I have already posted this on twitter, and on Facebook, but why not just oversaturate social media even more and post it again? Here. On the blog that I have neglected quite seriously the past few months.
Aside from that though, I left France feeling whole again. There is something so personal about being totally alone, and I don’t just mean that in the literal sense. The first day I woke up feeling quite depressed, the “did I really do this to myself?” question circulating in my brain for a solid twenty four hours. I am a strong woman, but I was five thousand miles away from home in a country that I could barely understand what was spoken to me, and for a good day and a half, I was terrified.
Luckily that feeling wore off, and my usual personality kicked in. The “I don’t really care what happens, let’s figure this out and make the most of everything” side, which I usually embrace one hundred percent. I climbed the Eiffel Tower, I stood on Point Zero at Notre Dame, and I found the bookstore I have always wanted to see. I climbed the steps in Montmartre to see Sacre Coeur, and I bought an old purse in an old shop for five euro. I discovered (again) that I truly enjoy my own company, but that didn’t stop one thought from running through my head on a daily basis:
Paris is city that is meant to be shared.
So, maybe I didn’t see everything, or experience what other people think Paris is about, but I found what I was looking for. Next time, I will bring a friend along, because beauty is meant to be shared.