I’ve now been in Paris for 5 days…and while this is an exceptionally short period of time in which to have both looked upon it with wide and eager eyes as well as waved a tentative goodbye i feel it is time to continue my travels. My floral bed sheets and thick duck feathered quilt seemed to sag into the bed in mourning of my impending departure as I packed the last of my belongings back into the black case from which they came. If only I could keep this place for myself….perhaps this inexorable desire is why I leave with a small snow globe; the Eiffel tower looming over the sprawling city of lights amidst the slow falling white flakes. I leave my pink umbrella in the knotted branches of a Ginkgo tree near the Café de Flore, a place I spent so many mild Parisian mornings with a good book and a latte. I will take a lot from this city and thus I shall leave a small piece of myself behind…
Perhaps I should provide a brief recap of the last few days; so much has happened I couldn’t possibly explore every glorious detail in this short blog but I shall do my best….
The last thought upon which I left you hanging involved the charming male specimen who found his way over to my table bearing the telling smile I would come to grow fond of over the following days, which I perceived to have unintentionally implied ‘im sexy and you know it’. His name was Anton, I introduced myself as Jane; he was a Parisian local with a rather firm grasp on the English language, luckily enough for me. We chatted over coffee that morning, he seemed delighted at my Australian heritage; I was delighted by his deep green eyes and roughly swept dark hair. He insisted on posing as my tour guide and was determined to show me a side of the wondrous city most tourists turn a blind eye to or are simply not so privileged as to experience. That afternoon he took me to an all expenses paid lunch in a quaint French home-style restaurant on the river Thames where I tasted my first snail; something I had sworn never to do but which I had somehow been coerced into. Maybe it was the warmth of the slight afternoon breeze or the pieces of sunlight fighting their way through the entanglement of leaves and branches to form a dancing pattern upon our outside table; but for some nameless reason the taste of herb infused snail was not met with even the slightest hint of detestation, but rather a vague appreciation. Anton enquired about my world back home; I gave him a very brief overview of my older sister Jen; the ever perfect doted upon golden child…without the gory details of course. To him she is merely a legal secretary to the highest paid lawyer in Sydney: a job which I should have aspired to instead of condemned according to my parents. And they wonder why I don’t see her much. If they wonder at all…Oh and my parents…luckily for Anton he has no inkling that they were in fact the reason I left home on my 18th birthday, nor do they I suspect… The beautiful picture I Painted for Anton was one of family camping trips in an aussie outback setting, riding my bike home from school to a big family home (that part was true) to be met by a kiss on the cheek, a ‘how was your day darling?’, and a warm hearty meal on the table. This elaborate fairytale of domestic bliss seemed to delight the good natured Anton, enough for him to ask me to join him the next day….feeling a little guilty I obliged and we agreed to meet at noon. The next day after strolling around the small park for a few moments, distracted by the laughter of children floating upon the wind as they larked about in a sandpit I stood and watched their blissful and carefree smiles for a short time. Endless balls of energy; it was their zest for life which inspired me to live in the same way: appreciating every moment in itself and not worrying or caring what the next will bring. A heavy hand upon my shoulder startled me from my intent gaze; I looked around to find he held a gift the other. The card read ‘vous êtes belle’, and he bore the same smile which I now understood as meaning ‘your sexy and I know it’… His sweetness aroused a softness within me, if only for a second. I placed the gold bracelet upon my undeserved wrist before he led me, arm in arm, away from the now seemingly distant laughter.
The Bracelet Anton Surprised Me With.
Our first encounter was defeated only by our second; he took me to the Paris ‘Freeze’ (a lot of fun although I must say im not accustomed to being so still for such an extended period of time– the video can be seen on my youtube account), to dinner and then introduced me to Camille, an eccentric French artist whom I have fallen for…
as we left the small bar in which she played I scrambled for my umbrella in the rain and upon finally opening it into the vicious raindrops striking us like tiny soldiers, he kissed me.
I left him with a light kiss on the cheek and a promise of seeing my face in the morning. But I am one prone to breaking such binding things as rules and promises…. I cant say why, but I was consumed by an irresistible urge to leave today. Perhaps I simply cannot be bound by anyone but myself… whatever the case, I closed the door behind me with one last glance at his sleeping body; no note, no explanation, no means to contact me…not even my real name. Just a pink umbrella in a tree a few doors down….
So here I am, waiting so restlessly again for my flight. This time im headed to London, and am researching hotels at this very moment on an airport computer; they do come in handy when you need them. Oddly enough I am eagerly anticipating playing the tourist once more: the wax museum, London eye, Big Ben, Windsor Castle,….the list is endless but im determined to fit it all in. By the end of my trip I shall have become the most efficient tourist of all time, providing there is an end to it of course…
We shall commune again once I have landed on English soil, I am sure there will be much to divulge!
-Alaina
