Restored Hope

And I haven't even visited the newly-opened Starbuck's! I figured out some things yesterday. I got up early, put on my Nikes, Patagonia jacket and J.Crew sweatpants, and I marched out the door like a true American to power-walk the streets and gardens of Paris. The air was cool and heavy with dusk's fog that hadn't yet been burned off by the sun. I left my iPod behind and just breathed deeply and let my mind wander, knowing I needed to figure out a solution to this funk I've been in. My friend Matty sent me an email wondering how I could possibly be feeling down in "the best city in the world" and as I walked down small cobblestone streets, past boulangeries with shining lights, emitting a melange of smells from the sweet breads and bitter coffee, I realized that I truly am in the best city in the world. People were out walking their dogs, carrying briefcases to work, their perfume still fresh, their hair still perky, their clothes still pressed. The streets were still wet from the night's washing, and as I rounded the corner to the entrance of the grand Jardin des Tuleries, I saw the Eiffel Tower still encased in fog to my left, the rounded metal rooftops so characteristic of Paris to my right, and the gleaming gold tip of the Concord pillar in front of me at the far end of the garden. Expanses of garden stretched out in front of me as men were already out trimming rows of hedges and tilling up the soil plots which soon will be planted with spring flowers. I noticed a tent being constructed along one side of the garden, and two men were installing a piece of modern art in a section of the garden seemingly dedicated to such (as the rest of the garden is full of marble statues obtained by Napoleon in his many conquests). I found two reflecting pools I didn't know existed, and on my way back through the Palais Royale garden, the large center fountain had been turned on and chairs had been unstacked for petit-dejuner at the various cafes lining the streets along my route.

Not only did I realize that morning walks may be the solution, but it also occurred to me that all this time I've been trying to fit in, I've also removed myself from the position I was in when I fell in love with Paris in the first place. I loved it for everything that made it so Parisian--the cafes with chalkboard signs advertising cafe and croissants, the sweeping art-deco design style, the beautiful buildings with wrought-iron balconies and expansive gardens with chairs set around the grass, flowers, and fountains. The little shops and tiny alley-ways and hidden staircases. And as I have worked to create my life here, trying hard to cease being and looking and acting like a "tourist", my senses have numbed to those things which thrill me about Paris. So as my morning walks will take me through different parts of the city, in my American walking gear, I will constantly be reminded of all those things that brought me here in the first place.

Today's medical appointment also restored some much-needed hope in the whole French way of doing things. Luckily I was in the first group of people for the day, but I was told where to wait, I was called promptly, they took an x-ray picture of my lungs (seen here, yes...I just love that I get to keep my proof of healthy lungs!), I spoke with a doctor who asked a number of questions and took my blood pressure, and then the receptionist explained the papers I was given and the process for buying "stamps" for my "titre de sejour" (residence permit). I walked to a nearby tabac to buy the stamps, went back to the building to see another woman behind a different desk to hand in all my necessary papers, and she told me when I could return to pick up my official (final!) "titre de sejour". Everybody was helpful and pleasant, and I was finished with everything in under 2 hours. As I exited the metro near my apartment, x-ray envelope and French newspaper in hand, I just started laughing. I am official. Everything is real--I'm living here, I have papers, I can come and go as I want for the next year and I made it through the process. And it wasn't so bad afterall.

That's the thing about slumps. When you crawl out of one, you can look back and say it wasn't so rough. It is even cold, gray and raining a bit today, but all of it feels good. I will meet my friend Henderson in a bit to make our "connaissance" with the Starbucks on my street, and then I will go to class. I do not have phonetics today, so I might even use my movie pass to catch a film this evening, especially if it's still raining. As Leah would say, the world is my French oyster, and I need to not forget it!