eyes.
As well as being the halfway point of my stay here in Paris, October was a month for visitors. With each week, I saw little slices of home come and go, with normal routine moments in between when I would go to class and misplace my cellphone and avoid my homework by going to museums just because they are there. The moments of home, the visitors from the states, bringing me news and peanut butter and the occasional good American novel, made me remember what I don’t have here from home but also made me see the city all over again.
In the first week I saw Mom and Nora, who flew in for a few days and let me drag them around to my parts of Paris so they could see that I’m doing just fine and finding the best deals in the cutest areas and enjoying the Parisian lifestyle just fine. Because it was not Mom and Nora’s first trip to Paris, we really got to relax. We could sit and enjoy ourselves over lunch, we could have dinner with my host family without worry of missing something else outside, we could relax together and I could finally have what I’d be wanting most: a bit of my real American family in Paris. Nora and I went out to a bar together for the first time and drank overpriced drinks from Harry’s Bar, just so that when we’re old and famous – you know, should either of those things ever happen (which, by the way, is unlikely) – we can say we were there. Mom and Nora’s visit was more about the family than the city, at least to me.
But with Alana here, the city was bright and new and different and exciting. And she wanted to see all the museums and all the paintings and she could give me all the history and point out exactly why that painting mattered when. And through her eyes, I saw the city as its own sort of masterpiece – with a Metro map and a weekly pass in hand, I would send her out with strict instructions on how to say the Metro stop she wanted to go to and would find her coming home later, many hours later, to tell me what she had seen.
“I just feel…it’s like…it’s like meeting celebrities, you know?” She tells me, after a day spent at the Louvre. And I never thought of it that way, but it makes sense. In Alana’s eyes, these paintings pretty much are the greatest celebrities out there.
And with Jeff and his father here this week, every moment counted for them. This city was even brighter and even more new for Jeff, even though I don’t think he’d ever use the word bright considering the weather was mostly gray and rainy and dark. Jeff and his dad had so much energy for this city, tackling every museum and every monument in their four days here such that I began to see the city a bit like them, too. Through their eyes, the city was something to take on, something to learn as fast as possible, something that had hidden possibilities down small side streets but great possibilities in the bigger spots, too.
Sitting in the courtyard of my school, staring at the beautiful white building with its still sprawling rose garden despite the fact that it’s now the end of October and the cat that wanders through looking irritated with our presence, Jeff turns to me.
“You…you should probably never leave.”
I’m pretty sure he’s telling me this because we tend to openly display affections of hating each other at any given moment, and by me staying in Paris, it’s clear that he’ll never have to see me again in the States.
But what he’s actually saying is that this place is amazing. That each day that I decide to look at this city in my routine-eyes, I miss the ways in which new eyes are Wowed by this city. Capital W. Wowed.
It’s true. While I’m here, I tend to get lost a little less, stay focused on my course work a little more, begin to see the Eiffel Tower as, oh yeah, you know, just the Eiffel Tower, because I see it every day to school and it’s just a part of the scenery now.
But it shouldn’t be that way. Paris should still wow me. Paris should still open my eyes every so often. And this week it did.
Two moments:
A man on the Metro takes out his teeth, holding them in his hand, and smiling, listening to the accordion duet on the other side of the train.
A man walking down the street, in the 16th arrondissment, walking six donkeys tied together, helping them cross the street at a green light and continuing on their merry way.
These moments didn’t wow me as much as make me feel weird about the city that I’m living in, make me wonder why it is I have fallen in love with this place. But this moment really did wow me.
My first time in the Shakespeare and Company bookstore, I actually stopped in my tracks and Wowed aloud. Listening to the woman behind the counter speak perfect British English, describing the plans to make reservations to have Jeannette Winterson speak at the store, with thousands and thousands of books – American! English! – stacked behind, just begging to be read, just begging to be opened, Wowed me. It reminded me of why I write, why I read, and why new places still need to be discovered while I’m here. I had needed a good Wow, and this was it, making my eyes see the city new again, thanks to some visitors from the States and piles and piles of books just waiting to be read, to be written all over again.
