This post is a bit more personal than the others I have written, serving as an ode to a previous life of mine. I pour my heart out about my experiences and eternal memories of my Parisian past life and my deep connection to the city…
Wandering the streets of Paris is one of my fondest memories. The first time I visited Paris was on the occasion of my sweet sixteen with my mother. We stayed at my Aunt and Uncle’s house in La Courneuve just outside of the city limits. It was more family oriented as I met distant relatives and friends of my cousin for the first time, but I did get the chance to see all the major attractions from Notre Dame to the Eiffel Tower.
It was a trip of many “firsts” as both drinking and smoking are allowed from the age of sixteen. I’ll just leave it at that and let you use your imagination to fill in the blanks. My first taste of Western Europe was a whirlwind of newfound freedom and romanticism that left me craving even more.
When I came back home, I immediately signed up for a night class at the local community college to begin learning French, while I juggled a full schedule of IB classes and studied Spanish during the day. I submersed myself in all things francophone, even writing nearly every major essay on French history topics and how to do business in France all the way through the end of college, where I actually minored in French studies and eventually gained fluency in the language. I became a full on Francophile.
I returned to Paris again three years after my first visit at the age of 19, once more for the New Year. This time I had a handful of French born friends that I had made through my cousin. We were all Serbs of course, incorporating Serbian, French, and a little English when we would talk. They would teach me more French colloquial terms and slang as we frequented cafés and the sights of Paris.
I had one friend with whom I would just wander all day long through the streets of Paris, taking the metro, popping in and out of shops of restaurants while she served as my personal guide to the city. We were a crazy pair, even jaywalking (or more like jay-running) over the eight lanes of the roundabout circling the Arc du Triomphe instead of taking the underpass like normal people.
I discovered the city on foot, which was all the more magical with the Christmas lights covering the city and the smell of vin chaud wafting from every small café that I would pass by. I was able to get a taste for real Parisian life because of my family and friends there; going to house parties, shopping at the local grocery stores, visiting modern malls in the suburbs or banlieues.
I ended up visiting Paris yet a third time the following year, again around Christmas time, my favorite time to visit the city. I did my usual rounds of visiting my favorite sights, but each time I found myself more in tune with the locals, opting to search for hole-in-the-wall joints and cafés far away from the tourist traps.
Even though I’ve been three times to Paris, I still haven’t seen it all. After taking more French history classes towards the end of my college career, I discovered even more places I had no idea existed in my beloved city. The more I visited, the more I realized that there was more see under the superficial façade of well-known tourist attractions. I’m convinced that even my friends and family who were born there might not even know of all the historical places and artifacts still lurking around the corner in Paris, like the ruminants of Philip Augustus’s wall.
It appears that I’d have to live there a lifetime to uncover all the beauty and history of the most romantic city in the world. I’ll be sure to return a dozen more times, but until then, Paris remains both a memory and a dream for me.
