How am I supposed to pack and clean in this heat?
I can barely stand to touch my laptop, my wrists are hot and wet.
I can't do this. I can't type any longer. I was going to do a massive, final blog post but there's no way.
Basically: I'm getting the Eurostar on Wednesday, I don't know how I feel about leaving, here's some more photos I uploaded last week from the 'human zoo'. Me and Julia went back and broke into a different pavilion, it used to be the Tunisian Pavilion (as in Tunisian people lived here and French people would go and stare at them through the railings) but since then it has also been used as a kind of community centre- there were pieces of paper pinned to a bulletin board from 1989, the year I was born. What community lived there? Why did they leave in such a hurry that they didn't even take their phone?
Also, here' some photos from la Petite Ceinture, my favourite place in Paris. I might make the last one my new LBM profile picture, seeing as my current one isn't actually me, if you hadn't already guessed...
That's my bag by the way, in the first photo. There's something about a bag lying on railway tracks that makes my heart stop. It actually makes me feel sick to look at it, I think they did a railway safety campaign a few years ago using similar images, it must have made an impression...
This is it, I'm actually leaving. Thanks to everyone who reads my blog. I know I don't have thousands of fans but I can't believe how many I do have. I never thought I would make friends through my blog, or find a job that I stayed at for two years. I want to keep blogging after I leave Paris but not sure if it will be the same. I'll always write anyway, I know sometimes I swear a lot and my grammar veers on the vernacular side and I sometimes tell long-winded, boring stories about getting a scabby nose.... But I have wanted to be a writer since I could write, so if I can't think of anything to blog about perhaps I will start putting up bits of writing.
Sigh. I wanted to my final post to be very poetic and nostalgic, but it's so fucking hot...
To sum up: I wanted to live in Paris- for No Reason- and I did, for three years.
Sep 2010 - July 2013.
So not quite three years, but hey, this is my blog... who's going to argue with me?
I know I'll miss Paris and obviously my friends that are staying here, but I'll also miss the person I thought I could be.
Last weekend I was in a taxi with Julia and her friend from work and we were on our way to Social Club and the taxi driver was letting us smoke in his taxi and was playing loud music for us and chatting away... I wished I really belonged there, in that moment, but it was borrowed. I can't really speak French and I only have two or three French friends, even after three years.
I always knew I might stay in Paris for more than a year but I thought it would be easy to slip into a Real Life. I don't feel like I have a Real Life in Paris- I live in a chambre de bonne that is provided for me by a family that I work for, as an au pair- no matter how much I pretend I'm not an au pair because it's only two hours a day and I don't live with the family and I worked as a waitress and a teacher as well...
This blog post has ended up sounding really melancholy and I'm not sad at all- I'm excited for Secret Garden Party, then to travel around seeing friends and family...
I have no idea what is going to happen next. I really wish my life were a book, so I could skip to the end, but it isn't, so I'll just have to wait and see.
I won't say this is my last blog post from Paris because it might not be, but just in case it is, let me quickly say what I spent my last few days doing so I'll never forget:
- being pleasantly surprised by Social Club because it wasn't too full and the bouncers were nice
- finally going on la Petite Ceinture with Julia, leaving a srawberry tart for the Romany family that sleep at the secret entrance
- taking Julia to the colonial garden and wandering round the eerie, new build offices where one person was working in one room, then seeing white tents hidden in the bushes, secret experiments?
- going back to la Petite Ceinture with Shayna and walking as far as we could, then trying to escape because we thought two guys were following us. I leapt over the fence but Shayna stayed on top of the fence, refusing to come down, until the two guys caught up with us and helped her down
- meeting Amo for lunch and not getting home until six in the morning, very drunk and slightly embarrassed about spending the night in Chatelet dancing to shit music with 22 year old Australian boys on their hols
- having a water fight with the ten year old and the three year old in the park and going home soaking wet
- walking for hours and hours, along the river, listening to MC Solaar 'La belle et le bad boy' because three years ago I told myself I would learn all the words and my time is almost up...
I know it's cheesy and no French people think it's cool, but here you go anyway, I still love it: