Henry James in Paris

I am not a writer, nor would I ever consider myself as one. However, today I am writing, as I will call it, “The Outsider”, for I feel nothing more or less than such. I am an outsider in a way that which everyone surrounding me seems to understand and relate, while I am a cast in the shadows attempting to slip off half of the mask. The past weeks have been ones of exploration and searching of the soul but the results are some of disappointment while others achievement. New York City is a world of comfort; hence it is a place where I feel the opportunity of choice. New York City is one to be in the bones, where its experience is of pure confidence, which masks the ultimate bliss. I, now in Paris, have yet to experience this confidence that masks bliss but rather bliss that masks confidence. Eugene Lang of New York City is pure freedom while Parsons of Paris has been, to me at least so far, claustrophobic. This claustrophobia, caused by minute selection of courses and opportunity, feels as if there is no freedom of choice, and is one of my reasoning’s of feeling as the outsider.

Henry James was the author of the past week reading and it was as alien to me as Paris itself, for I have never read in such ways that he writes. Henry James has a style of complication. His literary style of realism is more of one of dense, poetic symbolism- one that deranges my mind in grasping. There is a connection to the writing style of James and of Hemingway, for they produce on paper life through their perception. Despite this comparison, Hemingway’s style is more of simplistic and direct, but also extremely visual. James too, is visual but his optical is one of philosophic. Yet, the two approach ways in identifying not just life, but life in Paris.

As mentioned earlier, the results since my arrival in Paris have been ones of disappointment and achievement. Achievements have made their way in bombarding my life of the new. Places, art, food, people, language, architecture, and way of living- it is all new. New is of one that excites me the most. But what is this disappointment? There seems to be a dark hole that is lying beneath this electric flesh that is barricading what should have been the confidence and bliss that was expected. Maybe it is the act of expecting. Although with only twenty years of life, it has occurred to me when one abides by the act of prediction, negative or positive, the aftermath always fails to triumph.

Now, this pessimism shouldn’t and does not relate to Paris itself, for the city is full of beauty, and when one is cornered by beauty, happiness occurs. It is not that there is no happiness being felt, for it is confidence that is being lacked, and when one lacks confidence, one lacks independence. As I am writing this, the root of the problem has finally become clear in its path. It is fear. The dark hole lying beneath my electric flesh is fear. Is it possible that it is the fear that fears me? Is it fear that is holding back the light that was prepared to take advantage of every opportunity of the new this city has to offer? What if it is fear of the new, fear of letting go of what was once convenient and now being forced to appreciate the excruciating awkwardness?  What is ironic about this current state is that this was the reasoning of leaving New York City, a place that is so familiar now being thousands of miles away.

Fear, disappointment, discomfort, are what swarm my body when I am placed in a situation where I feel as if I do not understand, do not belong. This is true in the case that it is intimidating to attempt to speak French because I do not, although know enough and could easily put sentences together, but instead stick to English and still feel as a fool. This is also why going out alone, other than places familiar, has not happened yet. My disappointment now is the equivalent of lack of confidence and independence. This is so when reading, for example, Henry James; one whose literary style appears unfamiliar, is difficult to understand, and requires full consideration. Feeling as a fool. This is yet another that falls under the genre of my disappointment, even a subgenre of my fear. But maybe this is the reasoning of coming to Paris, to learn not to feel as a fool even when wrong or clueless. What is wrong with being wrong or clueless? It is impossible to be correct and knowledgeable of everything, right? These are things, which need to become an acceptance and a closure, for, and then confidence and independence will be regained and the outsider will be diminished.     

Beginning the Feast

January in Paris. Many had said that all I could expect was rain and darkness, but I knew that 2015 was going to be different. The seventeenth of January was my first true day in the city of love; at least I think it was, for I felt as if I was having an out of body experience. Although jet lag had taken over my body, my soul was alive as the sun glistened through the marshmallow clouds swirling in pink and purple shades as if the sky had turned into cotton candy. My friend Dave whom I attend school with back in New York City, but originally from London, had planned to be in the city for the day to meet up with me. Now, when I say that this day felt like an out of body experience, surreal it was by the way things had just happened to work out and fall into place. You see, my best friend Jacqueline, also from New York, decided to come to Paris with me for the week to move me in and get a small feel of the love, the art and the history this magical place has to offer. At the start of the day, I had to attend orientation at Parsons, the art school I am attending for the semester, for why I am here in the first place. Might I add, since it is my first day here in the city, I have no phone, no way of contact with the world of technology for the time being. Before I left, I told Jacqueline that I believed I would be able to get WIFI at the school and I would let her know when I was done so she could come and meet me and then we could meet up with Dave. Little did I know that once I had arrived at school, my phone wouldn’t connect to WIFI, I had no idea the area I was in, spoke no French and had no way of contacting Jacqueline. So then I began to panic; you see, the past six months I developed an issue with anxiety. I don’t know why or what had triggered this, especially since I am now twenty years old and have never dealt with anything like this ever in my life, but it is what it is. What usually triggers this anxiety is when I am out of my comfort zone, so the situation I was in at the time explains it all. As I am beginning to panic, the security guard from downstairs comes to the room to tell me I have a friend waiting for me in the lobby. I am calm and full of faith. I went downstairs and there she is, Jacqueline waiting for me, as she somehow knew to come to me.

