportunities, and I can see our forever future here. The UK feels like home.
It is bittersweet writing these words.
Paris will always hold our hearts and our recent time there reminded us of everything we love. We have thousands of beautiful memories in Paris. I feel grateful that I experienced the city for years without mobile phones and that I was unable to walk, unsecured, beneath the Eiffel Tower. I know we will continue to go back and continue to fall in love with the city.
A part of us will always be dreaming of Paris.
No comments:
Post a Comment