21,000 steps a day.
Of those 21,000 steps, I spend about 13,000 bookpacking through Paris. Sixteen of us go off into the Parisian streets tracing the trajectories of A Tale of Two Cities and Les Misérables while submerging ourselves in the history of the 18th and 19th centuries. Of the remaining 8,000 steps, I find myself sauntering around this beautiful city, not only admiring the elaborate and decorative architecture but the relaxed and chic nature of the Paris locals.
However, it took me a while to master the art of being a flâneur when I first arrived in Paris.
Charlotte and Lili enjoying their meal after a very long wait…
After a long day of travel on the Eurostar from London, I could not wait to get settled into my charming apartment and devour a quick Parisian meal before preparing for the 3-week journey that awaited. My roommates and I searched for restaurants near us and found the closest one to be 15 minutes away! Annoyed by its inconvenience, we rushed out of our apartment and down the residential streets of the 16th district. It was only 7:00 pm but everything appeared to be so quiet and serene. The only noise you could hear was the sound of the trees gracefully swaying in the wind. Where was everybody? We filled the silence with our American laughter but remembered not to be too loud so we wouldn’t draw attention toward ourselves. Upon approaching the restaurant, I was shocked to see how bright and lively it was inside. The restaurant radiated a vibrant but comforting atmosphere that welcomed its customers inside. This is where the action was! We were greeted by the host and swiftly seated to our table, but after ten minutes passed, and then fifteen, I quickly realized that this was not going to be a fast meal. As my impatience intensified I began to pass the time by trying to discern the French words on the menu without help from my roommates Lili and Charlotte. And while my Dad taught me a few words before this trip, I still struggled to comprehend the French language. The language, the routine, and the culture were all so foreign to me.
Growing up in New York City I am accustomed to the fast-paced lifestyle. The buzzing traffic, the hustle and bustle of the people, and the 24-hour routine are what keeps me going. New York City makes me feel alive as it hums with relentless energy from dawn to dusk. The city pulsates with productivity, urging its occupants to go go go. I’ve never not been doing something. And there has never been a moment where I am not trying to maximize my time. So as I was sitting in this restaurant I became restless because suddenly things have taken a pause. In New York City, there is no time to pause. Here in Paris, I had been instantaneously knocked off my fast-paced rhythm that I grew so comfortable to know. As we were sitting and waiting for our pasta, I thought about my strong-willed Nana who was born and raised in New York City. She would have walked straight out of that restaurant after ten minutes because it’s not customary for us New Yorkers to wait.
And that’s the beauty of Paris. Waiting and slowing down to savor life’s simple pleasures. The dichotomy between Paris’ serene, leisurely rhythm and New York City’s fast-paced rhythm was intimidating at first, but I knew I needed to adapt if I wanted to have the best Parisian experience for the next 3 weeks.
Every morning on my commute to Accent Study Center, I put my flâneuring skills to the test. I have to remind myself to saunter, not stride. There is no need to rush in the mornings because my roommates and I leave ample time before lecture starts. Every time I find myself speeding up in pace, I try slowing myself down and taking a deep breath. I attempt to walk down the streets guided by my senses. What can I hear, feel, see, taste, touch? My morning walks allow me to expand my capacity for wonder and discover new pleasures I might have missed if I focused solely on getting to my destination.
The black Scottish terrier that I pass on my morning commute
I pass a petite old lady, around the age of 70 or so, wearing a long black coat and high heels every day. She holds her head low as she walks her black Scottish terrier to the park that is located right behind our apartment building. I wonder what her life was like. What she was like when she was a little kid. If she has ever been loved or in love. I conjure up different narratives of who this woman is and was. If not for a city that encourages a mindful appreciation for life’s moments, I would not have noticed this lady or frankly cared about her.
What's different about Paris from New York City is that Parisian culture enables you to bask in the beauty of your surroundings and appreciate the little things. Paris has opened my eyes to the joy of the present moment rather than pondering over the past and anxiously awaiting the future. And while I will never be able to change the hustle, bustle nature of New York City, I want to implement Parisian leisurely rhythm into my life to find my own balance. A balance that allows me to recharge and indulge in the art of being a flâneur.
“A calm and modest life brings more happiness than the pursuit of success combined with constant restlessness.”