            After orientation, one of the program leaders decided to take the group to a “home goods” store to buy things for our dorms or apartments. She claims that it is very close by, so I call Dave, using Jacqueline’s phone, telling him to meet us at the Pyramides stations in fifteen minutes, for he claimed he was almost by the school anyways. As we’re walking with the group, Elena, our program leader takes us down into the metro station because the store is off of Chatelet, one stop from Pyramides. Jacqueline and I are now conflicted with what to do about Dave since we did not know we would be taking the train to this store. As we are trying to figure out what to do, I turn around and who is standing there smiling, waiting to greet me, Dave. This was the second thing that had just happened to work out today.

            As we got off the metro at Chatelet, there it was; so beautiful and unreal, The Seine. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. I felt as if I was in an old French film. Dave, Jacqueline and I decided to then not waste this perfect day and to explore. We began by stopping to get a bite to eat at a restaurant nearby. Jacqueline claimed she had another friend from New York that just also happened to be in Paris, was trying to have him meet up with us but his phone died. So there we sat at this restaurant, ordering espresso and avocat- crevettes, avocado and shrimp. Within fifteen minutes, another miracle happened, Jacqueline’s friend, Joseph, just happened to find us and join our main dish of saumon fume, smoked salmon. After our dejeuner, it was time to explore. I still could not believe how perfect the weather was for I was simply wearing a denim jacket on top of a grey sweater. Our exploring was simply to walk along the Seine. We started on one side until we decided to explore the other. The more we walked the more stands we passed. People selling old literature, records, art, flowers, and of course the typical touristy items. Jacqueline walked with Joseph, an old friend whom she had not seen in a long time, while I walked with Dave. I had never thought of Dave in a romantic sense but today was different; it was the happiest I had felt in maybe over a year. I don’t know if it was because we were on the Seine surrounded by the most beautiful architecture I have ever seen in my life, because Dave spoke perfect French, because the sun was shining golden on my hair while the wind was giving it a twirl, or maybe because Dave had me smiling and laughing nonstop while my best friend was on her own journey right behind me. I don’t know. But what I do know is that in this moment I was falling in love with the place that I was going to spend the next four and a half months of my life living in and I couldn’t be any happier. This was ultimate bliss.

            As Dave, Jacqueline, Joseph and I continued our journey along the Seine, the serenity continued. It was as if almost everything I had wanted to see that made me think of Paris had just come to us on our own. There it was, The Louvre. It was as if it had just jumped out at us and we didn’t see it coming. I thought to myself, this is how my life is going to be the next several months, I am going to be walking along on my way somewhere and nonchalantly the Louvre will be right there. There were kids playing futbol, in the grass in front of the museum like it was just an ordinary building. That is another thing, the grass. Every patch of grass I came upon was so green and fresh. The air was a heavenly scent I couldn’t even begin to describe. What a change from the thickness of pollution that fills the New York City skies. Because of the freshness in the grass and air, I allowed my nose to lead the group of where we should adventure next and we ended up in Les Jardin Tuilleries, another place that I couldn’t wait to see. Along my left and right, people were picnicking, dancing, reading, painting and loving. The inspiration I had hoped to find in Paris was this spot. One of many more I believe will come. As we walked along the Tuilleries, directly in front of us was a Ferris Wheel that I had no knowledge of existing in Paris. La Grand Roue stood tall and majestic. I’m not sure why but I’ve always had a love of the way Ferris wheels appear to be. I think they are beautiful but it is something that I do not think I could ever really explain why. 

            The sun was beginning to set and the air began to reach a chill but I was still in a sort of trance and continued to walk along with everyone else until we had reached the biggest iconic figure of Paris, The Eiffel tower. I felt as if I was in the heart of Paris, with no worries and surrounded by beauty. It was then that daylight turned into night. Dave went to buy a pain au chocolat, chocolate croissant, which warmed me. As we walked back up the seine to find the metro, Dave turned me around and it was a sight I will hold with me forever, the Eiffel Tower sparkling in gold and white. I then looked back along the Seine and couldn’t understand how Paris could be so absolutely stunningly mind blowing during the day and the night. It was then that I snapped back to reality trying to figure out what even happened that day, because it was the first time I have ever been surrounded by such history and art that it did not feel real and it was then clear to me that I came here to Paris for a reason and that I will have to figure out.