Today was my first rainy day in Paris.
Today is Sunday.
Ive realized that Sundays in Paris are a small gift to us Americans. Most everything is closed and there is not much to do except relax and enjoy people and this city. I wandered around Rue Mouffetard, a darling street right by my house, and people watched. Everyone here seems to enjoy the day, the simple things. For example, two musicians serenaded a random group of couples that began dancing spontaneously. For me, it was a rare moment of impulsive joy that I was lucky to have witnessed. For them, it was a typical Sunday affair. As I continued up my cobble stoned route, past the farmer's markets, cheese shops, boulangeries, bakeries and the decayed and overgrown church, I could not help but feel overwhelmed with luck. To be a part of a culture so old, yet so vibrant, is truly a gift that I would never have fully understood had I not taken this opportunity to live in the thick of it.
I have also learned that the best way to see and know this city is to run through it. I have never enjoyed running as much as I do here. Every street is unique, every building an art piece. I do not think I will ever get used to running out of my apartment and passing the Notre Dame cathedral or the Pantheon or the Luxembourg gardens, or seeing the Eiffel Tower looming in the distance. My favorite part about running is getting lost. Picking a random direction and taking any turn I choose, just to see where I end up. I learn my city by running through people, dodging children, and lingering in front of stores and beloved pastry shops. As cliche as it is, each day here is extraordinary. I cannot help but be permanently happy and content.
dimanche 24 janvier 2010
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