"Why are you moving to Paris?" has been the most common reaction I’ve gotten, as if I’ve decided to move to a remote island in the middle of nowhere. My comeback has always been, why not? It usually leaves people stumped -and to be honest, I don’t even know the real reason why I am moving.
Sure, I can tell you the superficial reasons: having an inability to settle down, having big, gigantic dreams, having romantic delusions of a writing in a cafe, a big dash of wanderlust, plus two shakes of escapism, topped off with a yearn for adventure, excitement, the unknown, the old, and a general feeling that the world is my oyster. Those are all the components of me deciding that I am moving to Paris, for three months or however long my visa lasts, I get kicked out, get homesick, etc.
"you know, when your visa expires, all you have to do is tell the consulate you fell in love with a Parisian and you need more time to be with the love of your life." Said a good friend recently. Well, too bad Im not looking to fall in love in the slightest, and I’m too blunt to tell a good lie. But yes, Paris has an air of romance to it, a tint of Rose and sparkle and the feeling that anything is possible. (all this I know from books, movies, and having spent 4 days there in 2007, so take it with a grain of salt).
Back to the move: its coming up in less than two months, and I have days where I wake up and think, ‘what the hell am I doing? I could easily pay off all my student loans/debt with the money Im spending to go there. Im not getting any younger, and big grown up life is bound to catch up with me any day now.’ Then other days I wake up thinking - ‘ZOMG I’m moving to Paris - just because I feel like it! Because, what the hell, I’m not gettting any younger, and big grown up life is bound to catch up with me any day now.’
See, its all a matter of perspective. Yes, I could be running away from responsibilities (truth: they include a car payment, student loans). But, thankfully, the truth is I actually don’t have any serious responsibilities; no rent, no children, no boyfriend, no rock solid 9-5 job. I am taking my charity and writing work with me, and the ultimate goal while Im there is to write my first book.
Its not like one day I woke up and said, I’m moving to Paris. It was more like a gradual realization that for some reason, i needed to be there. That this was one last opportunity for me to do something bigger than myself. To push myself in my writing and not be afraid of change, to be confident in my future, and to be bold.
So for three months, I will become an American expat in Paris. Yes, I will try to emulate the oh so chic french girls in their stilletos and jeans, miraculously gliding over cobblestone streets. YEs, I will attempt to rent a scooter and I’ll wrap my head in a scarf and drive to versailles for lunch. I will sit in a cafe and attempt to read the newspaper for 2 hours while gossiping with old men about the country, the neighbors, the other cafe patrons. I will walk into the Chanel headquarters and pretend I am intersted in a $5,000 bag but MAYBE walk away with a keychain or some other dumb thing so I can say “oh this thing? just a little thing I bought for myself one afternoon on the Champs Elysee at the Chanel store”
Ahh, to be young and wild.