We’re here, in Paris!
And also, we’re here, travelling!
After almost two years for me, two and a half for him. It’s a big deal, and through the fatigue in the aftermath of a nine-hour flight, kilometres walked in two airports, trains and shuttles and walk along Avenue St. Germain, Rue du Four, Cherche-Midi. .. . to warm and wonderful greetings in a hotel where we’re treated like long-lost friends . . . through this fatigue, as I said, and the jet-lag (although we did manage to sleep 7 or 8 hours last night, almost unbroken sleep.) . . through all this, emotions rise and fall and cycle, moods hit — bursts of elation, then, seemingly only moments later, drops into flatness, threats of depression. Confusion muddles the joy, which nonetheless prevails, and I set aside thoughts and feelings to process later.
I’ve experienced this in travels before Covid-19 as well. The adrenaline that fuels us through the many small and large tensions of flying across time zones and into new languages, routines, expectations, the adrenaline that holds us up during long line-ups waiting to show documents to border police, waiting to buy tickets for the RER into the city. That adrenaline heightens the fist-pumping that celebrates having made it here, that carries us gratefully through our first meal in another city, and we begin to relax, sipping our glasses of red wine. We de-brief a bit, comment happily or ruefully about changes we’ve noticed here, marvel to each other at how genuinely pleased hotel staff were to see us again.
Gradually, the pauses between our comments grow longer as we each turn slightly inward, both of us concentrating on our food. Plates empty, our comfortable silence lets us enjoy the rich contrapuntal play of the many voices surrounding us, the clinking of cutlery, clunking and tinkling of plates and glasses, pouring of water or wine all amplifying for us the delight of being surrounded by French, a blanket of sound to dip in and out of depending on our eavesdropping energy.
By this point, in fact, all energy has dropped, so we pay the addition and head back to the hotel and have that dangerous but delicious afternoon nap, the jet-lagged afternoon nap that one risks waking from at 1 or 2 a.m. all slept out and nowhere (open) to go. . . .
We manage to avoid that fate, though, and wake about 3:30 or 4, late afternoon. . . to find all adrenaline gone. In its wake, flatness. Questions, even, about what we’re here, why we’ve come all this way, will it be worth it, questions about travel and privilege and Covid and family who live so far apart. . . Depression threatens, and the threat, as ever before, is accompanied by dismay that it should be a possibility. The ingratitude!
Luckily, and just in time, I recognize and remember — and reassure and restore myself with a 25-minute yoga practice. Movement and breathing, so often the self-care that serves.
And getting outside.
So we walk. First to the Seine (magic words, still), then across to walk through Le Jardin des Tuileries. The clouds clear, the sun comes out, it’s that happy magic hour (or two) before dinner when most of Paris seems to have taken to their green spaces.
And whether it’s been here for years or not, we see for the first time (could we have missed it before?) these magnificent rows of hedges, manicured into crisp geometrics and interestingly swollen curves. The way they carve such intriguing pathways in the lawn, spaces that defy vision so that children can turn a corner and disappear. So tantalizing for a Two or a Ten or a Teen. . . Honestly, it would have had me on edge as a parent when mine were small, but watching the antics now, hearing the squeals, from my objective perspective, such a treat.
The magnificent architecture of centuries becomes a mere backdrop for children playing soccer or hide-and-seek or testing their sprinting speed; for couples sharing a baguette and bottle of rosé on a chair by a pond, or sitting on a bench under an allée of trees, or contemplating a newly installed sculpture; for families; for accountants, lawyers, bank tellers and retail clerks who sink into a metal park chair for as many minutes as it takes the workday to dissipate. . .
And two visiting Canadians watch sculptures float next to a toy sailboat as the sun flares toward its setting.
Funny the way those 11,000 steps, the 6 kilometres walked, could be as restorative, in their own way, as that necessary nap.
And writing this a day later, after our second day in Paris, I can tell you that the Reset took. More walking (14,000 kilometres, so far, and 9 kilometres — but we still haven’t gone out for dinner) and simple slow-paced pleasures. Not sure how much time I’ll find to post while we’re away, but I’m taking photos and making notes, so eventually . . . If you want to see what we’re up to each day, there’s likely something on my Instagram.
And we can chat, as well, in the comments below, although I might take longer than usual to respond. Maybe you’ll share a first-day travel story as well. Maybe you have your own experience with that anti-climactic, post-flight response; maybe you’ve found your own solutions. Or maybe you’re just sighing at your own memories of having seen Paris, or nurturing dreams that someday you’ll see it for yourself. Or just thinking of your own travel plans. . . .
Thinking of you,
Wish you were here,
xo,
f (from Paris!!)
That was a lovely read Frances . Have a great holiday & make the very most of it – I know you will
Author
Pleased you enjoyed it, Wendy, and thank you!
Wonderful to read your travel post again! I’m so happy for you,in Paris again!
