My first few days in Paris can be categorized
by a sense of enchanted confusion. I arrived a few days before the
start of my upcoming study abroad program with the intention of renting a Craigslist
apartment. Standing there in front of the stoop with far too many
heavier-than-lead bags I rang the bell and rang the bell and rang it.
Nobody answered, and nobody showed up. So my first time being stood up
was by a man from Craigslist. I suppose it could have been worse. I looked to the right and saw a hotel next door that was overpriced, but it did the job admirably, and had the advantage of being in
an utterly charming neighborhood.
Somewhere between le 10e et le 20e, I wandered down narrow, crowded streets and I did my laundry at a laverie. It was my first time doing laundry in a communal wash-place outside of university. It was also an excellent test of my French, and my patience. Seated, waiting the hour it took for my clothes to wash, I met some interesting characters. Two little girls, Sara et Matilde approached me, little pink and white beads dangling from the ends of their braids. They took the seat to my right. We spoke for a while about les chevaux that they were riding. As plastic and green as horses I'd ever seen. Matilde spent the majority of the time correcting the pronunciation of my name as Sarah delivered it "Elisa", "Non, pas Elisa. C'est Elisa-bet"!
Henri took the seat that the girls had had upon their departure. Henri was about my age with blonde hair and a book under each arm. He was a master's student at La Sorbonne, a place where I may take a couple courses, and his cheeks turned fuscia when he looked at me. I smiled.
I left the laundromat and headed in a direction. I did not know where my feet would take me or where I would end up but I knew that I would know it when I found it and I did just that. I found a river. The sun was roasting my brown skin and I reveled in it. I sat down at the concrete embankment beside two Chinese tourists who were speaking perfect, unaccented French.
I lied down on top of all my clean clothes that smelled of soap and I closed my eyes. I thought about all the fuss people make over Paris and how all of those fuss-makers were right. Paris is alive, like a beating heart. Thump thump, thump thump. Hot and sweltering and sore and beautiful and so full of light.
Somewhere between le 10e et le 20e, I wandered down narrow, crowded streets and I did my laundry at a laverie. It was my first time doing laundry in a communal wash-place outside of university. It was also an excellent test of my French, and my patience. Seated, waiting the hour it took for my clothes to wash, I met some interesting characters. Two little girls, Sara et Matilde approached me, little pink and white beads dangling from the ends of their braids. They took the seat to my right. We spoke for a while about les chevaux that they were riding. As plastic and green as horses I'd ever seen. Matilde spent the majority of the time correcting the pronunciation of my name as Sarah delivered it "Elisa", "Non, pas Elisa. C'est Elisa-bet"!
Henri took the seat that the girls had had upon their departure. Henri was about my age with blonde hair and a book under each arm. He was a master's student at La Sorbonne, a place where I may take a couple courses, and his cheeks turned fuscia when he looked at me. I smiled.
I left the laundromat and headed in a direction. I did not know where my feet would take me or where I would end up but I knew that I would know it when I found it and I did just that. I found a river. The sun was roasting my brown skin and I reveled in it. I sat down at the concrete embankment beside two Chinese tourists who were speaking perfect, unaccented French.
I lied down on top of all my clean clothes that smelled of soap and I closed my eyes. I thought about all the fuss people make over Paris and how all of those fuss-makers were right. Paris is alive, like a beating heart. Thump thump, thump thump. Hot and sweltering and sore and beautiful and so full of light.
