Evading Culture Shock in Paris

Got up early this morning to finish packing, clean out the refrigerator in Venice, and get on the road to the Nimes train station. David had volunteered to drive, and we were leaving at 8 AM sharp for me to catch a 9:50 train. David told me to wake him up at 8:50. Concerned that that might be cutting things a little close, I asked, “how about if I wake you up at 8:45 and bring you coffee?” David growled back in his Dubliner dialect, “well, you can’t bring the coffee at 8:45. I have to have five minutes before I drink my coffee.” So I agreed to wake him at 8:45 and bring him coffee at 8:50 (hey, he was doing me a big favor by driving me to the train station…)

As I waited for David to finish his coffee, Ivan, Marie Paule, and Jay appeared to say goodbye. Simon had asked me to knock on his door before I left, and I did, receiving nothing but groans on the other side of my knock. Eventually Simon appeared looking decidedly disheveled, but all our goodbyes were said. I hopped into David’s red Saab and we were off.

Nimes is usually about an hour’s drive, but there were traffic snafus due to construction, and David dropped me off at the station at 9:30 to stand in line for my reserved ticket. I told him he didn’t have to come in with me, but he insisted that he would park the car and meet me in the station. I got my ticket, and saw that my train was 15 minutes late. As I waited for David I felt a little wave of panic. For the first time since I arrived in Paris I was on my own again, with only a little knowledge of the French language. As I waited for David, I felt again the sadness of leaving the peace and camaraderie of my friends at Malérargues.

Yesterday seemed like an interminable limbo. All my fellow wifi café members were avoiding the rain in their rooms, resting up from the physical and emotional work of the workshop. I packed, cleaned, and slept. I saw Jennifer in the courtyard and asked if she’d like to share a “clean out your refrigerator lunch.” Eventually Jennifer, David, Simon, and I had a lunch of salad, tuna, avocado, chevre, and cherries. Once dispatched of lunch, we once again went our separate directions. I went back to my room and slept. Once awake, I walked down the mountain to empty my trash and throw my recyclables in the government bin.

Upon returning, I learned Ivan and Simon were going to St. Jean du Gard to drop off laundry. I asked to go along just for the company. We curved through the green mountain roads and wound up in a beautiful little old stone French village. Simon, Ivan, and I had a coffee outside of a café, and were back in the car to return to Malérargues.

When Ivan stopped to drop off the laundry, Simon and I investigated a nearby hilltop cemetery. The view over the valley was breathtaking, and the neatly kept family plots seemed very orderly in their raised crypts and fenced-in fortitude. It was a beautiful place to be laid to rest.

At 7PM, Simon, Jennifer, and I met in the Orangerie studio to listen to David read his one-person play. We sat on the floor in the stone room and listened to the rain on the skylights as David read his short verse play with music. It was a very moving experience, and David left us alone for a while to consider feedback. We all met in Simon’s flat with a glass of French rosé to discuss David’s play with him. After which we once again cleaned out our refrigerators and made a meal. I brought salad and made pasta with a sauce of tomatoes, fennel, onion, garlic, and tuna. Simon made a Spanish omelet with asparagus. I brought down my box of wine, and we began to have a party. David built a fire in Simon’s fireplace to stave off the dreariness of the night. Ivan came in and shared our leftovers. Then Marie Paule, Jay, and a stagier, Miriam came by, too. By midnight the wine was finished, the dishes washed, and we all disbursed for our rooms.

I slept most of the way to Paris on the TGV. I arrived at Gare de Lyon and took a taxi to my hotel, which is in the 5th Arrondisement near the Luxembourg garden. My room is tiny, but with a nice bath and a balcony overlooking the Rue St. Michel. I got my bearings, and contacted Jean-François via Facebook to ask him if he could meet me for dinner in the next two days. He sent me his mobile number, so I took a walk in the neighborhood to find a “tabac” to buy a phone card and some metro tickets. On the way, I went into a stationery store to buy some cards and a copy of Le Petit Prince. I asked the shopkeeper if he sold stamps, and he laughed at my bad French. But he was good humored and gave me directions to the post office. I found my way to the post office (which was also a bank, which I found confusing) and asked a clerk bored to be bothered by an American for stamps. Bored as he was, he did sell them to me. I walked back to my hotel as the sky opened up in rain. So romantic to be walking in Paris, so not romantic to be walking in the windy, cold rain. I stopped by a patisserie for a pain chocolate, and a supermarket for some wine. Then I came back to the hotel to try to call Jean-François. But I couldn’t understand how the phone card worked, or how the hotel phone called out, so I was unsuccessful and frustrated. I finally Facebooked Jean-François, who instant-messaged me on Facebook, and we arranged a time for him to come pick me up at my hotel! Hooray for technology!

There is culture shock being back in the city, even one of the most fabulous cities of the world. I am trying to be easy with myself and not force a “tourist mêlée” of trying to do too much. So I’m very happy to be writing this while waiting for Jean François.