This is my final installment about my month’s trip to Paris. However, due to a few distractions and my recent lack of focus, I’ve had extra time to reflect on my entire experience now that I’m home. Initially, I was apprehensive about travelling to Paris on my own. I worried that I might not enjoy my time there. However, this fear was short-lived, as I found myself falling in love with the city within a day. I had many thoughts during my trip, so much so that it gave me a headache, or perhaps it was the wine. It made me question how one knows whether where they currently reside is truly “home.”
As a Canadian, there aren’t many options I would choose to live in Canada. Toronto is a big city which is a plus, but it lacks charm. Where are their patios? Montreal is pretty and has a lot of history, but it’s missing something for me. The prairies, uh, nope! Calgary or Edmonton? I can’t, I sound like Canada’s snobby big sister, and I’m okay with that.
I live in Vancouver, one of the world’s prettiest cities, but is that enough? Vancouver is not unlike dating a model. It’s beautiful to look at, but if there isn’t a lot in common, you will tire of just another pretty face. Meaning; that I have never been your typical outdoors girl and have never been shy about admitting this fact, and at some point, perhaps all this beauty is lost on me. I struggle with this, and I hear your disbelief. Vancouver is beautiful, but it’s still a small town relative to the big players.
Size matters, and yes, I said that. There’s something inside me, a switch, a feeling, or energy when I’m in Paris, London or Rome. These cities are some big players, and they make me come alive. They are beautiful in their own way, but it goes deeper than that. I can’t get past their history. I take to the streets, imagining the events that took place hundreds of years ago. The same buildings are still standing. It’s hard not to get excited, and I want to know every intimate detail. They’re not just another pretty face.
I felt at home in Paris; I was getting into a groove by the end of my month’s visit. I definitely could have stayed longer, but I missed my boys. It would have been nice to have a job or part-time studies to keep me feeling more local than a tourist. Needing a sense of purpose and a reason to get up in the morning is essential. I’m still exploring those options.
What about love? Doesn’t being in love have something to do with where you live? I have amazing friends and, of course, my family. I feel very fortunate to be loved by so many. But what about that special someone who loves you unconditionally, where simply sitting together on the sofa speaks volumes without the need for words? Just being together is love enough. I yearned for that moment in Paris, that feeling of being deeply in love. That’s to say, I was missing that feeling of being in love.
Home is where the heart is, and I know that my home will always be with my family and friends. As for everlasting love, it’s out there, waiting to find me. When I do find it, I hope it will ignite a spark within me, fill me with boundless energy, and make me feel truly alive. As for Paris, it will forever hold a special place in my heart. Perhaps someday, it will become my permanent home with my forever love.