The Final Visitor
I have been lucky enough that during my time here I have had my fair share of visitors. Each visit has been for a different length of time, with a different number of people wanting to do a variety of different things but all equally as unique and exciting.
I have loved the fact that each visit seems to highlight the multifaceted place that is the city I live in, and the ways in which I seem to live my life here. My two main roles seem to be the instinct driven Parisienne who flies around from little cafe to little cafe, and the informed guide who drags people round the main sights reciting odd bits of drivel that she has picked up over the past year.
This weekend I dragged a friend round for the third time. More than dragging her around, we in fact strolled arm in arm up the cobbled streets of Montmatre, paused thoughtfully in the right places at popular exhibitions and laughed our way across the city in the early hours as the sun came up. We had lunch without worrying about the slip of paper whose arrival at the end was certain, we sipped Ti Punch and Sancerre because we wanted to, we watched silly kiddy films because we could and played Uno with the kids for longer than you would think possible. We danced our way across the city through various genres, various bars and with various people. (Once such session took place in a rather dubious bar where the music selection ranged from Grease to “Graig” David!) It was easy; it was fun. I haven’t been able to laugh like that in a long time.
This whirlwind visit produced two very different reactions. It made me realise what I miss so much at home. I miss the friends who I have grown up with, whose stories range from three days ago to thirteen years. The friends who know me inside out; who know when I am going to laugh and when I am going to cry. They know when I need them the most. They understand without me having to explain.
But at the same time, it made me realise how much I love my life here. I love my relationship with this city; I know her as well as she knows me. As the days roll by, people start to leave and the scene is beginning to change. The little perfect world is slowly fading away, the next season is coming.
As I look back at all the ink scribbled on the page, I smile and feel lucky to have been able to experience it all with all these amazing people. But inevitably, the page has to turn and what is waiting is a big blank page. Another blank page for me to fill.
