In about a week I expect to be on my way to spending two months (April and May, 2010) in Paris. There is no compelling reason:
- I’m not going there to be with someone.
- I don’t have a job there.
- I’m not writing a book about France, nor taking a course.
- I’m not even a fugitive from justice.
I do speak a little French (and read more). I enjoy Paris, especially now that the legendary Parisian froideur seems to have melted. I’m quite self-sufficient, and I enjoy the stimulation and challenge of travel, as well as the familiar routines of home.
Breaking out of familiar routines, and seeing whether new, nourishing ways of living are possible for me is probably the most important single reason for the trip. I’m realistic about the likelihood that I will simply replicate my questionable habits in a new physical location, with trivial variations. But if I just continue those comfortable habits at home the chance that I will discover anything new is even less.
The choice of Paris was inspired in part by a lovely, poignant little book by Edmund White, Our Paris: Sketches from Memory and in part by ten days I spent there with my nephew in July, 2008.
One commitment I have made to this project is to blog every day, even if nothing much has happened. So check back around April 1 if you would like to follow my journey.