Monday, 10 April 2017

April In Paris

Yesterday was delightful. Usually, a weekend with absolutely nothing whatsoever planned tends to strike the fear of God into me. What am I going to do? Will there be enough things to occupy my time with? Will I just end up sat on the sofa watching re-runs of Judge Judy instead of something productive? I was having a crisis just like this on Friday as the whole weekend opened itself up to me. Do you know what my savior was? The sunshine! It seems clichéd to talk about Paris in springtime being the most magical time of year but I'm pretty clichéd already so I'll bite that bullet. 
Blossom blowing in the breeze, friends frolicking and children playing with carefree abandon, the atmosphere was so ethereal that it was only when I remember to check my phone's pedometer than I realized that I had walked nearly 10km without really having a purpose. My mind was on enjoying the moment and soaking up the happiness around me. If there is one thing the Parisians do well, it's Sunday afternoons in spring. All of their plans seem to be so perfectly planned yet spontaneous. They profite-bien from the short spell of fantastic weather so that going into the office on Monday morning you have a spring in your step safe in the knowledge that you truly made the most of the weekend.
I was in a bit of a creative rut last week so I was in dire need of some fresh air and a good stretch of my legs while pontificating on life and meandering the streets of Paris. The Marais had been mostly pedestrianized so I could saunter along at my own pace while basking in the glorious weather. For a split second I felt like I was in a Nouvelle Vague film, high-waisted trousers on and sunglasses artfully placed in my freshly coiffured blonde hair. I must have looked the epitome of an English girl in Paris believing she is the first to have discovered all of the sights. I browsed shops I wouldn't usually go into and I sat with a plate of saucisson sec and une pinte de blonde like the French do except I did have a cigarette in hand, I had my book instead. Is there any better cure for Writer's Block than returning to your initial idea? To your raison d'etre? This is exactly how I thought my life in Paris would span out so it felt good to actually get out there and to enjoy this life I have created for myself. Even in the lows times, I relish the opportunity to take a good book down to the river or to a park and to half-read half-people watch. 
Now that this flaneuse has recharged her batteries ever so slightly, she can get back to the important tasks at hand. Enjoying life. Eating well. Self care. And finally embracing becoming More Native Than The Natives. 

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