Midday in Paris

During several moments today in my beautiful walk through MontMartre, I felt one with the city of Paris. Somewhere in the middle of my town guide’s story on Van Gogh, my mind started wondering what he must have felt like pouring his anxiety onto canvas to paint beautiful Parisian rooftops. Or how Madame Dalida, who I knew nothing about prior to my visit, must have felt coming up as an artiste in a time when women were scorned for being ‘too much’ in the public eye.

Looking in these beautiful Hausmanian houses, I started wondering how it must feel like living in Paris. Breathing it in daily. Sitting in the balcony with your cat and peering down onto hordes of tourists getting amazed by this place you now call home. Riding beautiful old cycles you inherited from your parents through cobbled streets that feel preserved like I have preserved some of my happiest memories over time.

12 years ago, I wrote a silly blog post romanticizing Paris (and living in the past) after I watched Midnight in Paris. It amazes me how walking through MontMartre makes me appreciate Paris in the same way I thought I would all this while ago.  

Gliding through these beautiful streets, I discover a quaint cafe and order a large spread. An extremely kind waitress recommends the perfect glass of Rose and announces 'Pasta!!' with a click of her tongue as she delivers my food. I sit near the entrance of this cafe, a small table with an ashtray, and look out into the street watching people go by.

An older French lady with her baguette.

A girl cycling up the street wearing a dress.

A man my age in a football jersey and bicycle shorts going for a run.

I watch the lives of people who live here- the humdrum of their days unfold before me and strangely feel like I have lived here for a long time.

An older French man comes in, takes the only other table for 1 by the door entrance, greets the waitress who was serving me and orders the exact same pasta and wine I ordered. He gives me a little nod and we both go back to being observers of life in Paris.