I took notes whenever something "of note" happened.
On Oct. 2., a Tuesday., I left my bag on a train. I was coming from orientation, where me and the other English language assistants in my zip code learned the ins and outs of our assignments. (Actually, I was coming from the bar we all went to afterward). It was a purple laptop bag I lost. My laptop wasn't inside. Instead, it was filled with copies of important documents, except one original document that I later found was easier to replace than I expected. Life was not over. But I learned my lesson.
On a Sunday in October, I heard church bells ringing from my room. I'm a short walk away from the Église Saint-Ouen — an old Catholic church famous for something. You can always find an old Catholic church here famous for something. I remember checking my phone to see what time it was. 10:20. I wondered why the bells wouldn't ring on the hour. It was a foggy, overcast day, and it looked like it had just rained. New friends who I would later lose touch with were already in Paris at Centre Georges Pompidou — museums are free the first Sunday of every month.
I knew I wouldn't get out of bed early enough to meet them.
On a Friday night in October — it was Oct. 9, actually — I checked out bars in Paris, the Ninth Arrondissement, with other assistants. One was called La Comète, on Rue Fauborg Monmartre. I ordered a drink called the AK 47. But when you order, you have to ask for an "ah kah quarante sept."
It was so good I took a picture: Zubrówka, mango, and passion fruit.
The other bar is called Syphax. It's cheap, and I got a great lime drink called a Caïpirinha. There were bright read tables and black chairs. We sat outside, and, at a nearby table, a man sitting with his friends smoked a cigarette. He politely turned away from his friends when he had to blow out the smoke, blowing it in my direction instead. I remember hearing French trap music coming from the speakers.
A day later, I went out for "Nuit Blanche," a hyped up night of illuminated art installations around Paris. We actually ended up not really seeing anything, ending the night sitting along the Seine instead. Still, I snapped a few pics though.
Some time during these two weeks, I learned euphemisms for curse words.
In English, it's shoot instead of shit. But in French, it's merrrrcredi (Wednesday) instead of merde (shit).
"Danneuse" is like saying dang instead of damn.
I spend my weekends in Paris. The next weekend, I believe, a group of us were out again, hopping from place to place. We decided we'd try to check out a gay bar, Le Raidd.
It's in the popular Marais neighborhood.
The same people who decided Brooklyn was the place to be in New York and the Mission District was the cool part of San Francisco decided the Marais is the new hip neighborhood of Paris.
The bouncer wouldn't let us in.
"Trop de filles," he said. Too many girls.
I live so far away, if I stay out past 12:20, I can't take trains back. Instead, I hop on a night bus I can catch from Saint Lazare.
That night, I took the night bus back home. Right before the second bus stop in the commune of Pierrelaye, a guy in a red hoodie started falling asleep on the shoulder of the man next to him. My headphones were in, but, judging by the gestures, it looked like the man offered to switch seats so the sleepy hoodie guy could lean on the window instead. It was 3 a.m.
The hoodie guy declined. Within a few minutes, he was sleeping on the man's shoulder again. Some girls across from him giggled.
I thought it was sweet.
Now, looking back, I think of all the strangers' shoulders I've leaned on since arriving. People who might have helped me out, in ways large and small.
The proprietor's daughter, who brought me the chocolate cake.
The family friend, who offered me her home when I didn't have one.
The stranger I haven't met yet, who will help me some time soon.
It's February, now, as I reflect on all of this. I'm already trying to prepare for the months ahead. My next steps.
It's winter, but I'm thinking about the summer. And I'm writing about fall.
My mind split between present, future and past.
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