Waking up in fresh air is not something I’ve done for a long time, at least in a house. Certainly not on a hotel. But where I’m staying is not like a hotel, rather more like what I’ve heard people describe a hostel to be like, complete with a shared restroom.
There is called sense of solitude so far in Paris. Most people that work in cafes, and certainly the cab driver and the hotel clerk, knew enough English to get me by, but I’ve heard very little so far. It gives me the sense of being an outsider and a foreigner.
I’m finding I’m immensely enjoying the quiet. Even with noises outside, it still gives me a sense of peace and relaxation. It’s not the same as if I were in the mountains or country, or by a lake or ocean, but it is a different kind of white noise. It’s a white noise that requires nothing of me.
When I’m in working mode even the need for sleep comes with the knowledge that I need a certain amount of rest to function for those that will depend on me for my particular skill set. Here, I could stare outside the window into the cool air and traffic all day, listening to city sounds. Why is that tempting?
Instead, I’ll soon, head towards the Seinne for a tour, enjoy it in it’s demystified reality, and be thankful that Parisians are gracious to share their city with tourists. So far, no one has so much as batted an eyelash at this goofy American who points his smartphone at the most ordinary of things. Maybe I’m their white noise.
(From July 6th)