When "France" is mentioned, the imagery conjured are of fashion, food, wine... all the good things in life. Yet when for 3 years I lived in a neighbouring country seemingly at the most opportune time of my life to visit, I never did. Why? I can't say exactly. But I suspect it was because I didn't want to be disappointed. Back in those days as a student, everyone traveled back and forth along to the rhythm of our terms and breaks. And those who came back from the France, almost never had good things to say.
"Paris" they would say "is so dirty. It smells. Pickpockets are everywhere. The French are so snobbish."
Words like these pushed it out of the list of countries I did want to visit. However, once I left the continent and the carefree student life behind, I realised life is not so easy. Earning my own money is hard and spending it even harder. How would I ever pay for a ticket to go back to Europe when there are a million other things I need or want? Maybe, just maybe I should have crowd out those negative words, tuck up my pants and went to take a look when I had my chance.
Fast forward 2 years into working life, I find myself working in a European city for 3 months - a golden ticket as an in road back into this age old continent. When a 1 week break approached, I grabbed my chance tightly with both hands and flew into the country that sat at the back of my mind for all the days of those 2 years.
It was at the end of October and the beginning of November that I spent 7 wonderful days. I kept my expectations low and reminding myself of all the bad that could happen. But, I was blown away. I was blessed with 7 good days of sunshine, blue skies and perfect weather - the kind that makes you want to walk around for hours just looking up at the beautiful architecture and admiring the beautiful blues that painted the ceiling of our earth. Paris and it's blase yet dynamic energy coupled with rich history evident in its buildings, its food, its culture... presents and intoxicating city you feel like you never want to leave. And as I watch the Eiffel Tower light up and sparkle against the stark nice sky, green tea eclair and sweet plum wine in hand, I get it why they call this city "the City of Lights". In my head, I can only think that this is exactly how life should be at this moment in time. In this intrinsically romantic place, it is buzzing with life and a million things to see, to do, to eat. I left with a heavy feet into the train, hours after a trip to at Forum Des Halles and a bomb swatch team member yelled out "Lady, put the shoe down and evacuate this building". It was just precaution and no harm incurred, just an exciting memory of sorts for me to keep in my mind.
As the train departed the city, I wondered how another city can match the dynamism present in all of Paris? I accepted that the peak of my trip had been reached and it will slowly subdue proportionately with the distance the train trailed away from Paris. But then we pulled into the medieval town of Bordeaux, a charming city built on cobblestone roads and dark stones. Narrow streets and old windows, out of the richness of wine and trade. I imagined life here in the days gone past and once again the butterflies in my stomach awoke. Bordeaux is sweet and heady just like it's wine. It comes alive when the sun goes down, a quiet warm sort of fire that burns on good food, good company, and good wine. The chateaus outside the city that produces the finest wines in all the world attracts people to come to this city to live life, to stroll home after a lengthy un-rushed, delicious meal over heart-to-heart conversations. All the things I love.
I hate to say I love it - I feel like I throw this word around too loosely. "I love Moscow. I love Durham. I love Florence, and Italy, especially the coastal towns of the Cinque Terre..." what don't I love? But I do. And maybe it was the weather, maybe I was lucky, but I felt so much warmth emanate from the French. Like the rose coloured wine I had in Bordeaux, or the French girl at the shoe shop, the way goats cheese melted against the crunch of toasted bread... I love France.
As I leave the aerial territory of France, I think back to those times I thought I should have visited as a student. But turns out this was better. I don't walk around with the carefree attitude of a student anymore, instead, I carry a work phone which buzzes me into anxiety with every text that I get. I don't, and can't, run too far away from my responsibilities nowadays. But I am also independent, confident, and I have also earned my right and payed my time to be here and not by virtue of someone else's hard work (i.e. my dad). The fact that it is so much farther out of reach, also makes me cherish each breath I take on French soil even more.
In much the same way Italy seduces me, France seems to harbour the same amount of love to life. Like two sisters with the same blood but opposite personalities, Italy the chaotic unorganised-organised mess; France, the calmer more sophisticated character - all I know is this is a country I want to come back to. Hopefully with all my loved ones to share in its valour and its beauty.
