I KNOW. I know, I know I know IknowIknowIknow. Don't say it. I already know.
How in the monde could you not love Paris?!
Well, the answer is complicated.. it's you.
I don't love Paris because of you. Okay, not the "you" you but the collective, hypothetical, I'm-using-this-in-an-argument-and-it's-time-to-accept-the-metaphor-or-whatever you. The "you" that calls Paris,
The City of Love and Lights and the "you" that brings up only the ~pretty~ pictures of the Eiffel Tower (not the kind you take yourself and look like shit cause even if you have a nice camera who hasn't taken that same photo from that same spot behind the gated grass a million freakin' times!?!?) on the Google search and the same "you" that says the French really don't hold it against anyone for not speaking their language -- except that some of them do and when they do, they REALLY do and maybe don't serve you or just continue to give you a really French stank face while you eat their delicious food (yeah, the person who said this one, you're on my "You Suck" list).
Let me be clear ("For once!" you cry out). I don't
hate Paris. There are things to really, really admire and cherish about this city. For one, there are buildings. And they're old. And nice. And old. Yeah, I'm not getting better at this. Maybe I'm just a stuck-up American who can't appreciate fine things in life and maybe my idea of a beautiful city isn't one where I'm sweating constantly because I don't want the natives to think I'm American (which, hello! I'm sorry, but I am!). Which is why I'm writing about this -- about what to do when you find yourself inextricably
not in love with The City of Love (and Lights).
You do the following:
1)
Eat the hell out of this city. Seriously. Do it. If there's one thing Paris has going on, it's cuisine. The cheeses, wines, eggs, crepes, breads, desserts, coffee, etc. It's all amazing. Hell, even their butter is amazing. And I, who have never really enjoyed butter, found myself at 3 AM eating the butter OUT OF THE CARTON (sorry to my roommate, Diana. I couldn't help myself!). Maybe it was my menopause but maybe it was just that the food is so unfairly delicious that I could not stop eating it. Julia Child, we have something in common after all.
2)
Don't let anyone tell you what to do here. This was my biggest mistake. I kept asking people who had been (even some who hadn't) what I should be doing while I'm in Paris. Literally, I have the longest list in the world and half of it sounds ass-backwards boring. I'm sorry, but it does. The truth here is that being in Europe -- or really, anywhere you don't already live -- comes with a lot of pressure. It means that you need to
explore and
see things and
do things and
never be in one place for more than five minutes because you might miss something. Who wants to come to a city to race around and never stop and appreciate what you're racing through? Not me. And I had to learn this the hard way. Do yourself a favor: do whatever you want to do and have no regrets about it. This is YOUR trip. Do what you want.
3)
Sleep. Jet lag sucks. Get some rest before you get anything else done. Or you might die. Enough said.
4)
If you don't speak French, speak whatever you know how to speak. This is a tough (and possibly controversial one). Look, I understand speaking the language in a country with a national language (I'm looking at you, America) is respectful. But what if you took Spanish in high school or have a really hard time learning a new language? Should you never visit Paris? No. You should. But don't come here and police yourself every single time you trip over your
Merci's and
Au revoir's. You are going to mess up somewhere. Accept it and speak what you know, then move back into familiar territory. I promise, loosening up will save you days of stress and frees you up to enjoy what you're here for: the food, the sights, and the people. But mostly the food.
5)
Do something alone. I think this one is the most important thing you can do for yourself. I'm going to be the first to say it: traveling in groups can be the suck. You constantly feel you have to be "on" (lest anyone begin to inquire, "What's wrong? You're so quiet!"), there is never a decision completely within your control, and then there's the occasional desire to, you know, just
look at something or eat something without being prodded to comment on it.
Yes, Paris has beautiful architecture but can't we just 
appreciate it without having a 20-minute conversation on how beautiful the architecture in Paris is!? But here's the thing: Go out and do something. Find an empty bench. Discover a tiny, hole-in-the-wall brasserie that serves things you can't pronounce. Take three hours to drink a tiny cup of espresso. Whatever you do, find a moment -- a glimpse at the vibrant life here that the postcards and movies haven't already cliched into oblivion. Find this moment, this little picture that belongs only to you. And never tell anyone about it. Ever. Because it's yours. It's your own personal postcard of Paris that you'll never send to anyone except yourself. It is your version of the French capital that will crack an unexpected but totally deserved smile when people ask you how was Paris. It is the reason you came here in the first place, to The City of Love and Lights. It is what you do when you don't love Paris, but find one stupid little reason to really, really like it anyway.
-- Matthew Cruz
Sincerely,
This is front row at Shakespeare and Co. Jack Hirschman and Sylvia Whitman looking for something, man. Jack gave an inspirational reading of his poetry, he is RADICAL!
I spend my weekends skateboarding at Dôme, which is the Tokyo Museum, with my new friend Hugo. He likes to practice speaking English with me, and I try to learn French from him...not working out so well.
This is a picture from an evening spent on the Pont Des Arts Bridge over the Seine River. This is where winos come to hang out and lovers put locks on the fence to show their love for one another. I also gave a rose to a beautiful Parisian girl and it went swell, but I have yet to hear from her...
Oscar Wilde has many red lipstick wearing lovers...it doesn't really make sense, but I'm sure he would appreciate the love.
Seriously? Can you?
This past Monday 5/23 our class went to Culture Rapide to take part in the weekly spoken word! It was a blast and a few of our class members spoke: ME, Andrew Ramirez, Corey Arterian, Lesley Wasserman, Diana Vaden, and Cecilia and Suzanne. We definitely will be back next week!
Group Photo!
Getting prepared to do some spoken word with my poet juice drank.
appreciate it without having a 20-minute conversation on how beautiful the architecture in Paris is!? But here's the thing: Go out and do something. Find an empty bench. Discover a tiny, hole-in-the-wall brasserie that serves things you can't pronounce. Take three hours to drink a tiny cup of espresso. Whatever you do, find a moment -- a glimpse at the vibrant life here that the postcards and movies haven't already cliched into oblivion. Find this moment, this little picture that belongs only to you. And never tell anyone about it. Ever. Because it's yours. It's your own personal postcard of Paris that you'll never send to anyone except yourself. It is your version of the French capital that will crack an unexpected but totally deserved smile when people ask you how was Paris. It is the reason you came here in the first place, to The City of Love and Lights. It is what you do when you don't love Paris, but find one stupid little reason to really, really like it anyway.