I walk now along the Seine, that border between the last little wild bit of river in Paris and the manmade city that comes right up to its banks. All thoughts of itineraries are lost, the frenetic energy of getting here falls away and I walk slowly now. It reminds me of being in Hawaii and letting go of time, realizing the ocean and the waves don't have an itinerary, and I can pedal slowly and get to the beach when I get there.
Paris has opened its arms and embraced me today. I have shed some anxiety, hurrying or confusion that somehow marked me as a tourist...or perhaps its just that today i decided to leave the guidebook back in the room and do like I did when I first learned my way around seattle - go out and see if I could get lost, and then find myself there.
I know something is different because 4 people have stopped me to ask directions. the first 3 were french and were quite dismayed when it dawned on them that they had been duped and "je ne parle pas francais" (the last lady didn't say it, but I could see it in her eyes "merde!"), the 4th person to stop me was an american asking me very slowly "Mc-Don-alds? Mc...Don...alds?" He was quite ecstatic and relieved to find out that I too was American and understood everything that came out of his mouth - then all his hopes were crushed when he realized he too had been duped because I had NO IDEA where the closest McDonalds was!
My mom always wonders how this happen - I go to a strange place and seemingly fit right in - saying "how do you blend in so fast?" I don't think I blend so much as once I get my bearings and have looked at a map I generally know where I am - and even if I don't I still kinda walk around like I know where I'm going. It is apparently quite dismaying for others, especially for french people who are lost and americans looking for mcdonalds :)
My feet take me through small alleys and streets - galleries filled with all manner of paintings, porcelain, antiques, tile etc. I enter a narrow studio, where if I stretched I bet I could touch my fingertips to each side. Meeting a french woman from Brazil there who paints pictures of wind and sea that capture the essence and spirit of them, without being them. Funny struggling with french today, wrestling bits of it on my tongue, to make known some small piece of how her art moves me - something in her eyes and her embrace of my hand tells me she understands. I speak more slowly and carefully today and it seems to be working.
I pass a woman in pink cargo pants and hat with Paris emblazoned in silver glitter on it. I have to give her props for the bling and the pink, but I feel I am not like her today, as she stands there discussing the map with her husband. i have slid into a different place. somewhere in between, not as foreign, but still different.
I finally find another thing I have been seeking - a hole in the wall cafe with only people speaking french - no fancy chairs and tourist out front - and just in time as it starts to rain again. i have a beer and write until my hand hurts. I am humbled again, this time by the sheer artistic talent all around me. Yesterday, I was thinking, what would my life have been like had I dared to leave science and pursue art? if I had given artistic creativity the time and dedication I gave to the study of math and science - chemistry, biology, and paleontology? but today I wonder - perhaps being a public artist is not for me and it is more like what my friend Elga, used to say, "we are happiest when we live with our (own) art" making it, hanging it, letting corners and pieces of it be seen by family, friends, and making more.
Mostly, I continue to walk around Paris in a state of nearly complete awe and am reminded of one of my favorite DMB songs:
its crazy, i'm thinking
just knowing that the world is round
i'm here dancing on the ground
am I right side up or upside down?
is this real, or am I dreaming?
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2 comments:
I remember the delicious feeling I had when I arrived in Moscow from the direction of China, and someone asked me for directions in Russian. I could have jumped for joy. Partly, it was about not sticking out like a sore thumb for once.
But I think it was also about that relaxation. That state of relaxed wandering, not worried really where one is headed, just taking it in, enjoying it all.
Maybe you have imbibed the 'je ne sais quoi' that french women seem to have, and that's why you blend right in...
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