Finding Paris

Partons Vite

Author's Note: I highly recommend you to listen to Kaolin’s Partons Vite (Let's Leave Fast in English) as it blends nicely to this chapter. And it is a good song! Also, if I have made mistakes in terms of anything related to Paris or France, please do tell me. I am not from Paris nor have I gone there. Most of what I write involving Paris or France, I got from research. I do check them though to make it quite reliable. Enjoy! And the picture is from a real B&B in Paris (Room Vaugirard from meetingthefrench.com)

So there I was slumped in the sofa, sessile. I tried hard to keep awake and think about how I was going to Paris with someone I haven’t really known for that long. Suddenly there was a dialogue in my head.

But he’s a good person isn’t he?

Yes, but I don’t know him that much.

It’s not like you could back out now. You already made the reservations.

Right.

Right, we already made the reservations. And anyway, though I haven’t known him for that long, I feel that I can trust him. I tried to get up, battling with my droopy eyes, to get to the kitchen and pour myself tea. I still have half a day to pack my things, inform Lucy and Sienna that I’ll be out for two weeks and sleep.

Choosing over my welcoming bed and going over to Lucy’s was difficult as my eyes urged me to walk over the bed and just give in to sleep. However, I have responsibilities which I honestly would like to throw away right now. I grabbed my sweater and went out. I passed the park, lonely as it had been the day the dancing program stopped. I watched the little blue swing sway from the dusty wind. I stayed for a while to watch the sun set, a million rays vanishing as it went down and let the sea swallow it. For a while, it was just me and the sun. I stood there for a couple of minutes staring at it as if it would converse with me. As I wiped a drop of sweat in my forehead, I caught a glimpse of the time and remembered that I still have to go over Lucy’s. Unfortunately, nobody was at home when I rang the bell. I wrote a message at the back of my train ticket and set off for home.

As soon as I arrived, I packed my things and cooked myself dinner. Microwave myself dinner was probably the right phrase. I microwaved the left-over pesto from mother and watched a Charlie Chaplin silent film; Modern Times. I was roaring with laughter when I noticed the time and decided that I’ll finally grant myself sleep.

Surprisingly, I woke up quite early the next day and performed my daily ablutions. I stayed quite long in the tub while I listened to jazz music. At around thirty minutes past six, I was sitting on the couch waiting for Victor to come by. I would’ve watched another Chaplin short film had I not heard the bell ring.

“Hi! You’re early,” I greeted him as I invited him in for coffee though he refused.

“I think we should be going now. I heard there were some road repairs outside the village and we might get stuck in traffic if we don’t leave now,” he said eyeing my baggage. “Are those all you’re bringing,” he said while pointing to my orange suitcase filled with stickers from all the places I’ve visited thus far and a gray backpack.

“Yes. Where are yours,” I asked him. I didn’t see him with a suitcase as he went in.

“This is what I’m bringing.” He pointed to his large backpack.

“Would that be convenient for you as we go around,” I asked him. I was planning to use my hitchhiking backpack but I figured it’d be too bothersome to bring around as it was really big and we wouldn’t be hitchhiking anyway.

“I have a smaller one inside. Are you ready,” he asked.

“Yes. Let’s go!” Off we went with Goodwin to the airport. “Who’s going to bring your bike home,” I asked him as strands of hair slapped me in the face.