The plan was to go to the Loire Valley and visit the chateaux, castles, and wineries.
Instead, we ended up in a quiet little town outside of Paris that was a little bit shabby and entirely closed -down for Sunday. To anyone familiar with French cities, it would seem like an altogether unremarkable community.
But today ended up being one of my favorite days in France so far.
I've been aching to get out of the city, even if just for a day or a few hours. Paris is a beautiful place; as in any major metropolitan area though, it rarely feels totally peaceful here. I've been in Paris for a while now, and this weekend I was ready to get away from the concrete, the noise, the lights, and the tourists. I've noticed that what I crave the most when I'm in another place for a long period of time is a sense of every-day-ness. It's almost as if seeing and realizing that someone is at home somewhere is enough to satiate my own hunger for home. I know that the daily life of plenty of people takes place in the white-tiled Metro tunnels and busy streets of Paris, but I guess what I mean by "every-day" is life more like mine. and I'm not exactly a city girl..(yet!)
Anyway, today I got a little taste of "every-day" life. After deciding not to go to the Loire valley, Faith, Zoe, and I decided (since we were already at the station) to just take an RER train to a random place called Trillport.
We eventually convinced ourselves that Trillport was going to be THE hidden gem of French holiday destinations.
Fate would decide, however, that we would never make it to Trillport. Instead, we had to get off the train in a little town not far from of our desired destination. There was literally nothing of any official interest for visitors in this town. It consisted of the necessities: a Tabac, a couple bars/resturants, a boulangerie, and phamacie, and a coffiuer. As we walked through town, we felt as if everyone (which was probably like five total people) was watching us. They probably wondered what these crazy American girls with their cameras and umbrellas were doing strolling through their town.
Passing through the one main street of the town, we came to a river (actually what we thought was the Seine, but we later found was a man-made aqua duct that ran on-top of the Seine). The banks were green and damp from the rain, with a winding dirt path running along the waters edge. We wandered down the path for a while, talking and enjoying the fresh air while the rain pattered against our umbrellas and rustled in the branches of the chestnut trees.
We decided that this particular time and place, in some random little town on a rainy Sunday afternoon, was a unique experience, and in that lies its beauty. We felt a sense that not many people had walked that path, or stood in that particular meadow, or crossed that same blue bridge.
In Paris, there too many beautiful places to count; part of their beauty, though, is that they are shared by thousands of people everyday, from all over the world. This place had a different type of significance—it is an experience that we could keep for ourselves. The town itself may not have been anything special, but we made a wonderful Sunday afternoon out of it; for that it will always be a little bit special, if only for us.
I still wish I knew what was in Trillport though!
Instead, we ended up in a quiet little town outside of Paris that was a little bit shabby and entirely closed -down for Sunday. To anyone familiar with French cities, it would seem like an altogether unremarkable community.
But today ended up being one of my favorite days in France so far.
I've been aching to get out of the city, even if just for a day or a few hours. Paris is a beautiful place; as in any major metropolitan area though, it rarely feels totally peaceful here. I've been in Paris for a while now, and this weekend I was ready to get away from the concrete, the noise, the lights, and the tourists. I've noticed that what I crave the most when I'm in another place for a long period of time is a sense of every-day-ness. It's almost as if seeing and realizing that someone is at home somewhere is enough to satiate my own hunger for home. I know that the daily life of plenty of people takes place in the white-tiled Metro tunnels and busy streets of Paris, but I guess what I mean by "every-day" is life more like mine. and I'm not exactly a city girl..(yet!)
Anyway, today I got a little taste of "every-day" life. After deciding not to go to the Loire valley, Faith, Zoe, and I decided (since we were already at the station) to just take an RER train to a random place called Trillport.
We eventually convinced ourselves that Trillport was going to be THE hidden gem of French holiday destinations.
Fate would decide, however, that we would never make it to Trillport. Instead, we had to get off the train in a little town not far from of our desired destination. There was literally nothing of any official interest for visitors in this town. It consisted of the necessities: a Tabac, a couple bars/resturants, a boulangerie, and phamacie, and a coffiuer. As we walked through town, we felt as if everyone (which was probably like five total people) was watching us. They probably wondered what these crazy American girls with their cameras and umbrellas were doing strolling through their town.
Passing through the one main street of the town, we came to a river (actually what we thought was the Seine, but we later found was a man-made aqua duct that ran on-top of the Seine). The banks were green and damp from the rain, with a winding dirt path running along the waters edge. We wandered down the path for a while, talking and enjoying the fresh air while the rain pattered against our umbrellas and rustled in the branches of the chestnut trees.
We decided that this particular time and place, in some random little town on a rainy Sunday afternoon, was a unique experience, and in that lies its beauty. We felt a sense that not many people had walked that path, or stood in that particular meadow, or crossed that same blue bridge.
In Paris, there too many beautiful places to count; part of their beauty, though, is that they are shared by thousands of people everyday, from all over the world. This place had a different type of significance—it is an experience that we could keep for ourselves. The town itself may not have been anything special, but we made a wonderful Sunday afternoon out of it; for that it will always be a little bit special, if only for us.
I still wish I knew what was in Trillport though!
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