Returning To The City Of Lights
On memories old and new
“Shit!” I muttered to myself underneath my breath.
I had stayed late at the jam session and wasn’t sure if I was going to make it back in time to the St. Ouen apartment I was staying at while the metro was still running.
I was at Le Caveau des Oubliettes, the stage bathed in a soft blended glow of multicolored lighting. It was one of the Parisian jazz clubs I visited that hosted a jam (another being Le Caveau de la Huchette), notable due to its underground stone architecture that made for an intriguing and intimate venue.
After patiently waiting my turn to play, I remember jamming on the song “Sunny”, a 1963 soul jazz song written by Bobby Hebb, seated on the house keyboard stage left.
Upon realizing the late hour, I rushed hurriedly to retrace my steps back to the metro station, uncertain if I was going to catch the train in time.
Reminiscing
As of this writing, it was almost 14 years ago to the day I returned from a nearly five-month solo Eurotrip that started in early July 2009 with a one-way flight to Paris.
It was one of my formative coming-of-age adventures during which I experientially confronted some unexamined and long-held beliefs around my worldview and identity.
It showed me the touching capacity for human kindness and generosity while I couchsurfed and eventually hitchhiked my way around the continent.
During the trip, I also learned how to surrender, embrace spontaneity and ask for help. I also found myself in risky situations where I had to act with courage, acknowledge the extraverted part of me that's deeply curious about people, and earned some measure of self-confidence.
Even the context of the trip was remarkable. In retrospect, my dad had made me a wager rigged entirely in my favor out of paternal encouragement. He challenged me to learn Rimsky-Korsakov’s Flight Of The Bumblebee in exchange for the airplane ticket. There was no downside.
This time around, I’m heading out to Egypt, with a 3-day layover in Paris before proceeding to Cairo.
As my departure approaches, I am filled with nostalgia and would like to share some memories that still linger.
Back to the story.
As I descended the steps into the Paris metro, its signature scent unpleasantly wafted across my nostrils. I broke into a run and sighed with relief as I likely caught the last train of the night.
My reprieve was short-lived as I still had one more train to catch.
When I exited at the transfer station, I heard a PA announcement warning of the last train in service for the night. I dashed and wound my way through the underground white brick tunnels of the Parisian metro, following the signs to Line 13 with its cyan symbol. It was mostly empty at this late hour.
As I made it to the platform in a huff, I soon realized I had missed the last train.
Somewhat defeated, I surveyed around to find a fellow stranded commuter sharing the same predicament, a well-dressed young woman with dark, short-cropped hair.
Like a scene out of a romantic comedy, we strike up a conversation and she suggests sharing a cab. We connect over our shared Eurasian heritage and my recent arrival. Seemingly out of the blue, she unexpectedly invited me to a small gathering she planned to host later that week before the driver dropped her off and continued to my destination.
That Friday, I made my way to the gathering, meeting a slew of her international friends from Hong Kong, Germany and her sister visiting from Copenhagen. After a hotpot dinner and drinks, many of us headed to a party on a barge-turned-club on the river Seine. I recall staying up nearly all night dancing. As the party died down and we had had our fill of revelry, I recall stumbling back into the city in a half-drunk, sleep-deprived stupor witnessing an unexpected morning cavalcade. We had stayed awake long enough for the metro stations to open again.
I could not have imagined a more unexpected turn of events.
Here’s another memory that underlines the baffling happenstance borne of the courage to follow one’s impulses and extend to their fellow human beings.
A Series Of Interesting Events
On the plane en route to Paris, I remember noticing a man with a guitar and hat, a fellow musician. Upon landing, I made a point to connect with him at the baggage carousel. We briefly connected and he informed me he was going on a self-organized European tour and let me know where his next gig was.
At the show, I happened to sit across from a middle-aged Asian woman. We hit it off over our shared appreciation for jazz. From there, she offered advice on finding venues and concerts to check out in the city. Sometime later, I met her daughters, one of whom had spent some time in Canada not that far from where I grew up. She invited me to celebrate her 50th birthday hosted by a friend of hers in Le Mans, a city about a two-hour drive from Paris. We left very early in the morning before sunrise and even then traffic was incredibly congested – it was the beginning of August when seemingly the entire country takes a holiday. Some other details I recall – her friend was a former trapezist and the partaking of a 20-year old bottle of red wine from her late father’s cellar. I remember that with a tinge of guilt as I felt I had no palette and business enjoying such a fine vintage.
On another occasion, I remember sharing a ride with her to Toulouse in the south of France where she went to visit her brother. From there, I set out on an adventure within an adventure of my own, visiting Carcasonne, Marseille, and Barcelona before attempting to hitchhike my way back to Toulouse to rendezvous with her to share a ride back to Paris.
Though I failed to make it back in time before she left, I unexpectedly ended up finding some other Couchsurfers in Toulouse while trying to meet up with someone at a pub from a post made on the Couchsurfing forum. It dawned on me I had no idea what this person looked like, so I canvassed the entire pub to see if they were familiar with Couchsurfing. Note that this was a time before the ubiquity of smartphones and high-speed internet. I was rocking a hand-me-down Blackberry with very basic call and text functionality. I spent an extra couple of days in Toulouse before another attempt at hitchhiking to Paris.
To wrap up this reminiscing, all of this is to say that braving the risk of human connection and surrendering to spontaneity has led to some of the most unexpected and memorable experiences of my life.
I encourage anyone to take more chances and risks connecting as it may very well change your life in ways you don’t suspect.
Stay open. Stay curious.
Who knows what awaits me this time around?
I look forward to finding out.
Man I loved these stories Tai. Your point is so well made, how fulfilling it is to enter the friendship of humanity by exposing yourself to the world at large, trusting the process, and adventuring. Dipping into the stories of many other authors feels like a version of that for me. Not quite the same, but a somewhat acceptable substitute that scratches a little of the same itch. It was nice traveling with you this week. : )