On first day back in Paris, I crashed on my bed for an hour after getting home from the airport. Because it was so mild, I a window open and fell asleep to the sounds on rue St. Denis....trucks and high heels clacking and clothing carts rolling across the cobblestone street. It sounded foreign, and like every time I return from the States, I feel like I don't belong; I know I am foreign, I feel out of place. I needed to venture out and reacquaint myself. Instead of walking the cute and Frenchie rue Montorgueil, I just went straight down St. Denis. It may be the "red light" street, but it's my street. While I've passed the same man who stands outside one of the peep show on my side of the street nearly every single morning going to class, I've never spoken with him. But on that day, he looked at me, smiled, said, "Bonjour", and I returned it with "Bonne annnée" (happy new year.....the imperative first greeting after the new year has commenced). He wished me good health (the second imperative in this round of one-time-a-year greetings) and I wished him the same. Then a few days ago I went into the African bookstore just 2 blocks away. The owner is an older man from the Ivory Coast, and we spoke one other time when he invited me to come back on the Sunday of that week. Now that was a solid 4 weeks ago, but when I walked in, he knew me, even though he couldn't remember my name, and said he was looking for me that Sunday when I never showed up. Little did I think my presence--or lack thereof--would even be noticed! He helped me choose two books for my friend Molly....pointed out several events--author speakings, discussions, etc. that would be going on. Then he poured me a glass of fresh hibiscus juice. It was as thick as apple cider and a dark purple-red color. And it was delicious. He said another Ivorienne imported all kinds of fresh plants and fruits from Africa, and she made the juices. He then had me try a juice made just from ginger, lemon, and a little sugar. We spoke some more about literature and then I paid for my books (on which he gave me a discount), and he wished me a good day and said he hoped I'd come in the evening some week to hang out at the tables where people convene for coffee, juice and discussion. And then today I went to a store just down the street that carries everything imported from India. I bought a small end table from them over a year ago, a glass-paneled kitchen cabinet, and some Christmas presents. The guy who works there has always delivered my things, and we've talked about the time he spent in Martinique, India, and my studies. The last two times I've walked out of there not only with discounts on my purchases but also with packets of incense, little wooden boxes, or anything else he sees to give me. So today I went in to find a coffee table that will also serve for eating on (currently I sit on the floor and eat on my lap, but since rearranging my apartment, I now have more than enough room for a decent sized table to eat on by sitting on cushions on the floor). I told him what I wanted and he told me he had something to show me if I could wait 5 minutes. He ended up taking me to another nearby store (these are all located in one of the "galleries", the beautiful, old, original/first "malls" of covered shops in Paris) to show me the first table. It was great...but he said I had to see the second. So we went through a completely second jewelry store, through a door, and downstairs into a basement storage room. There he uncovered an old, turquoise blue table that was the perfect size. It had heavy layers of wax coating on it, slightly altering the color, so he got a bucket of warm soapy water and scrubbed away the wax on one corner to show me the layers of brown, green, and turquoise that reveal the true nature of the table. Another guy was down there, and all three of us were squatting around this table talking about it....and he told me the price, altered it....and then said I could come back when he was finished working (I have to leave in 30 minutes, in fact!!) and he'll help me carry it back to my apartment. When he took down my mobile number just in case it wouldn't be ready, he even knew my name.
It didn't take long to stop feeling like a foreigner here. The second night back, I got together with all the girls in the café...saw all the guys....and since then we've all hung out numerous times...planned and celebrated our friend Laetitia's 30th birthday last night....I have another birthday party tonight, and then all the girls are coming to my apartment on Saturday night for "cocktails" and then dinner in my neighborhood. But besides my friends, who always remind me that I do belong, it's nice to know there are others who I wouldn't even expect to make my neighborhood so very much mon quartier. Even this evening, when I passed the peep show again, the guy not only said hello, but mentioned that I had been gone for a long time. 15 days? 3 weeks? He's observant. So we chatted about Christmas and what I'm doing in Paris...and then wished each other good evenings. On this street, it certainly can't hurt to have him in my corner!
No comments:
Post a Comment