Une Petite Histoire

         I'd like to tell you a story, with lack of words and perhaps a lack of story. I want you to interpret this as you will.

Love Letter From Paris

oh how to start such a journey. how to begin the road into great detail, the feelings, the sights, the tastes, the smell. the beautiful thing is that there is no beginning, just for myself. this world, let alone this city has been transforming for years without me, and now here I am expecting it to help me do the same. 

as i sit here in this modernized 17 or 18th century apartment with my perfectly baked baguette, still ripe from this morning, and my brie in which in the states I would pay more than 6 dollars for was only 1.50 euro. And with my mini sauccisson, and my trente paquette de cigarettes avec une petite verre de rose vin, I will try to describe to you what it really has been like to be in Paris for the last two days. 

My first day that I have arrived, i think i might have told you but I was in tears. 

Here I am after two days in New York galavanting the streets, wandering into random bars and chatting up locals between 20 degree weather and heavy rain, I slept only a tiny bit before my plane to Madrid out of pure excitement. The plane left 7 pm New York time and landed 8 am Madrid time. I had, again, no sleep in my isle seat, american teenagers bursting with the joy of drinking overseas, a spanish couple in front of me that couldn't keep their hands off of each other, and two women beside me speaking spanish until their little heads fell asleep on one anothers shoulders. I watched 3 movies until the sun had risen and we had reached madrid. I accidentally left a few things behind, I couldn't wait to get off of the plane. 

When we all were finally let out of the cage I had to run to find Air France to make sure that my baggage will make it to Paris. No one spoke english and if they did they refused to use it.

"excuse me, do you know where Air France is?"

"salga le scale, prenda una destra, scenda il corridoio e lo vederete sulla vostra sinistra"

Depending on where they pointed I went into the direction and asked upon another person for help. I kept doing this until I found Air France about 30 minutes later. Of course with my luck, after running around and standing in line, my baggage had made it safely on the plane to france with out my having to make sure. 

I ran through security and to my gate, heavy luggage by this time had weighed me down, made me slower, more tired (especially with no sleep) and gave me blisters on each hand from trying out a new hand every two minutes. When I had boarded the plane to France the stewardess that greets you as you enter the plane gave her good wishes "bonjour, bonjournee, bonjour, ello, bonjour" I came on with my 1960's light blue suitcase "bonjour- ah! tres jolie luggage mademoiselle" 

I smiled, gratified, i could no longer feel the blisters, I had literally been dressing the part for france since before I had left San Francisco. "merci beaucoup"  

The fight was short, everyone on the plane had slept but me. I was finally in a window seat watching the salt fields and plains whizz by. We passed the French Apls, the rising sun and the snow combined made my eyes tear up and I tried to rest. All of a sudden we were landing. 

Vivi couldn't meet me this day, since my plane was delayed so Myrium was to pick me up. Although I couldn't find her anywhere. I called her and she didn't pick up, i called Vivi and before i could tell her all of the information of where I was the call had been dropped because 2 euros doesn't buy you more than a minute on the telephone at the airport. 

I exchanged the bit of american money I had left. 17 dollars- they were going to give me 8 euro. I explained that I needed at least 10 for a phone card and the man somehow felt my pain and silently gave me the ten euro. Again, with my luck the phone card machine was out of order. I exchanged my bills for coins to use the pay phone again. I trid myrium two more times and lost 4 euro without any outcome. I walked around gate 2F where I was to meet her for about an hour and a half. 

I sat in the waiting area. the whole plane ride I had been practicing my french for after i get off the plane "je besoin une douche et dormir" I forgot exactly how to say it, or that I was going to say it at all as Myrium came hustling to my side "i'm so sorry! We could not find where to go and went in-to circles" I could never get angry at someone, no matter what ,when they speak to me so grammatically correct in english with that thick french accent. I whiped away my tears and gave her a hug as if I had been trapped in solitude for many years. 

We got my heavy luggage loaded into the car, she asked me what I wanted to do and in english I told her I would like to take a shower. we went to her house in Villiers. We had to climb the ton of bricks I had brought up the stairs 5 flights to her apartment. Inside it was nice, small, slanted ceilings, the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom, the bath were all practically one room, the toilet being in the other. 

