4 March, 2008 | Leave a Comment
sunset in the tuileries
It’s been more than a week since I’ve posted anything! How very strange. I had such a marvelous time in Paris — and more importantly, a very productive time creatively — that since I’ve been back I’ve been reading a lot and working on my novel and haven’t had time for much else (besides the teaching). I’ve been feeling a bit happier and it’s always harder for me to blog when I feel happy. I was also too lazy to go through all the photos I had taken (which is a ton of work) and I can’t do a travel post without photos. But now I finally have my act together.
My trip to Paris was last-minute, but I went because I had this feeling in my gut that I needed to get away. I just felt in my bones that I’d benefit from three days away from work, home and my daily routine, where I could be alone and empty my mind of the banal, instead just focusing on art and writing and beauty. I felt this was what I needed, but as I left on the Eurostar I wasn’t entirely convinced anything positive would happen in Paris. After all, I had been creatively dead for two months, since before Christmas. In January and February I often go into a funk. It’s not something I can control — it’s a chemical reaction to the lack of sunshine. I’ve always been susceptible to this, but I’ve noticed it’s been worse since moving to London, where the winter days are much shorter than what I’ve experienced before. Before next winter rolls around, I must take steps to minimize the effect of this.
Unlike some writers, I cannot write when I’m feeling down. I also cannot read anything serious or literary. It’s like the literary part of my brain shuts down. As you might imagine, this is really quite torturous. Not only that, but now that my novel is part of my PhD, I have deadlines hanging over my head, which produces a lot of angst when I’m not writing.
The trip did not start off promisingly. On Eurostar, I was seated at a table with two Chinese men and before the train even left the station, they began conversing in their native language at a decibel one might normally use during a fireworks display or three-alarm fire. Each word they uttered was like a hammer blow to the head. It was only 6:30 a.m., after all. To make matters worse, I know they were talking about me. [They seemed pissed off I was sitting with them.] I knew I wouldn’t survive the journey sitting there, so I fled and found a carriage that was nearly empty. I plopped in a seat and promptly fell asleep. [Speaking of Eurostar horrors, on the journey home someone in my carriage removed his or her shoes. We were then subjected to a horrible smell for the entire journey home. What is wrong with people?! Call me old-fashioned, but doesn't an international trip make one want to act with a bit of decorum and class? Is it really necessary to be a slob at all times?]
Eurostar is never pleasant, but I got to Paris, settled in and then went out for a walk. In my bag I had a print-out of the chapter I had been trying to work on since Christmas, plus a notebook. I was staying near the Champs-Elysées and so I began my day (it was still quite early) by walking down Paris’s grand boulevard. I thought about my chapter. I had certain paragraphs memorized and I kept repeating them in my head. Suddenly, words and images came to me and I could feel that I was about to start writing again. I’d only been in Paris for about an hour! Gee, that was quick.
I wrote in my head for a while (which I like to do) and then every so often I’d sit down on a bench and scribble out my thoughts. I continued this process — walking, then sitting on a bench to write. I was wandering all over a very ritzy section of Paris. Sometimes when I’d sit on a bench I’d read my work aloud. People stared — the kind of rich people whose faces are frozen with Botox — but I didn’t care. I was actually feeling inspired and I was writing for the first time in ages. I’ve never quite had a writing experience like that before, where I was able to write so much and make important edits while just walking down the street.
For the rest of the trip I wrote, I read, I watched sunsets — three sunsets — and just lost myself in Paris. I felt as if I was floating on air for much of the time. On Saturday and Sunday it was sunny and very pleasant. I desperately needed sunlight and Paris is just lighter than London, perhaps because the buildings aren’t as tall and there are more open spaces. London is so urban, whereas Paris is more genteel, more adapted for people who want to wander and forget about life’s problems. On Sunday the road along the Seine is closed and there were hordes of Parisians riding their bikes, rollerblading and having picnics on the riverbank. I wonder if this was the first day of good weather in a while, because I can’t remember the last time I saw Paris so utterly packed. In front of Notre Dame, there was well over 1,000 people — I’m not joking!
One day I went to a café and wrote 20 pages in my notebook. It just poured out. I stopped for tea quite often to read and write. Why don’t I do this at home? I spent three whole days walking. I didn’t visit a museum, but just walked, which is what I love to do. It was a fabulous weekend that put me back in a creative mindset again. And then on my last day of the trip I got the good news about the lawsuit. Going to Paris was just what I needed…must go back soon!
Here are a few photos from my wanderings:
a visit to St. Sulpice, one of my favorite churches
American goodies for sale in the Marais
continental breakfast
oeufs dur mayonnaise
poulet frites
chocolate mousse (so rich that only two bites gave me a searing headache)
another sunset in the Tuileries
Anglofille said @ 6:27 pm | paris life, personal |
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s. Says:
March 4th, 2008 at 8:05 pmYou know, a chapter of Nightwood takes place in St. Sulpice. Barnes et al frequented the square and the church. Catherine Deneuve is said to own the former artist studio (the one with the huge full length windows) right across from the church. I can only imagine how gorgeous the view is from the studio!
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I’m so happy to hear that you got your writing groove back. Paris is a great place to find one’s inspiration. I know what you mean about wandering the streets… I love getting ‘lost’ while walking.
