It’s been a year since I last wrote something here and I don’t know how to reboot this thing. So here’s a little something I wrote fresh off my dream trip to Paris in May last year. May or may not have been inspired by true events but mostly just me daydreaming. The illustration is very real though. Drawn on a lazy afternoon with an obstructed view of the Eiffel Tower from Carette where I had heaps of chantilly in my chocolat chaud and a slice of the most delicious pistachio cake. I have so many stories from that trip but I will need another minute. For now, a cute little story.
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I had always dreamed of going to Paris. Even as a little girl, I remember my aunts giggling with delight as I sang Frere Jacques in broken French. Dormez-vous, dormez-vous? I kept my hair in a short bob and microbangs ever since I watched Amelie. I had that film memorized start to finish, even detailing all of the places in Montmartre I would one day visit. Everyone I knew would give me Eiffel Tower trinkets and accoutrements on every single birthday. Every single one of which I had collected and kept in a small display case on my dresser. I was simply obsessed.
“Do you think they’ll need to see my Moulin Rouge ticket?” I called out to my mom, who was in the kitchen, steeping a pot of tea for us. “Do I just print out everything?” I was agonizing over my Shengen visa application. I had finally saved up enough money from my boring sales 9-to-5. I was finally going to Paris this year.
“Just include what you can from the itinerary you’re attaching to the application,” she says nonchalantly. “I don’t know why you’re just doing this now. Haven’t you had this trip planned for years?”
I ignore her dig. I just print out the ticket and add it to my growing dossier. My visa appointment was not until the first Saturday of February but here I was a full month before, stressing out if I had all of my documents ready. I made a mental note to pick up my bank certificate two weeks from now.
I had never gone on a holiday longer than a weekend. So this trip I had been planning for years was a big deal. I wanted it to be special. When I closed a deal that gave me enough commission to fund a year-long sabbatical, I knew it was time. My parents were thrilled for me. And I was excited for little old me singing nursery rhymes in broken French. She was finally going to see Sacre Coeur and have a bowl of beef bourguignon like Amelie.
I had crashed into the apartment straight from my flight—walking up four flights of stairs, two rounds just to carry all of my bags. I was too tired to shower but I knew I had to eat. Walked the block to see what was open and found myself sitting outside a brasserie half an hour later, wolfing down a plate of fries and a salad. It had asparagus and artichoke and I almost cried out from both exhaustion and happiness. I couldn’t believe it. I was really here.
“L’addition, s’il vous plaît,” I said with confidence. The waiter’s eyes crinkled before he burst out laughing. “D’accord,” he nodded. I couldn’t tell if he was amused that I knew how to speak the language or that he was making fun of my decidedly non-French accent. But I didn’t care. I was in Paris. Covered in 17 hours of airplane germs, yes, but here I was blending in with the locals. Or so I thought.
“Holiday?” a man seated at the bistro chair beside me asked.
“Can you tell from my unwashed hair?” I joked. “Yes, just landed.”
“Ahh,” he smiled. “Bienvenue à Paris. I hope you have a lovely time.” He was impeccably dressed in a navy suit, his chestnut hair falling in tender waves. He raised his glass to me before sipping the last of his red wine and waving goodbye.
“Au revoir,” I call out almost inaudibly. Was I really here?
The next morning, I found myself stumbling out of the bedroom just before seven. It was already light out. I opened the apartment windows to let the cool air in. It had been raining so the air felt damp. I shook the shivers in my shoulder and took out my laptop. What would you do on your first day in the city of lights?
I had booked myself tickets to go on the hop on hop off boat along the River Seine. I wanted to see all of the sights but I didn’t want to stress myself out figuring out the transportation. The skies had already cleared up and I knew I had made the right decision.
