London to Paris
19:01 London St. Pancras--Paris 22:30
I've noticed a reluctance to finish this little series of journey write-ups. I took this trip on Saturday night. After a lovely slow day in the bosom of Philip Lane where, in spite of my room being occupied by my sub-leasee, I felt at ease. Welcome. Oodles of room. Being relatively new to this house sharing business, the kindness always surprises me - that people who are largely unobliged to each other can share food, an ear, make space for others' needs. When you're lucky with housemates, it seems one of the best ways to live.
To Paris. A morning at Bastille market with a Peruvian I met on couchsurfing and an ill-fated quest to find chouquettes and freshly squeezed orange juice ('this market has changed', she said). The central boulevard, with a somewhat sad looking fountain was the stage, later on, of some turf warfare - each corner was taken up by campaigners for the next mayor, of different party affiliations. Hard to imagine that happening without a dust up. Barely a whiff of animosity, but sartorially, the sides were plain to see.
I finally made it to Bois de Vincennes late morning. The way trees handle the winter and the kinds of people that use the park in winter, even that public signs are prime real estate for amateur drawings of willies... it all made me think I could have been anywhere. We really aren't that different, British and French, French and German, German and Hungarian.
I walked and walked on Sunday. Crossing the Seine from Bercy Park, I was stopped by a stranger who, for professional development reasons, had been tasked with hugging three strangers. We hugged as strangers then, awkwardly, and fifteen minutes later more warmly as people that had shared a moment on a windy bridge, wondering about the best way to connect with people, how to organise work effectively, how to grow, how to relate to place. The stranger asked why I was in Paris. To be alone, I said. To find my own pace. In Paris, I feel comfortable and curious. In Paris I can be by my own side for a while. À Paris je me transperce.
Onward now to the West Coast of the U.S. What awaits is twelve weeks based in one light-filled place and a bundle of treats - a seder, hotsprings, skiing, cycling, hiking, taxes!, a bachelorette in Marfa, a meeting of minds in Austin, maybe Big Sur. Who knows - maybe 'dispatches from the past' (we're eight hours behind GMT, y'know) will land in your inbox soon.