I’m sitting in the Tuilleries Gardens
(Les Jardins du Tuilleries). There are a few too many wasps (Les guêpes) haunting the remnants of our picnic for my liking, as are the pigeons squabbling over the last of the luncheon baguettes.
It’s our first writing block. I am tempted to write this in French but I won’t. The language is coming easily. It’s good.
I’ve been asked the following questions:
- Who am I?
- What am I doing here?
- What do I want to get out of the next ten days?
Well, who am I? I’m Parisian Pandora. She is ballsy and cool. She gives zero fucks. She prefers speaking in French because of the way it feels in her mouth. She stands tall and strong. Despite the outward bolshiness, she is very kind. She likes to think of herself as a bit of enigma, but she is unsure why. She listens and processes. She has an unexpected irreverence. She is European despite what her passport says.
It feels strange to be talking about myself in the third person, but it needs to be done.
And what am I doing here?
Well, I’m on retreat. Retreating from my normal life. Retreating from perceptions of myself I appear to have outgrown. After a morning spent on the back of a motorbike riding pillion, feeling the air rush by as we navigated the city street, I contemplated the freedom this gave me.
Our guide, Dave, asked if I was happy.
‘I’ve had a bloke between my legs for the last two hours, how could I not be happy?’
I like being happy.
As for what I want to achieve over the next ten days? Other than speak as much French as possible and become immersed on all things French? And to continue to eat Steak Tartare regularly, because I am a literal vampire. (Raw steak- of course, I’m a Leo, red meat rules!)
But basically, all I want out of this ten days is to be and remain happy.
I may be between jobs, but for the moment I want to suck the marrow out of France. I think this is a good.
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