I have literally drafted this blog post about two trillion times. I have 2 and a half weeks left in Paris. Merde. The sun is shining, R is arriving on an early eurostar tomorrow, life is wonderful. So far, my 'list' of things to do is being ticked off nice and neatly, some things being big disappointments, and some being as brilliant as I expected. Cafe Marly, I appreciate that due to your admittedly fabulous location underneath the arcades of the Louvre, you don't have to make an effort with food, service or coffee, but don't you think you should? I was shown to my table by the rudest waiter ever, and then perved on by another whilst I was trying to quietly read some Moliere. The whole thing was bizarre and very disappointing. Then again, my meal with K at Scoop, on Rue Marche St-Honore, was scrummy and a great slice of French-Americana. You win some, you lose some..
I think I am ready to leave. I cannot wait to get back to the girls, long mobile phone conversations, driving on the right side of the road, country air, the sunday papers, my mother's cooking, my bed, my house, a big bathroom.... But then I can't imagine my life without the best falafel in the world literally 50 metres from my door, being able to stroll over the river and up past the Pantheon to S's (my most favourite Parisian walk ever), and an astonishing diversity of culinary options for every night of the week. I am currently obsessing over what to do on my last two days - where to have my last Parisian meal, who to spend my last Parisian day... Unusually, I feel like planning it meticulously would be wrong. This is strange as I adore a plan and can't quite cope without having one. I am not spontaneous on any level at all, and like to get up in the monring knowing exactly what I am doing for the rest of the day. For instance, today, I have finished a translation, cleaned, and am about to go and find the Rose Bakery followed by drinks at a friends this evening. Yet when people press me with what I am going to do with 'my last week', I just say 'whatever I feel like doing' and genuinely have no idea. I don't really subscribe to the whole 'something really special to mark my amazing time here' school of thought, I suppose because I have done special things the whole time I've been here, and the whole thing has been just so special and unique. And that's a lovely thing to realise.
hi, english girl. I get your situation. I spent a year in London, and was obsessing over my final days there and felt the mild pressure to say goodbye to the city in somewhat romantic, grand way... however, i dropped that idea and relaxed the idea of sealing the experience. I decided to roll with whatever comes, and it was very spontaneous and nice. I didn't bother to eat my final favourite cheesecake or stroll by the river for the last time. And it felt good, because I left London somewhat "unfinished" and i regarded it as some sort of intention to come back one day. Life was simply bigger than all of that, and I felt even more connected to the place as I gently floated back into my days here, in my Croatian home. My last day in London was quite unimpressive, but it was my deliberate decision, and i haven't regretted it so far. :)
ReplyDeleteLove your blog, btw. Your "obsessions" remind me a lot of mine at the time & love the Jane pic, and the lady herself. Good luck!