Paris, j'taime

I have fallen in love with the City of Lights. The present capital of the European Union, its centerpiece the Eiffel Tower dressed at night in blue, is one of the most beautiful and romantic places I have ever been.

Everywhere you look, on nearly every street corner there is a vision of history and art. I have already stayed two days longer than expected. I missed my train to Agen this morning partly because I overslept, but partly because I have made some friends and want to linger.

Something keeps me in this city. As I booked yet another night at my hostel in le Republique this morning, the girl at the front desk said that perhaps I am supposed to be here.

With Paris however, it wasn't quite love at first sight.

My first night in an uncomfortable hostel left me disoriented and nervous walking around the city alone. On my first day, I climbed the steps in Montmartre up to Sacre Couer to get a panoramic view. The vastness of the city was overwhelming.

Walking alone through the city is a bittersweet experience. Everywhere it seems couples fawn over one another, touching hands and exchanging tender caresses. Those first few days, it felt quite lonely.

Then on Tuesday I walked into Notre Dame to sit alone in the dark and gather some courage. Tourists walked the perimeter snapping photos in the hushed cathedral. In the pews, several people their heads buried in their hands, prayed for mercy and forgiveness. I'm not really religious at all, but the place stirred something within me. I lit a candle and asked for safe travels and some ease for my heavy heart. I also asked for some companionship.

When I left, a weight had lifted. And very soon I made some friends.

That night I went out to a bar near my hostel just to have a drink and write in my journal. Sitting at a table on the street, a young Romanian man and his hoodie-wearing friend came up and started to heckle me. It wasn't threatening but it was annoying. The ponytailed Romanian professed to me his endless devotion. I told him that it would really piss me off if, when I wasn't looking, my new love ran off with my camera.

Eventually the bartender saw what was going on and got the two men away. I think he liked me and was looking out for me because I gave him a one Euro tip. (I had yet to learn that you don't tip at all in France). Several middle age French men and two German girls who witnessed the exchange invited me over for a drink. All except for one were very nice and quite interested in my plans for travel. The one however told me I talked too loud, "a typical American." Well, he was a typical pompous French guy, I thought.

But one man, a French film actor named Marc Duret bought me a beer and talked about his experiences working the states. He had just that night come from the premier of his new film Commes les Autres and was sipping champagne in celebration. I thought the film was some small Indy-type project. But the next day, everywhere I looked were posters for the film. And in the post office on TV there was a preview for the film and my friend appeared before me and the rest of the country. It was a brush with celebrity and I didn't even realize it.

The next day I went to the Catacombs with my roomate in the hostel, a Welsh girl named Sarah. Deep beneath the streets among the bones of six million Parisiens we made another friend, Piotr from Poland. He took a picture of Sarah and me grinning next to a pile of skulls and femurs stacked like wood. Afterward, he joined us on a stroll along the Seine and a visit to the Eiffel Tower. He is finishing up six months of study in Paris and plans to travel himself, perhaps to India. Perhaps we will meet again.

I also met an Australian named Rob who now lives in London. We spent most of today running together to train and bus stations to book our tickets in seperate directions. It maybe wasn't the most romantic of afternoons, but we got along well and he's promised me a place to stay and a grand tour if ever I should come to London.

One of the most surprising things I've learned is how nice and helpful the Parisiens are. Last night Sarah, Rob and I spent a night out on the town and lost track of time before realizing the Metro had closed and there were no taxis around. We were kind of lost and quite far from the hostel when we flagged down a bus. The driver gave us a free lift home.

Several times I've found myself standing on a street corner with a map and people actually have come up to me to help me get where I'm going. And even when someone doesn't speak English and I at least attempt French in my pitiful, bumbling way, we can hold silly, disjointed conversations.

I've so much more to share and photos to post soon. Ahhhhhh Paris. J'taime.