THINKER, DOER, DRINKER

The thinker girl. That’s probably what I should be called, what I should call this blog. My mind does not stop. In the central courtyard of Les Beaux-Arts de Paris is where I find myself right now and I need to put pen to paper to empty my mind, absorb the surroundings and really appreciate all that I’ve just seen because this place is nothing short of magnificent. The site of Les Beaux-Arts de Paris is rich in history, the address had been the monastery of the Petits Augustins, then the Musée Des Monuments Français before being turned in to a school which by that point due to expansion was a sprawling site on the left bank. It was 1648 that the Académie des Beaux-Arts was founded by Cardinal Mazarin and in 1863 that it gained independence from the government to become L’Ecole des Beaux-Arts. Many celebrated artists went on to study here, walked the same floors I just placed my feet- Degas, Delacroix, Moreau, Renoir to name a few. Rodin was famously declined on there occasions and Monet refused to attend due to their rigid teachings. This is where people still hone their skills and give their life to their craft. I have welled up and gulped down the lump in my throat more times than I dare to admit in the last hour or so. Though I’ll be truthful this is not unusual, we often cry over exquisite food and architecture in our family, safe to say there’s a real appreciation of beauty in all its forms among us. I can’t and don’t want to try and describe the interior, there’s visuals for that instead… 

Now I’ve parked myself in a true French bar in the 6eme, full of colourful characters with thick, Gitanes heavy accents. Their words are a husky mumble and I can barely understand their musings but I love it all the same. This bar is giving me such joy, and it may become my go to weekend spot. It’s taken all my courage to walk in to this place, I meandered along the street before the desire for people watching and a (filled to the brim) glass of red took over my anxieties and I am so thankful it did. I want to live in Paris, France for that matter, as a French person. Don’t get me wrong, I love a decent cup of hipster worthy status coffee as much as the next person but nothing comes close to the community like feel of an old tabac or a cramped wine bar filled to the brim with memorabilia, photographs and old posters. Oh and one that serves good, really good wine, even cheapest on the wine menu good wine - the wine is good. This is the France I am here for. I am also here for the wonderful conversation I have had with a greatly spirited, elderly gentleman. For me this is how to learn, to experience these things, to talk to people no matter their age, profession- en fait, no matter who they are! 

Premierement… I have no idea what I was going to write next as it seems I have made a new friend in the French bloke, he’s been making his way around the bar doing ‘faire la bise’ and before I knew it he was again stood beside me asking me about English writers and the likes. I’m not sure I want to leave this little haven and I feel like the only thing I am to do next is order a second glass. When I woke this morning feeling bleary eyed and not much else I had no idea that it was to turn in to such a great day, and this moment in time is just the cherry on the cake. A second glass of wine in; nods and smiles from who I presume are the regulars; stumbling through conversations about books; and being surrounded by lives well lived and still enjoyed. 

It’s really not even been a spectacular day, I’ve been on my own but it’s been wholesomely enjoyable and I really need little else. It’s precisely what I had in the Charente and that’s by far what I enjoyed most of all, it’s precisely what I want out of life. It is too easy to be trapped by the need and want of Paris, of life, but there’s no need, no necessity. Paris is here, there are people trying to make a means to an end while still enjoying life (interlude, I’ve been handed my fourth bowl of bar snack and I’m grateful as two glasses is plenty - sorry Jane, my lessons have slipped…) without all of the top restaurants, designer clothes and obscenely priced housing. Get down to the core and there’s people who love people, nothing more than a café or verre de vin and conversation that excites them and isn’t that joyful?!

On that not, a bientôt mes amis, dinner calls.