Moments in Paris

My first time in Paris was three Januarys ago.  I rarely spent time looking for a monument, favoring forward glances toward the sidewalk, in search for the merde I'd already come in contact with.  My downward eyes and my nil-knowledge of anything Parisian meant I was often startled.

An old man, in beret, playing petanque: Te veux que je prends ton photo mademoiselle?
Me: uhh...(keeping my eyes down, don't talk to strangers) pardon?
Old man: You vant zat I take your photo?
Me: uhh... No.  Merci. 

Half a dozen paces onward, I look up.  This portion of the path seems clean enough, though it is dirt.  Honestly, what's with this dirt park.  Don't they believe in grass here?  Through dense fog, I sense something looming ahead.  Ohhh, that's what the old man, (viel homme?) was going on about.  The Eiffel Tower, I'd stumbled upon it.

 

This happened half a dozen times.  I scorned a map that first week, consequently wondering at the length of the queue in front of a long tan building (The Louvre), marveling at the glass work of an old gare (Musée d'Orsay), questioning the building that appeared to be inside out (The Pompidou).

I had no plans.  I had nothing to do.  Just wandering, learning from the city, not from any guidebook.  I really did know nothing of Paris, my courses had always focused on Francophone Africa, not the Metropole.  Since that first trip, I've visited, lived, and loved in this city.  

I visited around, for a seperated two weeks, staying with a friend's aunt at the end of the 8 line, past the Decatholon, on Rue Jeanne d'Arc.  I've lived at République and in Boulogne-Billancourt.  I've loved both the city and a person there.

These are the Paris moments I want to remember.  Not the dark, the anger, the loneliness, spread across the past years, not how leaving feels, not the disillusion.

I want to be in the seconds, facing Les Invalides paying for my first Nutella crepe, biting into the warm creation.  I want to be in the same place a year later, falling in love, as my friend throws me over his shoulder.  My fists pound his back, laughter ripples over us both.