Life moves too quickly when it moves in slow motion

The more and more I reflect on Paris (mostly in the form of my self-reflexive rapport du stage...ew), the more I realize how much this place has changed me. In physical form, I'm pretty much the same in appearance and such as I was when I left, sure, but my outlook on life, my way of seeing events in the US (especially of the political variety), and my perceptions of myself have been completely revolutionized, basically. I'm sort of afraid that I won't be recognizable when I get back, at least in the way I act and the person I am. But then again, do people really change? Put me back in the same environment, I'll probably be mostly the same. Hehe.

In any case, more on what I will miss about Paris. This weeks abstract concept will be, I suppose, um, well what's the best way to put this...the vitality, nay, the accessibility that is city life. I mean, I can get city life most anywhere in the world, but Paris is unique, you know. It's a city where everybody is walking the streets, even if it's pourring rain outside, and where you can always find a boulangerie that's open even on Sunday (unlike most everything else). On that note, it's a city where things close randomly (the owner didn't feel like coming in? ok, no big...), where strikes block off city streets and prevent you from following the path you had planned on (especially if you're driving), and where metro stations and lines close at least once a day do to a malfunction or a protest or (worst of all) a suicide or attempted suicide--and where you just go with the flow. Even in California, famed state of "going-with-the-flow" laid-back beaches and sunny days, life is not this laid-back. Even at Stanford, campus of discussion sections having trouble finding space on the grass because every other discussion section is there, or of slip-and-slides on the front lawn on a breezy April afternoon, the stress can feel daunting and the rush between places can become more overwhelming. In Paris, if you show up an hour late to work, nobody faults you for it, and if you miss the bus and have to wait 20 minutes for the next one--hey, just another opportunity to enjoy the scenery and the company of 10 other people who missed the bus when you did.

I mean, this attitude is certainly not unique to Paris. In fact, Paris is sort of behind when you compare the laid-back to feel to, say, a Barcelona or an Athens or much of Italy. But the unique way it manifests itself in Paris--which is to say, mostly in the form of "manifs" (i.e., manifestations = protests)--is perfect, and I'm afraid somewhat that with the influx of a global economy and its accompanying work demands that will change. Once the 35 hour work week is abolished (which is admittedly probably a good thing) and once the 6 weeks of vacation are shortened to four, I fear for the joie de vivre parisienne, but alas, we'll see what happens. In any case, I'll be able to say, ten years from now, I once knew a Paris where the metro broke down and you just took it for granted, where friends would always show up 15 minutes (minimum) after the agreed on meeting time and it was expected, and where things still closed down on Sundays and (sometimes) Mondays. Alas, nostalgia is very agreable bedfellow.

So yeah, with one week to go, only one more entry before I leave, I'm starting to feel sad. I had a day dream today of my plane taking off from CDG, the feeling I'll have as the landing gear close in and the countryside around Paris fades away. The feeling of getting in the taxi to the airport, of leaving peripherique on my way out, of driving along Blvd St-Michel for a last time, saying goodbye to all the places where I used to drink beer and find cheap dinners, to all the memories of meeting "at the fountain"! It's almost unbearable, so I'm going to try to live in denial and stop thinking about it for now. In the mean time, I'll be having the best last-week-in-Paris of my life, so don't be surprised if I'm constantly in and out of contact!!!