Here I am

So here I am.

In the middle of Paris. At a funny café close to the Royal Palace called Anticafé. You pay for the time you spend here, not the drinks or snacks. Interesting concept attracting many “intellos”, like writers, students, journalits - expats mostly I would say. It took me an hour instead of 30 minutes to get here because I took the longer way to come. Not deliberately of course.

 

Hard to check Google map when on a bike. Especially riding a Velib. Especially in the rain…. Not pouring rain, only “wet enough” as I used to call it when in Ireland.

And Paris is bit like Brussels: no parallels, no structure - streetwise I mean.  Every street leads to somewhere else where you would expect it to. Taking a shortcut would usually take you longer…. Or back to the beginning.

No joke. It happened to me.

Paris is like a big spider net, much prettier of course. But you can get stuck in it with no way out if you don’t know the tricks of this world-famous city.

Such as Velib parking spots. The ones not full. The ones not out of order. The ones not undergoing transformation now that JC Decaux have lost its historical contract with the City Hall giving it to a new supplier who might need half a year or so to replace all stations - and also increase prices, of course. Yes, I could have used the Velib app to spot a free space, which I haven’t done for the reasons mentioned above… well I did after 15 mins of turning around. I should be more digitally driven I know. Life often proves and so did it in this case: when walking to the café, I discovered that 20 meters away from the entrance, just another side of the square where I was 20 minutes before, there was a station, with free spots…. Murphy. Or rather stupid me.

Anyways, who would get upset by being lost in Paris?? I think that’s the whole point of this place.

The place I can call home now. Yes, I have a resident address with postal code 75. Isn't it cool after so much dreaming about?

After 22 years of waiting time… or sort of. It all started in 1995 when joining a French specialised high school in Budapest, I fell in love with everything that was French.

Since that unknowingly decisive moment of stepping in to that school, I fell in and out with the arrogant but stylish Frenchies on many occasions, still, as an invisible magnet, it kept pulling me towards the city of my dreams. We (myself and Paris) have gone through a lot of inner debates about whether we should tie our already tight bonds even tighter. We’ve been close but never close enough. Like a secret relationship, never daring to make this attraction official, just admiring each other from time to time, always from a reassuring distance. From Budapest, Dublin, Brussels or Le Mans. The closest we’ve ever been before but still far enough not to having to cope with the downside of our “love”. Indeed, it’s not easy to make a commitment and bring a relationship at a higher level because when you live with someone, you live with the good and bad. You live with the grey weekdays not only with the sunny weekends. Eventually in Paris it’s usually the other way around when it comes to the weather.

But living with someone is the only way to make it work. To progress. Together. The only way to make it a reality and stop dreaming about an imagined happiness. To make it or break it. Let it go, I mean. The only way to get to know the true side of someone, the whole picture. With all details. Some we might not appreciate that much but others that might make us fall in love even more. That step makes us feel home and not a tourist. Attached. Responsible. Part of it. With expectations, sure. But with obligations also.

Yes, there will certainly be moments, you’d like to escape. Like when you spend hour(s) in traffic jam to get home from work. Note, only happened once so far. Or when one of the weekly general strikes get your scheduled flight cancelled so you don’t travel. Or when, wanting to spend thousands of euros on household items, you realise that they can’t get home-delivered unless you have a French number. Which you don’t because it takes your company months to get one. Unless you make 5 emails and several phone calls to shorten the procedure. So you have a number at least, without a phone. Dual SIM phones being great then.

But you’ll see that’s part of the package you get for having all the other side. An apartment with a (far but distinct) view on the Eiffel Tower. Stepping out from an agency meeting to the Champs Elysées. Enough money to enjoy all the cultural life Paris has to offer, from theaters to concerts and exhibitions in those iconic museums. All within reach. Anytime. Going to dance salsa on a boat on the Seine. Every Tuesday if you feel like. Or for a run on one of its islands. Or on the Petite Ceinture - an old railway track transformed to a park. Wandering the streets, breathing in that particular Paris atmosphere, discovering every time something new you’ve never seen before, charming, beautiful, interesting. Every day if you want to… Seeing your favourite places in all time, all weather, all seasons. Driving a cute little red car to evade to the surroundings, parks, castles… To be honest, driving in Paris is much better than expected, emphasis being on “in”, and of course avoiding peak times. “Peripherique” being usually a nightmare indeed, but it may change in the near future as the Mayor is aiming to clean Parisian air and streets by putting more and more severe conditions (with road closures, parking permits etc) on cars, especially old, diesel, or the polluting ones. Go electric, car sharing, bikes, walks.

But overall Paris is great. Even living here. Loving here.

I feel old now counting back those years. Such a long way to arrive here. But then arriving with style at least. In the best conditions I could ever have imagined. Financially, I mean, to make the most out of this place. Paris has arrived, but has arrived almost too late for me. I’ve turned some pages in my head, re-evaluated my priority ranks, run out of energy, courage and also patience. Patience is a virtue. Sometimes it does pay off indeed. Sometimes it just lets go the opportunity. Hard to tell in real time. Always easier looking back.

But one is for sure: without courage, no dream can come true.

How long should you hold on to your dreams? Or heading to uncertain goals? Waiting for people who might never come? At what price should you do all that? When to say stop? When to give up? When to recalculate itinerary?

Easy questions, hard to find the answers for.

It’s true for everything in life you do. True for amical, love and work relationships. True for your personal and professional goals. As nothing is black and white in life, it's not easy to follow the right signs. That’s why I kept following my heart. My intuition. It has put me out of my comfort zone on many occasions but it has always given me the impression of living. Which goes way beyond "existing". Which gives you the sense of making the most of it. Even if, other than my memories and some words put on (virtual) paper, my life passes by without a trace… Hanging out in an unstable present, grabbing the nostalgic past and embracing an uncertain future. Looking from the outside, I leave no trace (so far): no kids, no fortune, no apartment on my name. Half of my life gone (or who knows, how much) and I only left impressions behind - in people I met. Emotions maybe. Hopefully. Some souvenir with them. I’ve also left some Excel sheets and PowerPoint presentations at work, that no one will ever read again… not sure most of them has got once read. Just telling you, when it comes to priorities. And left some friendships behind me, some heartbreaks, some painful or joyful discoveries that have changed my way of being, thinking, living. Also some questions that I’m still looking the answers for, asked via chats with all kind of people or via my letters, poems, posts published or not.

I’ve checked my blogspot. Last post in 2013. The year I moved to Brussels from Dublin. By the way, I’ve also found a few unfinished, unpublished drafts there… and some scribbles in Word that have never made it to my blog interface. It feels like a time-travel in the past.

Glad to see that blogspot hasn’t disappeared with all the content I’ve created throughout the years…. It might one day.

That’s the thing with digital, and the big cloud, and virtual generally speaking…. You can’t walk the quays of the Seine a hundred years later to pick up an ancient tome of my blog with yellow and half torn pages, sold by the local antic booksellers…. And feel like having found treasure.

No… this won't happen to any "virtual" heritage.

I am curious to see what will happen then to all this digital “waste” in a few hundred years… when Google is gone. Or is dominating the World. Which it already does eventually, without anyone willing to admit it.

Here I am – back writing again. Among people more “graphomaniac” than I am myself. Crazy to look around here and see that. Funny experience that made me open my blogpage 4 years after the last occasion.

I am back to myself.

I feel good.

A dream has come true.