Paris Jen

A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting down to dinner in the middle of Slovenia, and my friend George raised his glass to make a toast. ‘To Paris Jen,’ he said, and then proceeded to say very nice things about being proud of the way I’ve settled in, found friends and learned where stuff is.

I’ve been thinking about Paris Jen. Here are some key things about her:

• I have a membership card so I can have lunch in the basement of Madeleine church.
• More often than not, I eat dinner at 10pm or later.
• Sure, I’ve been to the Louvre. But I’ve also been to the Immigration Museum, the oldest orthodox theological institute in Western Europe, and the spot where Edith Piaf’s boyfriend used to rob young women.
• I know where you can get a 3€ pint of beer. (Up the Mouffetard. Once you inadvertently get stung for a 12€ beer, you learn this stuff).
• I have a 4^th favourite Parisian church.
• I once went to Sunday Night Dinner in an apartment where Samuel Beckett used to hang out, where I met a woman whose parents painted Gertrude Stein and where I talked to a strange man obsessed with the architecture of Boston.
• I always carry a corkscrew and plastic cups in case I need to drink wine by the Seine at short notice.
• I know where there is a Japanese pagoda that is also a cinema and I can take you to a shop that only sells drawer-knobs and antique lanterns.
• My French is oftentimes still a crock of shit, but I am gradually clawing my way towards progress. I have sent back food, sent back wine, been to the doctor and the hairdresser, and read a whole actual novel, as well as making it to season 3 of a French drama series that I also gave a presentation on in a French class. Not too shabby.
• My to-do list includes going to the arts centre that used to be a jazz instrument factory and the Museum of Counterforgery.
• I glare at tourists, and idiots who don’t know how to behave on trains.
• I know my way around pretty well, partly from walking a lot, partly because of my ace A-Z, and partly because I once spent an awfully long time on the Métro going to all 20 arrondissements in one day.
• I’ve learned that one of my favourite things in the world is going up stuff. So far, I’ve been up the Pompidou Centre, the Eiffel Tower, the temple in Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, the hot-air balloon in Parc André Citroën, the terrasse of Printemps, the Institut du Monde Arabe and the clock of the Musée d’Orsay.
• Last night I had dinner in the café used in the film Before Sunset. And we sat at the exact same table. I'm practically Ethan Hawke.

 Today is my Paris-a-versary. Exactly one year ago, I arrived in this amazing, beautiful, fascinating, exciting one-of-a-kind city. It’s pretty incredible to look back on my extraordinary year.

I’ve made brilliant new friends, learned amazing things and had a shit-ton of fun. I’ve lived on my own for the first time, dealt with bureaucratic madness in a different language, found out much more about what kind of person I am, and fallen in love with this beautiful place.

I’m sitting here in the apartment I moved into last week, listening to French jazz on the radio – I shit you not – and watching the rain that hasn’t stopped all day. I’m drinking coffee that I brew much stronger than I used to, and considering that I just need to take up smoking gitanes to fulfil a ridiculous cliché.

I’m writing a list of possible activities to do with my friend Charlotte who lands later. So far it reads, ‘Swedish Institute Secret Garden? Rabbit costume art show? Algerian food? Ice-cream cones of Chantilly cream? The cocktail place with the free peach wine?’ (Good luck Charlotte).

And you know what, I think to myself, life isn’t half bad. Well done, Paris Jen, I’m proud of you too.