how i learned to be happy in paris (fall in the city of light)
i am sad, alone, and trying to write: but Z makes me happy by reminding me of the true reason for our trip here: "emily in paris" (retrospective travel diary)
sad in paris
(october 2022)
i am walking around in paris. i am alone. i am sad.
everything is so beautiful:
autumn is my favorite time to be in any european city, and paris enraptures especially in the fall (although admittedly i’ve only ever been in here the fall).
i’m in paris! need to be writing!
(october 2022)
i am alone in paris, even though i have a friend here with me.
i have this idea: i need to be writing. if i don’t produce, i will fail. so i tell my friend, with whom i am traveling for two weeks, that i cannot hang out with her today.
i cannot explore paris with her today.
i must be productive.
isn’t that something you’re supposed to do in a city like paris?
be creative? write? isn’t that what hemingway and fitzgerald did?
a voice in the back of my mind says, “partly — but also they drank, they talked, they partied, they fucked.”
instead of writing, i walk around paris feeling sad. i feel too guilty to get back in touch with my friend.
“i should be writing,” i think again, like a robot. but i don’t write because i am too sad.
i call my friend W.
“i am sad,” i tell him.
but i’m unable to tell him much more than that. there’s always this distance between us: the ocean doesn’t help, but the ocean also doesn’t change anything.
i walk alone for several miles across paris.
that one night when i was 21
(july/august 2009)
my two friends and i were flying from basel to istanbul on a cheap flight that involved a 12 hour layover in paris. we only saw paris by daylight for maybe an hour: then it was sunset and we talked around the city all through the night.
as dusk settled, we sat together outside a cafe.
we saw the exterior of the louvre and notre dame. for hours we walked along the seine. our backpacks were our pillows beneath the eiffel tower at one in the morning.
in the early light we flew to istanbul.
by the standards of proper tourism:
we basically did nothing in paris.
but it was one of the happiest nights and i remember it always.
replicating dublin 2021?
(october 2022)
i am wondering: why am i not feeling happy just walking around alone?
in the past i have really enjoyed walking aimlessly through cities.
i am always clinging to this memory of being alone in dublin in november 2021: i was so happy there; it was fall; and i was just moving between benches reading sally rooney and listening obsessively to phoebe bridgers in my headphones.
shouldn’t i also be happy just doing the same kind of thing here, in paris?
before coming here, i had this whole vision: i’d wander around alone listening to phoebe and feeling the magic of autumn, and then i’d sit down at some cafe to write, inspiration flowing out from me.
but instead, i’m too sad to write. i’m not even listening to music.
more international stories, some true some fiction:
berlin: feelings from a city
how germany helped obliterate the fundamentalist evangelical inside me
night walks, fireworks, and him inside me
his canine teeth in the side of my neck (thanks chappell)
arriving at the eiffel tower
(october 2022)
even when i arrive at the eiffel tower after hours of walking along the seine, i find it difficult to feel happy.
i do not feel the inspiration i thought paris would give me.
the fall leaves are not hitting like they did in dublin.
the art in museums doesn’t call to me like it did when i was here with my girlfriend.
but why?
i’ve traveled alone so often! i’ve loved it! often! i’ve gone to museums alone! often!
and yet today, alone in paris, i am sad.
i am crippled with guilt: “i will never be a writer,” and i care about this thought more than i care about the eiffel tower: “if paris can’t inspire me, what fucking can?”
that time i went up notre dame
(november 2016)
paris with my then-girlfriend in 2016 was a very different experience.
minus some travel stressors, i was happy the entire time.
going to the top of notre dame: it’s the first thing we did off the plane.
every night, we walked by notre dame.
to have that view of paris so quickly after getting off the plane:
simply magical, no matter how little sleep we had.
Z’s presence clears away my guilt
(october 2022)
finally, after a very sad and long day, i meet with my friend Z in the evening.
i am crippled with guilt.
why? i have hardly written anything.
what i have written: well, i’m not proud of it.
i have this sense:
i will never be a good writer no matter how much time i spend in paris.
the moment i see Z is the moment i am happier, the moment i finally smile.
we leave the hostel and grab a couple beers across the street. and i just start to feel so much better talking with Z. slowly i forget about the guilt i was experiencing for not being “productive enough”; for my writing not being “good enough.”
i am no longer able to resist Z’s way of life:
nervously, i ask if i can join her the next day.
