Things You'll Find in a Parisian Garden

My first few weeks in Paris have been marked with wine, cigarettes, croissants, more wine and occasionally things that don't involve consuming. Very occasionally. Adjusting to life in the 20th Arrondissement of one my favorite cities is an exciting challenge that I expect to surmount sometime in mid to late July. I am giving myself two months to learn to speak french. One month in, I am considering learning to be mute instead.

It's hard to leave the house without spending 30 Euro, which painfully is about $45. I still measure everything in dollars because I've yet to get my French bank account set up. So, every week I withdraw painful amounts of cash from the MAC machine and always refuse the receipt. I hang on to the bills as long as I can but trade them over at the supermarket and tabac and at any one of a hundred little bodegas around the neighborhood as fast as I can walk from place to place. It's much safer to stay inside.

But, I came to Paris to write and to be inspired by the city. What I have found most inspiring so far, though, is just how much I am able to accomplish when I don't have to go to the office. For the first time since I was in high school, I don't have to go to work or school or anywhere but wherever I want. I am taking advantage of the freedom, sleeping in, eating and drinking my way through the days and somehow still writing at least 500 words a day.

Last week I went to to the Tulleries Gardens, which is one of my favorite places in the city. My adventure started as soon as I got on the Metro. There was a man standing next to me on the train wearing slim fit, red plaid pajama pants. His scarf can only be described as two recently dead foxes and on his head, a hat made out of another recently dead animal and ornate brocade. My favorite part, though, were his shoes--olive green Crocs. Classic Parisian style . . .

When I arrived in the gardens, I found that the modern art exhibit I had seen a few weeks before was still on display. When I saw the exhibit the first time, I was caught off guard by the grotesque giant faces in silver plaster. They encircle a lovely fountain and are a mildly unpleasant juxtaposition to the delicate sculptures that permanently reside in the gardens. But, they are interesting at the very least and I guess that's the point. Either way, on my second visit, there were about 1000 children running from silver monster to silver monster, all scribbling and sketching in matching bright orange folders. Groups of three of four moved from each sculpture, their faces filled with the kind of unbridled excitement that can only be found on field trips.

I found myself a chair and sat down to observe them and before I got to far, a man approached me from my left.

"Excuse me, do you speak English?" he asked.

"What?" I asked, lifting my pen from the page, removing my headphones and tilting my sunglasses up.

"I was wondering if you'd like to talk with me for a while. I am a medical student and need to practice my English."

"I'm sorry, I'm kind of in the middle of something here," I said, waving my pen and turning my head.

"You are writing?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Well, as I said, I am a medical student and I'd love to give you a foot massage while you work."

"Excuse me? I'm sorry, I don't think I understood what you just said."

"Well, feet are my speciality and I think it would be nice for you if I gave you a foot massage. It's good. I am a medical student."

"No, thank you," I said, turning my head, replacing my sunglasses and repositioning my headphones.

"No, it's good. I am a medical student. Please. I'd love to massage your feet."

"No."

"Why not? I am a medical student. It's my speciality."

"No."

This went on for a couple minutes before he (sort of) took the hint and walked away. He stood about 10 feet from my chair, looking at me for another few minutes before finally leaving my peripheral. The rest of my afternoon in the park was uneventful, which I was I happy about. When I got home and retold the story to Alayna, she saw the bright side instantly . . . "Now you can tell your mom you've met a boy and he's a med student. It's every mother's dream!"