Saturday, 6 February 2016

PARIS PARIS PARIS









Something about writing at 2 am in the morning is really exciting. Will I finish this post before 4? Will I get to sleep in tomorrow? How hard can a test be with two hours of sleep? Cake.

There is no way getting on a plane doesn’t excite me. Even if I’m going to spend a miserable week working in Tijuana with unrecovered feet from a recent surgery, there is just something about airports that thrill me to my very core no matter where it is that I am headed. Isn’t it amazing how planes work? It is just like magic, one second you’re boarding a plane in Mexico city and just a few hours later what do you know, you’re disembarking in the future at this airport called Charles De Gaulle. 


French is a beautiful language, if I may say so as a native Spanish speaker, my language never really excites me whatsoever; I actually enjoy English a whole lot more, but that’s just me because apparently people have a thing for Spanish. I guess I didn’t get the memo about that new trend. 

It isn’t until you arrive at a very different country that you understand how important it is to speak two different languages and are actually keen on learning a third one when all of the sudden your brain says “screw it, can’t deal” whilst you’re ordering a “chilled agua s’il vous plait” and the hot French waiter thinks you just lost it. 


Living away from parents and alone for a while has got to be one the most fulfilling experiences ever and should be done by everyone at least once in their lives. No curfews, no chores and the best of them all, NO NAGGING ME for whatever reason. 

A famille d'accueil is like a very nice B&B where you get to understand that particular society by actually having a day to day life with them. Like no big breakfast for the French, what a shame missing on those awesome pancakes or delicious chilaquiles for breaky. My family was originally from Côte d’Ivoire a young couple and their three year old daughter. They are some of the most delightful people I have ever met. My French mum made me feel like home on the very first second I set foot on their flat. 


To put you into perspective, I arrived the Sunday of the Roland Garros final, Djokovic vs Nadal, and my plane arrived just as the match was starting. The whole trip into the city took a whole set and a half of the match and after leaving my crap in my new room the first thing she gave me was the remote, a lemonade jug and a bowl of peanuts. I’m not gonna lie, I was actually juggling the idea of taking the metro to the Champ Mars and watch it by the Eiffel Tower but, as enchanting as that sounds, who could resist a glass of lemonade on a hot summer day? Dinners with my French family were hard at first as not being used to French that fast but they got really interesting as they taught me about culture, politics, economics and some other great issues. 

By the end of the first week it was getting very routine like, except for those Sunset bar nights, nevertheless there is something about waking up in the city of lights and walking every single day past the Opera on my way to school that brings a certain charm factor that no other city can bring because Paris always looks beautiful, even on the most dreadful rainy day. 

Being the incredible cliché lover that I am, there could not have been a better city than Paris to spend my whole summer learning French and enjoying life because let’s face it, who hasn’t dreamt about drinking champagne by the Eiffel Tower on the Champ de Mars on a casual Friday evening? How about a picnic at night by the Seine with some friends, cheese, wine and bread? Where else in the world would you rather hold hands with the cute guy you like? Grands Boulevards’ bars and glorious late night kebabs have to be the best combination for a true night of greatness, when you multiply that by 30, well… it gets pretty interesting, especially with the right combo of people around you. 


There is no other city in the world I would rather sit on the sidewalk of waiting for the metro to open at 6 am after a night of tequila bangers, there is no other place on Earth were you would see a man in a wedding dress on his way to getting married while his partner invites you and your friend to their wedding. I am not kidding, that actually happened while waiting for the metro to open. Unique things happen in Paris, unique things happened to me in Paris. 


My Colombian midget friend is hitting on the hottest Parisian that had ever set foot on the bar we regularly visited. “Marica, ese man esta guapísimo” I cannot state how hard it was to understand her perfectly weird slang at first, (after almost two years, I still struggle) when she just wanted to say “girl, that guy is hot” Simple, yet very complicated. Then we suddenly see this guy laughing only to realise that oh surprise we aren’t the only two people that speak Spanish in France because voilà, hot Parisian does too. Next thing I know I’m talking to this guy’s pretty weird friend so that midget here could get a couple extra minutes with him. All of the sudden I’m saying yes to a double date a couple days later with a very shady guy and midget with the hot Spanish speaking Parisian.



After one of the weirdest dates ever recorded in history, involving four girls and two guys all I can say is that destiny just knows its business, it knows that when it’s not meant to be, it most definitely won’t be. So this six people date went a little wrong by the time the hot Parisian had to leave, midget lost interest and since I was not really digging shady guy, we wanted to leave and weirdly enough so did he, with us. I am a firm believer that things happen for a reason and if the metro doors close right as we were stepping out the carriage leaving shady guy inside just when we were thinking of a way to (I won’t be gentle) get rid of him, I am not going to try and fight fate here, we just waved goodbye while the train started to leave the station and he was at war with the doors that wouldn’t open to let his nose free. 


Paris has its very own way of making everything more exciting and beautiful than it actually is. It is for real the city of love, in no other place on the planet would you meet the most handsome pair of blue eyes and get to spend days and nights walking along Parisian streets holding hands with those eyes. What could be best than sitting next to him to watch him play the piano, or walking next to the river on a summer night as he lends you his jacket when temperature suddenly drops is breathtaking on its own but definitely kicked up a notch when that river is the Seine. 



Road trips get a whole different meaning when you decide to drive to Mont St-Michel and Saint-Malo for a weekend with a group formed by another Mexican, my favourite Colombian midget and a handsome Italian. The delightful train ride to Caen where French people are so absorbed by their own stuff that they won’t even ask for train tickets. What a country. Although, what is it about European hostels where apparently rooms cannot be bigger than a bed? I believe I’ve seen bigger ship cabins than some rooms. 


Even getting lost with luggage and the combo of internationals mentioned above in the longest wheat field you’ve seen to suddenly realise knowing the best French possible won’t really get you out of that is even some amazing experience compared to that same scenario in the middle of fabulous Coahuila where you would just sit down and pray you don’t get kidnapped or robbed. 

I believe I have seen more Mexicans gathered around the Eiffel Tower than in actual Mexico City after winning a World Cup soccer match. In no other place had I felt so at home being so far away and had never connected with people as deeply as I did here. Lifelong friendships and a lifetime of memories; France just brings its A game everywhere.


I didn’t use to get all the fuss about Paris until my third visit staying there for a month and I wish it could have been longer. Paris knows how to make you fall in love with it and forever dream about going back; it is a sweet spell that lures you into saving money just to get back there. I guess Rick and Ilsa will too but I know: we’ll always have Paris.




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