She gave me a towel and told me that she and her friend ,who had helped with my luggage from the airport, would no look. They began to talk amongst themselves in French that I could not yet understand. Since my sweater was so big and bulky I took my pants off first, then climbed into the bath tub to take off my shirt and sweater. There was no way I could figure out the bath to shower situation without help, and now naked in the bath I decided to go with it. 

Myrium played the piano and sang as I soaped my limp body and threw handfuls of water over my shoulder none of which could reach the middle of my back. I felt like I was in an impressionist painting sitting in the corner of the louvre, piano in the background, little bits of mumbling and chucking. I was finally in France. The France I had imagined. 

Apres cette, I fell asleep in Myriums bed under a sunroof just as the sun was setting, it was silent expect for the birds who sang me to sleep. 

I woke up a few hours later to Vivi's voice and brought myself back to life. It was so good to see her again but both of us were tired and ready to climb into bed, another bed for myself. We came back to her place just outside of Paris in Issy les Moulineaux. 

There are many pizza places in the area. I dunno, I was surprised by that. Her apartment is just next to one. I saw her raise her finger towards the street and before she could say anything I had told her that that is where she lived. Of course she knew, but I had to admit that I had looked at her place on google maps more than one time.  

The door to the apartment building is one of my favorite French little technologies, with the handle in the middle, a lock that from the inside you pull to your left to unhinge rather than turning a knob. Inside the doors, the entry way and the walls are red, bright red. The smell, another french delicacy. Ancient smelling,damp, cold, lives lived in this building. The steps, yet another thing I love about Europe in general, the edges of each step worn down from the years of walking up and down them. The same thing at Myriums 5 story winding staircase. 

I love memories, I love history, I love souvenirs especially the kind that have dissipated, the ones that you replace with your imagination. I pictured children running up and down the steps, winter time yelling "maman, maman, regard! Le neige!"  or a love for lust couple in the 1920's drunk from pernod and sexual wispers in each other's ears stumbling up the stairs to play them out. I think of a woman, lives alone with a small dog that could hardly make it up each stair by himself, but with all of the time in the world the woman waits for him to scurry up each step after their daily walk through Port de Versailles. I can see an old man, one who hates everyone in the building, he lives at the top and only leaves the house to pick up a baguette in exchange for his poor judgement of the world. 

Vivi opens the door to the apartment and it is a bit larger than Myrium's. There are doors and rooms, a kitchen of it's own, a living room of it's own, another door, and two whole more rooms of it's own, and to my romantic impressionists surprise a bathtub with  room to share with the toilet…all of it's own. For some reason I had expected every young person's apartment to be smaller than a New York studio. 

We didn't talk for very long, but we did over tea and I had a beer to help fall back asleep. The next morning I woke up at 10, talked to you and then had coffee with Vivi in the kitchen. She sat perched on a step stool reading, getting ready for her exams in 2 hours. We talked about our plans for the day and the night and when we would meet again. When she left I again tried to take a shower but couldn't figure it out for the life of me, I knew when Vivi would show me it would be the most obvious thing in the world but I just couldn't get there. 

So, I took a bath. Something I also love about these old apartments are the sounds they make. Every time you turn on the hot water, the heater boils on. The same happened during my bath, and maybe for some it would be annoying but it was soothing for me to listen to, like mozart or bach in a sunny afternoon park. 

After I wrote you. And then left the apartment to meet with Myrium at her house. I felt very parisian knowing exactly which metro to take, what sortie meant, and just where to go after leaving the metro to go to her house. Myrium was still getting ready even at 3 almost 4 in the afternoon. I watched her straighten her hair as I smoked american fortunas on her bed. 

She likes to talk about California, the people I lived with, the people I used to live with and the people who are now living with the people i used to live with. All of the conversation I had hoped to leave behind in California. She couldn't stop telling me things I didn't want to hear about and showing me things I didn't want to see. But I wasn't going to tell her. How horrible it would be if I was so excited to tell someone about my adventures in France and all they had to say was they didn't want to hear it. So I listened and tried to sound enthusiastic when I gave a faux wow-that's-awesome or nice! 