“of course!” she says with a beaming smile.
i mean, why wouldn’t she? we came here together.
the next morning, Z and i head out into paris, and i am glowing.
we walk and we walk and we walk. we are talking, and we are having fun.
everything is so beautiful:
we’re in paris! in the fall!
what am i supposed to be doing here?
(october 2022)
Z has things she wants to do.
we grab red wine and baguettes at the grocery store. we take these to the eiffel tower. we have a picnic in the grass!
i tell Z about how my friends and i were here once at one in the morning.
“i’m pretty sure there were rats crawling around,” i say.
we take lots of selfies and there are so many other people out having a nice time.
we walk through beautiful parks!
there are so many pretty leaves!
i buy coffee at kiosks!
and then Z demonstrates for me the other thing i should be doing here, the other thing that has nothing to do with productivity: eating!
(even so i am paranoid about my budget and hardly join: a choice i’d take back lol)
the one thing you really need to do in paris
(october 2022)
but then there is the grand finale: the one big thing that Z is determined to do in paris.
the thing that i feel like: maybe i should be ashamed for wanting to do this?
and so i let Z make me do this.
i say, “i’d never do this if it weren’t for Z.”
and for that, i am so thankful to Z.
because Z takes me to two major filming sites for emily in paris:
lesson learned:
how expectations spoil travel
there is one condition which, in the context of first world problems, always seems to spoil trips:
expectations about having a certain kind of experience.
i am so glad i had Z with me for day two: sometimes you need a friend to show the way,
and always i think you need to remember to be spontaneous.
every experience is going to be unique. often in my life i have fallen into the trap of trying to force something happening in the present to replicate some experience from the past. we should embrace the present for what it is: a new experience.
5 additional readings about experiences in paris:
“In addition to watching some very fun and exciting Olympic games, we have spent the past week eating, drinking, shopping, and touring Paris and I have put together a summary with some of my personal highlights from the trip that I think you guys will enjoy!”
“Emily arrived by chance: young, beautiful, with a job to back her up and no attachments with the exception of a mid-western boyfriend who doesn’t even realize she prefers wine over beer. I arrived with no job, a visitor visa that doesn’t allow me to make actual money here, which doesn’t allow me to get a proper bank account, which doesn’t allow me to get a proper long-term apartment, which relegates me to over-priced AirBnB’s which can’t be rented over 28 days-at-a-time in Paris which forces us to move a LOT with all of our crap which brings me to the question EVERYONE needed to ask before we moved: “Why are you moving there?””
“That’s not the only thing Parisiens are collectively holding their breath for. The rentrée—when the French end their months-long vacations and life returns to normal (i.e. endless demonstrations and protest marches)—is not until next Monday, but people are already trickling back and shops are slowly starting to open again. It’s both depressing to think of summer ending and a relief to be able to go pick up my dry cleaning, which has been trapped for weeks.”
“I’m certainly not French, so I can’t speak to the show’s accuracy in depicting Parisian life. But having briefly lived and worked in New York, what I can attest to is that women like Emily do exist. They are beautiful, ambitious, have (interesting) style and just haven’t experienced life outside of America yet.1 I used to be envious of them, once, of their naivety and ease in which they navigate the world.
I’m still not exactly sure how my career panned out the way it did, but like Emily, I am also a marketing girlie. Having worked in the industry for almost five years, there is some truth to the glitz and glamour depicted within the universe of Emily in Paris. Brands do give you a lot of free stuff, you’re always being schmoozed in some swanky rooftop bar and yet somehow I’m always on making a fool of myself while scrambling to capture content for social media.”
“T-one week until we’re back in the best place. Ready to see some street style, meet new people that inspire, and wear some fabulous clothes. Below are my current Paris favorites.”
Great read--and your pictures made me smile (well, the sunny ones. I'm not quite ready for falling leaves :/ ). Thank you for the mention!
What a fun and absolutely RELATABLE read Andrew! And thank you for the mention! Bisous! xx