Happy Halloween, Paris! Who are you tonight?
Moi, je me déguise en Gainsbourg et je me cache dans ton cœur.
I disguise myself as Gainsbourg and I hide myself in your heart.
Yes, I am happily hiding in my flat again, away from the Draculas and the parties, having turned down all the invitations I received. From my flat windows, I can see a bunch of police officers pulling someone to a corner, again. Routine procedure, apparently – it’s a lively quartier.
A lot has happened since my last letter, from an artistic photo shoot with a talented photographer friend, me crying at Le China at a tribute concert to Serge Gainsbourg, to me stopping someone from getting beaten up by my musician friends for “flirting” too hard with me (he was lucky it was not in the 5th arrondissement or a lot worse would happen), but I had been staying home from last Saturday morning until this afternoon. Yes, not going out for two nights is pretty hard to do, actually! Especially when the best jazz club is just across the road and your circle of musician friends has become larger – there is always a concert to attend somewhere. Remember that Dina who lived in the English countryside and walked in the woods without a joint? You’ve forgotten? Turns out she still lives inside me.
I love the fact that I have, not only survived living in Paris on my own, but also met so many amazing people, from musicians to gangsters, who adore me. Yet this cool Parisian life can be exhausting especially because I have to go to La Sorbonne during the day, do my laundry, keep the flat tidy, do my French exercises and finish translation work – I barely have time (or spare money) to eat. Yup! I have lost over 4 kilograms since my arrival in Paris. We call it the Parisian regime, shall we? When I go to a café for an espresso or to a restaurant to have a glass of wine and the waiter asked what I would like to eat I normally say: je suis parisienne, je ne mange pas ! They never argue.
It’s true: going out and having fun can feel like work sometimes. In Paris, being alone has become a privilege and staying home is a luxury I cannot always afford. I know it is important, at the moment, to be in touch with the world and keep expanding my connections with human beings, but every soul needs some time on its own. Thanks to my clever money management, I walk home from La Sorbonne alone everyday, through Jardin du Luxembourg, past the fabulous streets of Odéon and the fabulous boulevard Saint-Germain. It is my daily dose of vitamin C: vitamine du cœur.
You might be judging me for not making good use of my stay in Paris like going to museums and taking memorable selfies in every landmark, but I am not here as a tourist. This is what real Parisians do – they go out to see their friends and have fun all night, mostly in the same place, sleep during the day and somehow manage to do their work in between and know every street there is to know. I’m like that. Only, unfortunately, I always wake up no later than 9 am, even if I go home at 7 am – blame the lovely church bells, will you? Ah well, I’m only a faux Parisian, a dedicated one though. But real Parisian hides too, sometimes, just like me. Not answering phone calls or replying to text messages is as normal as being fashionably late. If you’re on the receiving end of these treatments, remember: it’s nothing personal, it happens to everyone from time to time.
Although I often go to concerts alone, there are always people I know there, usually performing. This is why I still crave total solitary from time to time – a date with myself, you might call it. And today was a beautiful, sunny Monday in Paris. And what’s more, La Sorbonne has currently jours de congé so no school today and tomorrow. I decided to go for a walk in the afternoon, pausing my current translation work. Notre Dame, Cité, Châtelet, Hotel de Ville, Le Marais – all within walking distance. In my Gucci block heels, no headphones, it was an amazing experience. A bit of window shopping and minor high street therapy, which I normally detest (I hate queuing), before walking back home, capturing the seductive sunset over La Seine along the way while the Notre Dame was dancing its dusky tones.
Having just arrived home, I suddenly felt like going to Montmartre for more solitary walk. It’s been one of my favourite areas for a long time and it’s been awhile. Arrived at Abbesses metro station and remembered to use the elevator to exit the station. Do not try to admire the beautiful mural along the spiral staircase to the exit – there’s plenty of steps, 200 to be exact! It is pretty though, it’s even featured in the movie Le fabuleux destin d’Amélie Poulain. Maybe try once for the experience. I did. Twice. By mistake. Memory decline.
Out of the elevator, I climbed up the many steps to Sacré Cœur for a decent instagram picture. My French soul sister Isabelle recommended me to try Brasserie Barbès so I walked through a pickpocket and prostitute area to get there and finally have a bite – I hadn’t eaten anything all day. Yes, I arrived intact, I’ve been through worse at later hours in Paris. But damn my haircut attracts attention wherever I go! Anyway, I spent 20 euros on a glass of Côte de Provence rosé, three oysters and a plate of carpaccio de poulpe. All delicious, by the way, and the place was fabulous. You should visit this place if you are cool enough to ditch your Place Vendôme reference. My advise: wear a long parka on top of your cute outfit, it sends a message that spells “je ne suis pas sexy, laissez-moi tranquille”.
My solitary plan worked really well until I received a text message from a very good musician friend who invited me to come and see him play at the legendary Le Chat Noir. So funny it was just a few minutes away from where I was admiring my tasty octopus carpaccio. Too convenient not to go – see? It’s difficult to stay alone in Paris once you are considered part of the circle!
But it was meant to be. I mean, I have a big Chat Noir poster hanging on the wall in my dining room in England, a mini Chat Noir wind up music box and a Chat Noir toothpick holder and I finally got to walk in to the place as an honoured guest. It was not as grand but not less cool than La Coupole where Picasso also used to hang out when he had moved from Montmartre to Montparnasse. I especially adore the ceiling bearing cool arts and the names of the artists who used to meet up and hold exhibitions there. I stayed for half an hour enjoying the blues my friends were playing. I then waved goodbye and started my solitary journey home by metro (I have never once called a taxi in Paris – sorry, Uber!)
Back home. Back to hiding mood. Shoes off. Pyjamas on. Gainsbourg on speaker. Nibbling stinky cheeses. Drinking coffee with cognac. Feet up. Writing to you. C’est ça la vie. La vie parisienne.
je t’embrasse !
d.o., le 31 octobre 2016
P.S. Photo by Naomi Wu
Imagined Paris 