When I was little, I always thought of Paris as a dream, very Disneyland like, having in mind that I visited the Disneyland park in Anaheim, California when I was 3 years old for the first time, and the images I had in my mind years later, were like steels of me enjoying, smiling, surrounded by castles, gardens, super clean streets and stuff. I always dreamed of flying to Paris and thought it was going to be, if not exactly like that, at least similar in spirit, everything like in the movies.
I have already mentioned that I have been lucky enough to have travelled around the world since I was a teenager, my sister and I without parents but with their full support (in every way). The first time in Europe was kind of delayed because Egypt and the Middle East in general got into our way and we left for almost six weeks to an unexpected adventure to a place didn´t even crossed our minds we were going to visit (and connect with as strongly as we did). After these unrepeatable first weeks in the Middle East a nonstop flight to Paris from Cairo was the beginning of a very anticipated french experience.
My first impression was good, I have always had the capacity to see beauty no matter the circumstances, always keeping realistic expectations but being the dreamer I am. The city welcomed us cloudy, humid and warm, kinda grey and a little dirty, as I have mentioned before, dog shit all over town but wearing a dignity with no rivals, like an old french actress from the 50s and 60s, think of Catherine Deneuve today, wrinkled but still beautiful and more elegant than ever. The opera wasn´t till renewed by the time and many façades were cover with scaffoldings and under restoration.
The maintenance of the city was fine, food as well, all ever heard and even better than that, croissants, pastries, cheese, everything was great, the only detail was the language, parisians in general weren´t very fond of the americans at the time, and I was living in San Diego, California with my family then and even I was carrying a mexican passport, that would make me american-ish, ergo they were´t very fond of us either.
Every time I tried to communicate I would mumble something nasal like french and they would be like "Quoi!!!???", then I would ask if they´d speak english and they were like "No english, espagnol!!", I would start speaking spanish and they would be like "No idea… desolé" and there we were, trying to survive in a place we loved but we kinda also hated.
Service in France is not the best, waiters are payed well by the hour and they just have to limit themselves to put whatever you managed to order in the table and that´s it, if you ask for anything in particular that´s extra, like salt, pepper or onion, you better start eating and say good bye to whatever you ordered extra, they would appear for a polite "is everything ok?" and then to deliver "L´addition", the bill, expecting no tip, people don´t usually tip in Paris or France.
The point of the story is, the first time I came to Paris I left 3 or 4 days earlier than what we planned to the-ever-friendly capital of Spain, Madrid with the Tintos de Verano in the sidewalks. We left loving the city and hating the people, nobody wanted to speak to us and the attitude of the parisians was awful, especially for three teenagers traveling here for the first time (a great friend of my sister and I was doing the trip with us). I personally kinda promised to myself I wasn't coming back… but my competitive personality had second thoughts, and as soon as I was back home, I got into french lessons and decided I was going back a year after, only this time speaking french and making myself clear around town. After that, I kept studying french while I studied architecture, the whole 5 years, and always returned to Paris, at least once a year to practice all that I´ve learned along the year.
Today I got myself into french lessons again, for the first time in Paris, at La Sorbonne, they asked me why I wanted to keep studying french and I told the story again after many years, realizing how much in love I am now with the city I thought I hated the first time, how much I love the language I could´t articulate at the beginning of my affair with Paris. Now that I´m here I walk the streets and go to the bakery almost every day and understand what is to be where once I dreamed to live, like a dream you don´t really think you will accomplish, but that turns into the most amazing surprise and a great omen for the other places I have wished to live, a couple more and both of them by the beach and California.
When I make a wish, it´s not like I say what I want just in case. When I make a wish I make it with the certainty that it is greatly probable that it will come true and smile, and then I thank because in my mind that wish it´s already true and on its way.
Did I ever told you about the time I shared bathroom with Gael García Bernal in a hostel in Madrid? With open showers and all. I will tell you tomorrow, happened in the same trip right after Paris.
I have already mentioned that I have been lucky enough to have travelled around the world since I was a teenager, my sister and I without parents but with their full support (in every way). The first time in Europe was kind of delayed because Egypt and the Middle East in general got into our way and we left for almost six weeks to an unexpected adventure to a place didn´t even crossed our minds we were going to visit (and connect with as strongly as we did). After these unrepeatable first weeks in the Middle East a nonstop flight to Paris from Cairo was the beginning of a very anticipated french experience.
My first impression was good, I have always had the capacity to see beauty no matter the circumstances, always keeping realistic expectations but being the dreamer I am. The city welcomed us cloudy, humid and warm, kinda grey and a little dirty, as I have mentioned before, dog shit all over town but wearing a dignity with no rivals, like an old french actress from the 50s and 60s, think of Catherine Deneuve today, wrinkled but still beautiful and more elegant than ever. The opera wasn´t till renewed by the time and many façades were cover with scaffoldings and under restoration.
The maintenance of the city was fine, food as well, all ever heard and even better than that, croissants, pastries, cheese, everything was great, the only detail was the language, parisians in general weren´t very fond of the americans at the time, and I was living in San Diego, California with my family then and even I was carrying a mexican passport, that would make me american-ish, ergo they were´t very fond of us either.
Every time I tried to communicate I would mumble something nasal like french and they would be like "Quoi!!!???", then I would ask if they´d speak english and they were like "No english, espagnol!!", I would start speaking spanish and they would be like "No idea… desolé" and there we were, trying to survive in a place we loved but we kinda also hated.
Service in France is not the best, waiters are payed well by the hour and they just have to limit themselves to put whatever you managed to order in the table and that´s it, if you ask for anything in particular that´s extra, like salt, pepper or onion, you better start eating and say good bye to whatever you ordered extra, they would appear for a polite "is everything ok?" and then to deliver "L´addition", the bill, expecting no tip, people don´t usually tip in Paris or France.
The point of the story is, the first time I came to Paris I left 3 or 4 days earlier than what we planned to the-ever-friendly capital of Spain, Madrid with the Tintos de Verano in the sidewalks. We left loving the city and hating the people, nobody wanted to speak to us and the attitude of the parisians was awful, especially for three teenagers traveling here for the first time (a great friend of my sister and I was doing the trip with us). I personally kinda promised to myself I wasn't coming back… but my competitive personality had second thoughts, and as soon as I was back home, I got into french lessons and decided I was going back a year after, only this time speaking french and making myself clear around town. After that, I kept studying french while I studied architecture, the whole 5 years, and always returned to Paris, at least once a year to practice all that I´ve learned along the year.
Today I got myself into french lessons again, for the first time in Paris, at La Sorbonne, they asked me why I wanted to keep studying french and I told the story again after many years, realizing how much in love I am now with the city I thought I hated the first time, how much I love the language I could´t articulate at the beginning of my affair with Paris. Now that I´m here I walk the streets and go to the bakery almost every day and understand what is to be where once I dreamed to live, like a dream you don´t really think you will accomplish, but that turns into the most amazing surprise and a great omen for the other places I have wished to live, a couple more and both of them by the beach and California.
When I make a wish, it´s not like I say what I want just in case. When I make a wish I make it with the certainty that it is greatly probable that it will come true and smile, and then I thank because in my mind that wish it´s already true and on its way.
Did I ever told you about the time I shared bathroom with Gael García Bernal in a hostel in Madrid? With open showers and all. I will tell you tomorrow, happened in the same trip right after Paris.
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