At last she had been distracted with phone calls, who would meet us where and what time. Myrium is usually, if you couldn't tell, on the late side so we left a bit later than we should have. Parisians I find are a bit lazy when it comes to transportation. They don't realize how easy they really have it. A metro system that has a train coming every 2 minutes at every station and goes at the speed of light to the next. She complained about the amount of time it was taking even though it had only been 4 minutes that we were on the first train and only waiting about 30 seconds for it in the first place. Back home I remember getting excited when a bart train was coming in under ten minutes and pretty excited when it was coming under 15, and after that stoked that it only took half an hour to get to the other side of the bridge. These Parisians have no idea!

We made it to our station before that last paragraph was over. Myrium lead me up the hill to god knows where, only her phone was telling her, even though she had been before. On our way, again we had an opportunity to talk about California only except this time I didn't mind. It was only about Danny and ricchelle and I could care less about their relationship since it doesn't effect me in the least bit, besides the fact that I am now staying with Vivi. 

Myrium was pushing information out of me, seeing if Danny had told Vivi about Ricchelle yet. I told her what I knew and started to worry about Vivi mostly because Myrium had made it seem like she could be bottling something up. But I didn't want to open up a can of worms that I didn't quite yet know how to contain. She told me that she would talk to Vivi herself this night. Myrium also loves drama. 

The streets that we were climbing began to get curdled with graffiti and random trash, glass and people with places to go. I was thinking about how many people before I left thought of France and Paris as this pristine place, clean, undisturbed, perfect, magnifique! And how many times I tried to tell them that it is a place just like any other. 

Almost every person I look at, tall, short, fat, skinny, old, young, black, white, asian, or undeterminable to my knowledge, I expected them to start speaking english. I guess because they just looked like people that I knew from home, wearing the same kinds of clothes, playing the same kind of roles and exemplifying the type of person that they are or would like to be. I couldn't stop thinking about how similar everyone in the world really is. how, yes as individuals we are all different, but as groups, we are all the same. 

We made it to the cafe where Myrium and Seb would be playing. It was tiny. Myrium said it was small but I should have known her english was limited because it was tiny! About the size of our last room together with a bar and a four tables inside. They pushed a table to the side to make way for what they could clear as a stage. 

Myrium bought us a couple of beers and sat us at a table outside to wait for the others to arrive. I saw a man, a boy, I dunno and in-between a man and a boy, walk down towards us with a mild and thinning mohawk. I made fun of him to Myrium until she smiled, stood up and kissed his cheeks. I was praying that he hadn't heard me as I stood up to do the same "enchante, je suis Elektra" 

"bonjour"

He and Myrium talked until a couple had arrived. They had just been talking about how much they hate the girl of this couple and I felt bad for her when she sat at the same table, welcomed, yet unbeknownst of what had just been said about her. I kissed the couple on each cheek, as tradition had told me to after introduced again as the American. They tried to speak in english but I would tell them that it was okay, I had to learn French. The man asked me what I was doing here. I thought it to be a funny question. What am i doing here? Well, I am seeing if I would like to live here. I don't think that was enough information for them. The french I think need some sort of linear plan. 

Another friend arrived, another set of kisses another introduction as the american, another attempt at english and another question of what i was doing here. This happened many more times until it got to the point where the group was so large that I got lost in it. No more kisses, no more being the american, no more english, no more questions. 

I hadn't seen Vivi in a while, she was to show up right at 8 but it was now 8 and a half. People asked me where she was in French luckily I know how to say 'je ne sais pas' quite well and eloquent in french. 

With one or two more drinks in me I was opening up the vocabulary book i had stashed away and dusty in the back on my head. I started to remember things I didn't think I knew in the first place, and then thankfully Vivi showed up. 

I was introduced some more to friends of hers, kisses, american, english, what am i doing here? this time Vivi laughed with me at this question since I think she knew the difference. She explained to her friend that in America it is more courtousy and welcoming to ask "how is your trip so far?" or "how long are you here?" and not so much like a customs officer- what are you doing here?

The night went on, myrium, seb and another friend of theirs played covers of french songs. The other friend of theirs was the only one when introduced that had said "ah- I've heard a lot about you from Marius!" There were kisses, but at least I got to skip the other shit. 

