The voyage of life

After all the misery I had the past week, I needed time to think, time to renew my energy. This was the main reason I fled to Paris. A friend of mines bought an apartment building over there, but that was only an excuse I used to escape my emotions and environment. Apartment isn't the right word though, it is more like a ruins. I would have taken a picture of it if my camera's battery didn't bail out on me. Anyway, with a lot of work, those apartments can turn into beauties.

Paris has always had a special place in my heart. It is only a four hours drive from my home, but most of all, it is the town that largely contributed to make me the woman I am today. Many important changes have happened in that town and those changes have had a large impact on my life. Those who know me personally might know what I am talking about, for those who don’t, never mind, it is not that important.

I will try to show you why Paris has been this important in my life and maybe then you might understand why I always flee to this city when I have something in mind.

Eiffel Tower - Early forenoon

I believe it was the early 90s, 1990 or 1991 I think. This was my first contact with Paris. Because there was no Belgian surgeon that could help me, my parents ended up in France, looking for one that could help me. It wasn’t a life threatening illness or anything; it was just a little something. So as a little kid, I ended up in this large Paris hospital for a surgery that would change my life drastically. It has brought change in my life, positive change, but it often also made me the centre of derision. So from a young age, I’ve learnt to just let people talk and don’t pay attention to it. It hasn’t always been easy because people can be cruel. But in the end, I should praise myself very lucky because even though I don’t remember much of those months I’ve spend there, I do remember one of the other patients. I believe it was this young Indian girl and she had pins in her head attached to this device so the neck/back didn’t have to carry the weight. It was so much worse than what I had to deal with and yet she was always smiling and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her cry. So if she can be happy with her disabilities, then why couldn’t I?

Eiffel Tower @ night - Apartment (or should I say ruins?) view

Over the years I had to go back at least six to seven times a year for a regular check-up. But the last years, we had found someone closer to home so we didn’t have to drive all the way up to Paris. So that was the end of my relationship with Paris, or so I thought.

As a child, you look at things differently than as a grown-up. I don’t remember much from the early years, only some events/things. The first thing I think about is the reflecting glass before entering Paris capital itself. I still don’t know what the wall was for, but it was made of reflecting mirrors in flashy yellow, green and red. My mom always had to wake me up when we passed the wall because I was totally fascinated by it. Another thing I remember was this snack bar close to the hospital. It really had the best Croque Monsieur’s I ever ate. We always went to eat at that place after our consultation with the surgeon and I don’t think I ever ordered something else than a Croque. My last vague memory was this tower I could overlook from my hospital bed. It had all these colorful designs on it. I do remember there was a tower, but I cannot remember how it really looked like. One thing I do remember vividly. I was around three and a half years old and mom, granddad and I went to the hospital for a check-up. Granddad was outside parking the car and mom and I already went in. Because I still had trouble walking, mom had a buggy for me. She told me to get in the elevator already so she could close the buddy so it would fit in the elevator with us. But when she was closing it, an old couple entered the elevator and instead of holding the door open, they closed it and we went up. Mom was still outside the elevator and I was in it, going up to an unknown destination. My granddad had entered the building and saw it happening. He ran up the stairs and he arrived almost at the same time as I did with the elevator at the ninth floor. I was crying, mom was crying and ever since, I never went into an elevator before the buggy was closed.

When growing up, things you loved as a kid loose their charms. When I saw the glass wall again last Friday, I smiled because it made me think about how much I adored it as a kid, but I didn’t feel the same admiration anymore. Sunday I decided it was time for a Croque Monsieur, but I was so disappointed when I noticed that the snack bar was no longer there and now served as what I think looked like an illegal drug pawn. That tower looked kind of grey and not so colorful, or maybe they just cleaned up the graffiti. This Paris wasn’t the same anymore as when I last left it. I wasn’t the same anymore neither. Paris watched me grow from a little kid to a young teenager, and now it witnessed me as a young woman. It feels like the circle as complete.

We both changed and I think I was somewhat disappointed at first because I had surrealistic expectations. But now I am happy I returned to the wonderful town with its Eifel Tower, Louvre and Champs Elysées. It made me realize that everything changes; feelings, towns and people. Too much change at once is never pleasant, but we all need change. I think I put a step in the right direction this weekend. Accepting that change is happening and that you cannot fight change, no matter how hard you try is a big accomplishment…