I’m usually very nervous the first day in another city during the travel (but,not last week in Vienna! Yay!)- it became better when I started to recognize it
Enjoy every minute! The flattness will cease….
Dottoressa
Author
You got to Vienna! Yay! Yay! Yay!! — and I agree, it’s better when we recognize it, and we know it will pass. . .
Oh, yes! That feeling of why did I leave my lovely home and life, and for what. It last for one day and two sleeps maximum. It progresses to quickly contemplating never going home again, and realizing how fortunate we are. It ends with me in tears saying, no, I’m not going home, pleading, let’s just change our ticket and extend our stay.
To repeated every year when we land in France….sigh.
Ali
Author
You got it! Exactement!
Lovely post. I also experience feelings on the first day of a trip which pretty much amount to wishing I’d stayed home. But after another day or so I’m ready to enjoy. Thanks for writing about the experience.
Author
I’m pleased to hear it resonated with you. Thanks for letting me know!
I am so happy for you.
Author
😊
A wonderful post. Happy for you. But envious too. And I feel small even admitting that. Not sure when we will ever travel again. I know that sounds like an overreaction. But Stu seems not to want to even consider that prospect at the moment. The thought of not planning a big trip ever again makes me feel ineffably sad, and not a little cheated of what my planned retirement was to be. But we have been lucky to have travelled so many wonderful places already. And I’m trying to focus on that. Ha. Clearly it’s not working.
Sue, maybe we can travel together xoxox
Author
I think many of us (in our demographic) are wondering if this hiatus and pushed us much nearer to the end of our travelling days. We were already considering that possibility, but these strange (almost) two years have made it harder to ignore. And travel is definitely tougher now. I think that whether or not we have a few trips left, changing focus “just in case” is the wise approach. But hard to reconcile some days. . .
We spent last week in Scotland and it felt like a real break, a proper trip away, even though it was only a few hours (beautiful) drive and, yes, the walking, the eating and drinking, the not hurrying – all very restorative. Also reading books in companionable silence. But I do recall the post-flight flagging spirits on previous long-haul trips, compounded by that vital afternoon sleep that can leave you waking confused and downhearted. I hope the fine autumn weather continues so you can carry on being flaneur(e)s.
Author
You’re very lucky to have so many good options for a really convincing change of pace and place within a manageable drive!
And thank you — so far we’ve had a work-week of fine-weather days! Very fortunate!
We are currently in the last days of a six week stay in Spain. Your description of your first days in France echo the ones we experienced here. All the excitement and anxiety of planning then making the trip finally crashed down on our shoulders. We took much longer to adjust than ever before, jet lag seem to just continue on and on. Every little cough or feeling of tiredness, awoke fears of covid. Finally, we settled down, worked through the feelings and jet lag to experience a wonderful stay in Seville and now in Madrid. Seeing the cities back to their almost regular pace of life, enjoying the freedom of a place almost free of covid and making new memories in old favorite places has been reinvigorating for us both. I wish the same for you.
Author
Lovely! Six weeks means you have ample time to bounce back and enjoy. We’re happily adjusted now, and managing to keep up (almost!) with our g’daughter in Italy😊
I wonder if it’s part of the ageing process, as I’ve felt that slight slump at the beginning of a stay in foreign parts – and sometimes even here in the UK too. So much effort goes into the arrangement and the journey, particularly as I usually make the arrangements, navigate etc. And there’s the odd gentle squabble about minor points – do we turn right here or left? – do we have time to pick up a paper before catching the train? It’s an emotional and – increasingly – a physical investment as luggage is carried up steps and we try to get our heads around another language. But I agree with you about giving it a bit of time. Enjoy your stay.
Elizabeth
Author
I’m encouraged to know I’m not the only one…and it was only that first day. Definitely, for me, more noticeable with age but I think I remember something akin to homesickness that would hit earlier in a trip when I was younger…
Thank you for the lovely photos of Paris. Feeling a bit bittersweet. happy to see the city still with all it’s beauty. Sad because I will probably not see it again. On my first full day in France in 2016 our tour stopped at the obligatory site of the Eiffel Tower. None of my companions on this trip had chosen this particular day trip, I was alone. I wandered by myself into a park across the way, there were children playing, a man sitting on a bench reading a book. In a puddle surrounding a statue a small flock of birds was taking a bath. behind me were charming old buildings. I imagined living there, amid all this beauty. and then of course it was time to get back on the bus. those images remained with me. a few weeks later, I walked by the park near me. different of course, but there were gardens, old trees, in a pavilion a young woman was teaching a little girl a spirited dance, Spanish I think. a women with a stroller resting on a bench. I thought of my birdbath, where sparrows come to drink and splash. In some ways my yearning was for something already had. I am hoping that I might have another opportunity to travel, grateful that I had the experiences I did. I hope you have a wonderful trip.
