From Paris…with love

April 5, 2011 at 10:32 pm (Eu gandeste!, Idei/Pareri/Opinii) (, , , , , , , )

Alarma suna  si acelasi inconfundabil si tampit refren pe care imi zic in fiecare zi ca o sa il schimb, ma trezeste. Ma ridic din pat…9.30…nu, nu sunt in intarziere ci incep la 11 lucrul. Vi se pare putin? Ce ati zice despre belitul ochilor in calculator ore in sir, aproape fara pauza? Fac ce-mi place…ma pasioneaza in caz ca se intreba cineva.

Mananc in graba si imi pun cizmele in picioare, ai nevoie de o pereche trainica la Paris! Ies din casa si cand sunt in metrou imi aduc aminte ca mi-am uitat acasa mancarea, injur de 3 ori in gand si plec mai departe. In metrou sunt amortita complet, nu vad pe nimeni si nimic, nici macar vagabontul care urla de 5 minute la mine “Mademoiselle!”…scot castile din urechi si urlu la el :”mais quoi, putain!?!”… se retrage intimidat. Gena de parizianca isi face simtita prezenta din ce in ce mai mult. Pana sa apuc sa gandesc deja e tarziu si trebuie sa ma intorc acasa. Acasa…ce cuvant mare, acasa e in Romania…aici sunt in trecere…sau…? Din ce in ce mai des simt ca aici e acasa…”tre’ sa va spun pe cuvant, aici e cel mai frumos loc de pe pamant”. Poate ma credeti sau poate nu ma credeti dar chiar asa este.

De o luna imi traiesc visul cu ochii, locuiesc in Paris, pe ditai bulevardul intr-un superb apartament, jumatate de Turn Eiffel se vede de pe strada mea, turn pe care il detest ziua si de care ma indragostesc in fiecare seara cand e luminat. Ma plimb pe langa Sena si beau beri peste beri peste beri in Oberkampf. Nu am timp sa stau pentru ca e mereu ceva de facut, ceva de vazut, de mancat o portie zdravana de sushi la “barcuta” sau o seara cu prietenii sau pur si simplu sa stai intinsa la soare in Jardins de Luxembourg si sa citesti o carte buna. Sa dormi in fiecare duminica pana seara la ora 8 jumatate si sa faci nopti albe de chef dupa care sa mergi la servici.

Suna cliseic tot ce va spun? Toti cei care isi traiesc visul cu ochii stiu ca nu vorbesc prostii. Nici nu realizati cum va schimba un oras, cum va da energie, cum va face fericiti doar la gandul ca esti acolo, chiar daca uneori stai ore in sir in metrou si cineva te linge pe fatza ( din pacate so true…) sau cineva stranuta cu muci pe cartea ta (din nou…horribly true) sau si mai bine un boschetar oribil se aseaza langa tine.

Cu toate astea te intrebi…ti-e dor de casa? Nu…mi-e dor de cativa oameni, putini, dar care ii am in suflet. Ti-e dor de EL? Nu…poate doar ocazional, dar aici ti-ai dat seama ca nu ai nevoie de el sa fi fericita, ti-ai dat seama ca nu ai nevoie de el si punct.

Parisul nu e doar pentru indragostiti, ci mai ales pentru cei singur dar indragostiti irevocabil de el. And believe me…you are never single in Paris.

ENGLISH VERSION………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The alarm wakes me up with the same stupid song that I tell myself I am going to change every single day. I get out of bed…9.30..no, I am not late, I start working at 11. Doesn’t seem like much? What do you say about the fact that I am popping out my eyeballs for hours in a row, sometimes without taking a small break. But I do what I love…so that makes it about right.

I eat in a hurry and pun on my boots, you need a good pair of shoes in Paris ! I get out of the house and when I’m in the subway I remember I forgot my lung at home, I curse 3 times in my head and move on. I feel numb in the subway, I don’t see anybody I can’t hear anything, not even the homeless guy that keeps shouting for 5 minutes “mademoiselle”…I remove my headset and shout at him: “mais quoi, putain?!?!”…he backs off intimidates. I guess Parisian blood runs through my veins…the bitchy one. Before I start thinking about my life it’s already getting late and I got to head home. Home…this is a big word. Home is in Romania…I’m just passing through…or am I…? I got to thinking even more, each day that this is home. “You gotta believe me when I say, this is the best place on Earth”. Maybe you believe me, maybe you don’t but it is.

Since February I’ve been living my dream, living in Paris, on a huuuge Boulevard (and not of broken dreams) in a lovely apartment, I can see half the Eiffel Tower from my street, tower that I hate during daytime and fall in love each night when it lights all up. I get to walk by Seine and drink beers after beers after beers in Oberkampf. I have no time to waste because there is always something to do, something to see, a good hunka sushi menus to eat at “the boat” or a soiree with friends. Or…just imagine lying down on the grass, sun gently burning your skin, reading in the Jardins de Luxembourg. Sleeping every Sunday until 8.30 p.m and no getting no sleep the night before you go to work.

Does this sound like a cliché ?  Everybody who is living their dream knows I don’t talk bullshit. You can’t even imagine how a city changes you, how it gives you energy and power, how it makes you happy even at the thought that you are living there, even if sometimes you have to ride the subway for hours and somebody licks your face (sadly, true story) or somebody snoozes their buggers all over your books (again, horribly true) or even when a homeless guy chooses the seat next to you.

All these being said you wonder…do you miss home ? No, I don’t miss Romania, I miss some people there, a few, but buried deep in my heart. Do you miss HIM? No…maybe sometimes, but here you’ve realized that you don’t need him to be happy, you realized you don’t need him period.

Paris isn’t just for lovers, it’s especially for the singles that are irrevocably in love with it.

And believe me…you are never single in Paris.


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