Perhaps I’ve been holding off writing about my Parisian year because of the sheer weight that the City of Lights holds over the American imagination. “We’ll always have Paris,” declares Humphrey Bogart to Ingrid Bergman. Quotes from Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast swamp the #paris feeds. Perhaps the only thing more basic is a pumpkin spice latte selfie in front of the Eiffel Tour.
Or maybe I’ve put it off because Paris has held such a spell over my own life. For a year in college I hung a poster of Audrey Hepburn’s famous utterance, “Paris is always a good idea,” in my room. Superimposed upon an aerial view from the Arc de Triomphe of course. I tried hard to hide my longing for the most cliched of European cities, but alas everyone knew and everyone congratulated me wholeheartedly when I finally got the chance to live the Parisian life this year as a masters student at Sciences Po. The beautiful dream came true and the mythical city became my every day reality. How can I do it written justice now?
To be honest, I don’t have much to add to my past experiences of Paris on the subject of Paris itself. My lasting impressions this time are less about the chic fashion and croissants, instead they have turned inwards. As with any dream of epic proportions, its luster fades once we transform the dream into our everyday, lived experience. Once you live within your dream, it will eventually cease to be your dream because, by definition, the dream has become your reality. And when that happened to me, I learned that no matter how much living in Paris inspires me, how many beautiful moments I encounter along its streets, I am left with my same core personality, tendencies, and flaws. I think it’s too much responsibility to give to any city the power to fundamentally change people.
Since college graduation, many people have jokingly asked me what I’m running away from, citing the trope of the 20-something girl traveling the world to escape heartbreak, boredom or something equally tragic. I’ve always waved them off because I’m not running away from anything like that — in my view I’m chasing a professional path in international development. I guess you could then ask me what is it that draws me to a career in which the boundaries between professional and personal life are blurred. People in development, at various scales of self-righteousness, are motivated to do their job because they believe it will make a positive difference in the world. That one is easy to understand. But people who work in international development also praise the heavens when they get a contract that lasts longer than one year. People in development are ready to drop everything and pack a suitcase with their entire life inside at a week’s notice. And that kind of lifestyle is unreasonably seductive to me, despite the predictable giant wrench it throws in your personal relationships. It is also, to a degree, irresponsible.
Do you know that sometimes it feels good to be completely lost and disoriented? I’ve always conceived of life as a series of uncontrollable events and situations emerging from chaos. I like it when life such conceived hits me full force. I feel most alive when I’m trying to reign in the chaos– this feeling is most viscerally experienced when I’m plopped into the heart of a new city, a new culture and new code of behaviour to decipher. The feeling of living in a parallel universe is delicious. When things are out of your control, you cannot to be blamed. I love it when decisions are made for me, when some life decisions are automatic. But it’s wrong to try and live your life perpetually in this way. Isn’t this running away from responsibility? Kundera’s heaviness?
I apologize that nothing is really said about Paris in this post. Did Paris make me somewhat fancier, more stylish, and snooty? I will have to say yes, at least in part, to all three. However, Paris represents to me a broader disillusionment of dreams bringing to light my flawed inner realities.