Author
I understand the poignancy —but I love the way you are kindled by this precise sweet memory….and let it catch flame to warm another place, closer to home. Diana Athill writes of this in one of her books close to her end, of revisiting travel memories, as entertainment and solace when she could no longer travel physically. I try to practice this sometimes, preparation for the inevitable
how beautifully said, ” a memory catching flame to warm another place”
Joanne
I have never paid attention to how I feel the first day, something I should remedy.
I hope you have a wonderful time and please say hello to our mutual friend. Thank you for the beautiful photos, I feel so happy that Paris still exists.
Author
You were with us in Paris, believe me😘
My earlier post disappeared. By now, you will be in Paris mode. Your familiar hotel and neighbourhood! I’m always out of sorts after pretrip restless night, too long at the airport and time change. As I get older, it’s harder. I’m actually better by myself. Others can interpret my mood as criticism or irritation. It just is.
Worst first day was arriving at midnight in Mexico City. Hôtel lost my reservation. A porter helped me find a hotel. I almost cried.
Author
Took me so long to reply that now we’re in a Rome mode, which is also very good.
I would absolutely have cried in those circumstances—you’re a very impressive solo traveller!
J’ai adoré vous lire (j’ai presque tout compris!) Je comprends également ces premieres heures où la fatigue surement , un nouvel environnement, l’excitation des preparatifs qui est retombée dans la realité des aeroports, du stress des deplacements dans une ville etrangere, font que vous vous sentez desorientée “in the middle of nowhere”. Mais heureusement Paul vous accompagne et on retrouve vite de la force et plus de securité à deux (cela me manque je crois..)Ce premier jour est passé, profitez de votre sejour avant la belle Italie. Au plaisir de continuer mes belles lectures, accompagnées de vos jolies photos, et qui sait , peut etre un jour souhaiterez-vous prendre un autre train gare Montparnasse pour Nantes !…
Author
E difficile risponderti in francese adesso che siamo in Roma! 😉 Ma so che parli (e leggi, ovviamente) italiano. . . E adesso posso dirti che ne vale la pena, viaggiare per vedere i propri cari. . . .
e si, spero, un giorno a Nantes, brindare insieme 😉
Leaving the very familiar for the not-so-familiar draws out the “what am I doing here?” and “will it all work out?” thoughts for me, too. Pushing through with walks in the fresh air, and yoga help to regain balance, as you have so aptly expressed.
On our first trip to Paris together in 2007 we walked and walked to overcome the urge to sleep. We went to bed early and fell fast asleep to be awakened some time in the night to the sound of water rushing through the streets. I got up to investigate and saw the street cleaners at work. It was only then that the reality of where I was hit me, with the shadowed buildings, narrow streets, and the water flowing.
Enjoy. We’re all traveling vicariously with you.
Author
I can picture that nighttime scene exactly, Lorrie! Doesn’t it just feel like a precious secret to hug to yourself and enjoy, when you experience it? xo
So happy for you. You write with such honesty and insight about the swings and roundabouts of feelings when travelling. While some destinations like Paris, Rome, Athens and London are still appealing to me, the process of getting there is daunting and the stamina to tour all the attractions and sample the experiences has waned. Nevertheless, I love following your adventures. Thank you for this marvellous post and the magical photos.
Author
I feel that waning as well, Maria, and for me a way to cope is simply to drop all sense of responsibility for seeing anything other than what suits when I’m actually “on the ground.” . . . And, of course, the motivation of following a younger person’s pace works for a few days! 😉
For me, the travel moods work exactly the other way round: in the last few days before leaving unsually I am so exhausted from alle the preparations and lack of sleep (particularly if there is plane travel ahead) that I find myself thinking: Why am I doing this? What if I just shoved all my things back into their cupboards and wardrobes and took a quiet holiday at home? Of course I don’t. On arriving, at the moment of touchdown in fact, I feel immensely relieved, and that positive emotion is stronger than any tiredness. But obviously my fear of flying changes the experimental setup here.
Author
I’m not sure our responses are as opposite as you think. I have all that travel prep and anxiety beforehand and absolutely at touchdown (well, truly, after Border Police, getting train to hotel, etc). . . feel that same elation, relief. But then this added emotional twist after the fatigue has been slated by a short nap. . . when the adrenaline is depleted, and not really needed any longer.
I’m lucky not to feel that fear of flying, though. I know that can be debilitating and admire you for pushing past. Plus I’m glad you have the civilized option in Europe of being able to take the train so many places.
How wonderful to be steeped in that beauty again, and what you describe so eloquently is the ‘mood’ factor of jet lag. It’s classic but it still smacks hard. Once both of us were towed under for four days. Gentle exercise and walking in natural light really help but it’s clear that jet lag messes with every system and is not to be shrugged off. Also, as we put years on us as well as miles, it shows up more.
Author
That’s my solution as well, trying to get outside, moving, as much as possible that first day. . .