Clarabella Speaks.

"It is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves" - Shakespeare

Wednesday, 18 September 2013

Diaries of a Parisian Office Worker: The final instalment.

Ça y est, c'est terminé. I have seen the Eiffel Tower for the last time, finished my last shift, been to my last gym class and most importantly, walked up those stairs for the last time. Whilst I may no longer be a Parisian waitress, we will pass that off as a mere technicality to allow me to complete the promised last blog in a series that brought you lots of laughs and kept me my sanity. Whoever said it is important to be able to laugh at yourself was defs on to something.

Main drama in the last 4 weeks (there had to be something) was the unwelcome contraction of tendonitis in my shins. But alas, not one to be held back by something so minor (slash potentially quite major), after a week of 'cutting back' I decided enough was enough and even ventured into new and crazier sporting territories (google GRIT series to see what I mean), and earned a wrist band for my effort, result. The time for resting is now, when I'm not paying for a gym membership, but which unfortunately coincides with me enjoying some lazy time and fully stocked home cupboards. Oh dear.

The only other near drama was leaving my laptop in a shop changing room and getting 3 metro stops further on before realising I no longer had it. Turns out losing a passport doesn't automatically mean I'm careful with all my belongings and instead I need to learn from each individual mistake in order to never repeat it again. Thankfully someone handed it in and the worst thing I had to deal with was the shop assistant's incredulous reaction, "Mais madame comment est-ce que vous pouvez oublier un ordinateur?!" franchement je ne sais pas.

My last couple of weeks were also when I finally met some friendly Parisians, I kid you not they do exist. One of said mythical creatures came in the form of a bearded homeless woman. She asked for money so I gave her some. Then she told me "they" had stolen her papers and when I told her I couldn't help her, she sat down beside me. Awks. Not wanting to be rude I remained in my seat and we proceeded to have a conversation and share some nougat. #cute. What wasn't so cute was the grown man on the metro picking his nose and wiping it on the door handle, or the woman sat opposite me whose toenails would have put an eagle's claws to shame. The Parisian metro is a weird and not so wonderful place but I will certainly miss it when I'm having to walk 20 minutes at a time to get around Durham.

I will (/already am), believe it or not, miss Paris. No your eyes are not mistaken I did just write that. They (my mother in particular, and mothers really are always right) told me it would happen, and after several false alarms, the city I spent so long hating finally worked its charm on me and I'm even considering going back. OMG. Bet you never saw that one coming. The past 7 months have probably been the toughest of my life (here comes the melodrama) but they have also been the most rewarding and whilst I would never want to relive them, I can honestly say I wouldn't change them. To quote a certain Monsieur Kanye West, "tha tha tha that that don't kill me, can only make me stronger". And I, one year on since I left for Granada, am stronger. Don't worry the emotional sop ends here and I shall bid you farewell with some of my favourite pics of Paris. It's been one hell of a roller coaster, thanks for the support, bitchachos.

Bises, besos, mwah.

















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