In the first week I saw Mom and Nora, who flew in for a few days and let me drag them around to my parts of Paris so they could see that I’m doing just fine and finding the best deals in the cutest areas and enjoying the Parisian lifestyle just fine. Because it was not Mom and Nora’s first trip to Paris, we really got to relax. We could sit and enjoy ourselves over lunch, we could have dinner with my host family without worry of missing something else outside, we could relax together and I could finally have what I’d be wanting most: a bit of my real American family in Paris. Nora and I went out to a bar together for the first time and drank overpriced drinks from Harry’s Bar, just so that when we’re old and famous – you know, should either of those things ever happen (which, by the way, is unlikely) – we can say we were there. Mom and Nora’s visit was more about the family than the city, at least to me.
But with Alana here, the city was bright and new and different and exciting. And she wanted to see all the museums and all the paintings and she could give me all the history and point out exactly why that painting mattered when. And through her eyes, I saw the city as its own sort of masterpiece – with a Metro map and a weekly pass in hand, I would send her out with strict instructions on how to say the Metro stop she wanted to go to and would find her coming home later, many hours later, to tell me what she had seen.
“I just feel…it’s like…it’s like meeting celebrities, you know?” She tells me, after a day spent at the Louvre. And I never thought of it that way, but it makes sense. In Alana’s eyes, these paintings pretty much are the greatest celebrities out there.
And with Jeff and his father here this week, every moment counted for them. This city was even brighter and even more new for Jeff, even though I don’t think he’d ever use the word bright considering the weather was mostly gray and rainy and dark. Jeff and his dad had so much energy for this city, tackling every museum and every monument in their four days here such that I began to see the city a bit like them, too. Through their eyes, the city was something to take on, something to learn as fast as possible, something that had hidden possibilities down small side streets but great possibilities in the bigger spots, too.
Sitting in the courtyard of my school, staring at the beautiful white building with its still sprawling rose garden despite the fact that it’s now the end of October and the cat that wanders through looking irritated with our presence, Jeff turns to me.
“You…you should probably never leave.”
I’m pretty sure he’s telling me this because we tend to openly display affections of hating each other at any given moment, and by me staying in Paris, it’s clear that he’ll never have to see me again in the States.
But what he’s actually saying is that this place is amazing. That each day that I decide to look at this city in my routine-eyes, I miss the ways in which new eyes are Wowed by this city. Capital W. Wowed.
It’s true. While I’m here, I tend to get lost a little less, stay focused on my course work a little more, begin to see the Eiffel Tower as, oh yeah, you know, just the Eiffel Tower, because I see it every day to school and it’s just a part of the scenery now.
But it shouldn’t be that way. Paris should still wow me. Paris should still open my eyes every so often. And this week it did.
Two moments:
A man on the Metro takes out his teeth, holding them in his hand, and smiling, listening to the accordion duet on the other side of the train.
A man walking down the street, in the 16th arrondissment, walking six donkeys tied together, helping them cross the street at a green light and continuing on their merry way.
These moments didn’t wow me as much as make me feel weird about the city that I’m living in, make me wonder why it is I have fallen in love with this place. But this moment really did wow me.
My first time in the Shakespeare and Company bookstore, I actually stopped in my tracks and Wowed aloud. Listening to the woman behind the counter speak perfect British English, describing the plans to make reservations to have Jeannette Winterson speak at the store, with thousands and thousands of books – American! English! – stacked behind, just begging to be read, just begging to be opened, Wowed me. It reminded me of why I write, why I read, and why new places still need to be discovered while I’m here. I had needed a good Wow, and this was it, making my eyes see the city new again, thanks to some visitors from the States and piles and piles of books just waiting to be read, to be written all over again.
posted by Kate at
12:26 PM
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