Paris Adventure 1: Let the Parisian Experience Begin
Paris is always a good idea. I know exactly how the idea entered my thoughts and took root in my mind. I can feel how it gives pulse to my life and encourages my dreams. I can only guess how it will change me and affect my future. Ideas become real. This time it’s my turn to choose…
On 31st July I packed my luggage and sat at the backseat of my daddy’s van, heading to the Bratislava airport, to spend the best five months of my life. What a great plan! I had decided not to talk about my fears and expectations. Everyone is excited when starting something new. Who cares about someone else’s new life when they have enough of their everyday troubles to cope with? I didn’t want to bother anybody. But after all we are only human. People learn from faults and gain from experiences. In order to learn and gain we must share with others. Our emotions are shaped by the people we meet, by the places we see, by the situations we live through and finally by who we are. And so I landed here in Paris, ready to share with you.
I’ve always believed that good ideas must turn out well no matter what their realizations are. At least it should be that way. World is unfair enough to make this belief not true. My Parisian adventure began eight weeks ago. If you’d like to know what I did before the school started, let me tell you my story.
In four weeks I formed quite a close relationship with a certain washer in one of Paris’ many restaurants. Pouring beverages into glasses and washing them in that washer was Sisyphean labour. I also changed beer kegs and got sticky every time because of the gas I always forgot to turn off. Twice I got stuck in a fridge. My hair smelt like a big, well-roasted shell served with fries. I got the highest salary in my life and the best language training ever.
When I tried to make connections with new people, I was somehow reserved, speaking poor school French and constantly overthinking and overanalysing all the tenses and expressions I had learned at home. However, my tongue loosened perceptibly when asked where I came from or what my accent was. Well, yes, like thousands of Slovaks before me who had to explain where the heart of Europe lay, my fate was no different. I just had to tell everyone that no, Slovakia is no longer a part of Czechoslovakia, that no, it is neither a part of Russia and no, it is not Slovenia at all. Sometimes, I had a feeling these conversations were like a broken gramophone, playing the same old disgusting song all over. I was thought to be a good-time girl from Eastern Europe because the French considered any place to the east of Prague full of poor children of socialism. I accepted my task of introducing them to reality and tried to stay calm and patient. I was doing it for my country. I was responsible for her.
After all the working like a fury six days a week, I spent a couple of weeks on a holiday I have always dreamed of – East Sussex. Here everything was simply lovely. It was a great relax, which pumped me up with a lot of energy that I’m definitely going to need now. Back in Paris, I am ready to reveal every single secret it hides and benefit from every single day.
Photo source: National Geographic
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