After many joints we left to go back to the apartment. I was tired and happy to go home. I couldn't help it but i was exhausted from trying to remember French and thinking vividly about you. I couldn't wait to get back to talk to you. I had been seeing couples every where I had went, holding each other, making out, holding hands, groping, laying on each other's shoulders, turning one back around with a whip of the hand to their arm to grab a kiss. I had realized all day that I was in the most romantic city in the world without you. 

When we had made it home I wasn't tired anymore from the brisk walk we had taken back to the apartment. We were back to the ancient smell, the middle knobs, the bursting sounds of flame whenever a sink was turned on. I wanted to show this all to you immediately. I didn't want to wait 4 months at all. Vivi went right to bed after a cigarette and I tried to drink a beer, watch tv and fall asleep but all I could do was watch the clock and wait for 6-6:30 your time for whenever you would be getting out of work. I called, e-mailed, facetimed twice. I just felt so alone in this moment. 

What was I doing here?

I thought of all the things I wanted to tell you but they all evaporated the moment I heard your voice. All I wanted was your words to sliver through the telephone and turn into arms spooning me to sleep. But as you know, the conversation somehow turned into an ice box that I had to find some way to keep warm in to fall asleep. You ended it abruptly just as abrupt as every other conversation in the evening had ended when my knowledge of French had come to a halt. 

You left and I stayed. I cried some more and watched forensic files in french. Normally it would freak me out before bed but it was comforting to hear a american southern woman's voice over dubbed by a chic french woman's voice. I knew it was no where close to me that any of this had taken place. I turned the tv off, turned one of the lights off and tossed and turned myself to sleep. 

This morning I woke up at 1, so i guess that really isn't morning. Vivi woke up at the same time. We took showers, got ready for a pique-nique in the park by cite universite. 

On the tramway an old man had commented on my budweiser shirt, he said they used to be a czech company and then went on to tell us about how he had been born in austria and moved to france in 1938 and how he and his family had suffered interment camp during the second world war. I had tried telling people back home the horrifying features of France, and now it was here telling me. I hand't even thought about this. 

All of these old people Myrium had been making fun of in her quarter could very well have been in the same place, in the same situation. I had immediately viewed France in a completely new light. We got off the tram after this story and were silent for a moment until we reached the park. It was as full as dolores park on a sunny saturday afternoon. We had found a place to sit, and just as you told me to do I opened up to Vivi about my troubles with opening up to you. 

The same expression came out, just as it does from an american girl or probably any other girl in the world- " men just don't understand the heartaches a woman goes through" 

So simple. But it felt good to know that even though I am here in france and i'm supposed to feel elated, on top of the world that inside of me something is curling up into a ball and crying for help. And that it's normal due to the fact that I am just a mere human. 

The conversation left our brains as we went on to talk about the projects we would like to work on and what we plan to do with 'whatever, dude'. We talked about the couple behind Vivi who looked like they were ready to rip each others clothes off, the man behind me who was creepily staring at us and how beautiful the day was until the sun started to set and we left to grab the tram back home. 

Due to 'the pollution of paris' the metro had been free the last few days so they have been packed. Vivi said "no, we are getting on this train" and we pushed our way on as if we were old asian women on the 28 with bags of fish. I had never been so close to strangers before. A man and a woman were so close you would think they were in love, yet they had no idea who the other one was. 

I started to think about the man, the old man that had talked to us about his family's capture during the 1940's. Here I am in a perfect scenario with just one obstacle and it already felt horrible. I tried to stay away from the imagery that might have been haunting his mind. Suddenly we made it to our station, breathed in the fresh air and lit a cigarette. 

Vivi had to go meet with her aunt so for the last 2 hours I have been writing this letter. And that's where I am now. This is what I am doing in Paris. 

I love you, and I miss you terribly. I hope you're having a good day and perhaps we can talk later, but I don't think I will call until you do (you can facetime me when i have wifi too). Until you want to talk to me. I don't want to bother you with my nonsense of how much I miss you, so I guess I will continue to keep writing these letters. Hopefully you find them entertaining enough. 

With all of my love,

Elektra Johnson