can one survive on baguettes and cappuccinos alone? find out here!
no. no, one cannot.
Bonsoir, my lil cutie patooties..
I just want you all to know that I’m currently risking the life of this laptop by writing Circle Back because I’m writing it on the plane back to New York and have it on the little table that lowers from the chair in front of me and the person sitting in that chair will not stop reclining and it keeps hitting the laptop and I worry that if it goes just a little bit further it’s going to crush the laptop. So just making it known how much I care about getting this newsletter to you on time, and it is a l w a y s on time.
My aunt gave me these over-the-counter sleeping pills for both of my flights during this trip. They’re supposed to give you four hours of solid sleep, but both times, I’ve only gotten 3.5 hours of sleep because I am too strong for them. So here I am, post-3.5-hour nap, reminiscing on the last nine days in Parith, Franth.
While one may believe they can live off baguettes, wine, espresso, and cigarettes, one cannot. This was a life I somewhat lived whilst residing in Paris (re: cigarettes — mom and dad I’m just kidding …), and it made me see the world in a different way — a very woozy and wobbly way. The girl needed her nutrients, but the city was not so vegan-friendly. After six years of veganism, I have moved away from the processed vegan replacements; an impossible burger is now something I have at 2 am after a night out. Either way, the vegan restaurants that served mostly processed foods were on opposite ends of the city. I wasn’t trying to do that. I considered just being vegetarian on this trip, but that was actually harder. The “vegetarian” salads and pasta and sauces all still had pieces of bacon or [insert meat here], and that was something I wasn’t willing to give into. AND THAT’S OKAY. I cooked when I could, grabbed a banana on walks, and lived on ~ good vibes ~ and that kept me going for Almost Two Weeks! This life isn’t meant for the weak. That’s something to think about, Le Penseur.
Back to the fashion!
The fashion in this city is so absurd. It’s important for all of us to know that there are people out there who are way too cool. It has to be a tough and exhausting life they live. They inspired me to buy loafers; I really wasn’t sure I was gonna become that person. They convinced me, though — the Parisiens. But it’s fine; their drinks are so cheap that it all evened out. And now I have loafers. And I, too, am exhausted by how stylish I have become. No one let me near a Hermès store.
It’s always a nice wake-up call traveling to countries that are older than the United States because we get reminded of how beautiful old architecture is. Americans love to tear down gorgeous buildings and put up ugly ones — Chris Pratt, in this moment, I’m speaking directly to you. I couldn’t stop strolling through Le Marais; it was so beautiful and fun to wander. There were mixes of high-end brands and little thrifts that sold old rings and books and shoes, and the restaurants and cafés felt the exact same. While I was moseying along one day, my mom sent me the address to an apartment my grandfather used to own, and it happened to be on a street I had been walking down every single day:
So slay of him, for real. He never once stayed there. Another slay, somehow.
It feels really weird visiting spaces that deceased family members have also visited. Even though he never did see this apartment in person, knowing his name was on it was nostalgic (?) for some reason — like I was visiting my grandpa in a place unknown to me, but it made it feel like Paris was so familiar.
I’ve been having a lot of dreams about my grandma — my mom’s mom — recently. The older I get, the more I look like her, and now I’m finally starting to see it. My grandma, Nikki, was the coolest. She was so funny, so smart, so beautiful (and I look like her … hey, I’m just stating scientific facts), and so chic. I was 12 when she died, so I have moments where I get super upset thinking about how she never even got to see me become a teenager, let alone an adult. But every day, things remind me of her — books, art, music, bags, jewelry; anything I’ve grown to enjoy.
27 years ago, my grandma visited Paris on her own. I had just been born several months prior, and she did something that I’ve always admired about her — exactly what she wanted. She worked so hard to get where she was. She had my mom at 21, dropped out of school, and then went back to school to become a nurse. She took care of my mom and put her in — what she believed at the time — was the right school for a Deaf child. She was so young and so brave and so, so diligent. She did what she wanted, and that included things like becoming a nurse and going to Paris on her own. There is no way in hell that I’d become a nurse, but at 27, I have now gone to Paris on my own.
When she was there, she bought this pretty little bracelet with a bunch of drawings of shoes on it that I wear today and wore while I was there these past two weeks. It was its first time back where it was made, and to me, it felt like I was bringing Nikki back, too. As I walked around, I kept having these annoying moments of sadness because I kept thinking about her and how I didn’t get enough time with her. I just wanted a sign. I wanted her to show up across the street and say, “KERRY LOOK OUT THERE’S A FRENCH MIME PICKPOCKETING YOU.” That is all I wanted to hear from my grandma — that’s all anyone wants to hear from their grandma.
I kept looking at the two photos I had of her from her Paris trip. Maybe if I could find the spots I know she stood in, I’d feel sOmEtHiNg. Of course, the other photo was of her in front of the Eiffel Tower — also known as the least touristy spot in the city … in the world. So I went there.
The Paris Olympics are being built from one end of the Eiffel Tower to the other, so I couldn’t get to the exact spot where my grandma was in the photo. But when I got there, I sat on a bench with my baguette (my meal for the day), listened to Radio Ga Ga by Queen because my mom told me years ago that it was one of her favorites, and just cried. Like Jesus Christ, Kerry, the DRAMA. I tried to write about her in a notebook, which is what added to my crying, but I just felt crazy. I felt like she was gonna show up. Where was she? When can I see her? Are these crows that keep circling me a sign? Wait, why are these crows circling me? What in the hell … Kerry, stop crying!!!!
And then suddenly, these two little girls came up to me with their mom and stared at me until I took my earbuds out.
“Bonjour!” one of the girls said. “Vous parlez francais?”
Me, with tears in my eyes, “Un petit peu.”
“On peut te filmer pour notre projet d’école? (Can we film you for our school project?)”
Me, in English, “Um … wait, what.”
“Can we ask you questions for our school project?” I am way too dang approachable! I was crying! I need to be meaner.
“Oh, sure.”
“De quel pays êtes vous? (What country are you from?)”
“Uh, Les États-Unis.”
“Tu sais ce que sont les Jeux olympiques?”
“… Do I … know what the Olympics are?”
“Oui, yes!”
“Yes … oui.”
“Ok, merci! Thank you!”
That was literally the whole conversation. Their mom was SO proud of them for asking.
After that, I went from crying to laughing. I could hear the faint sounds of Radio Ga Ga on repeat in my earbuds. The crow was standing right across from me. My grandma’s bracelet pinched my arm hair. Rude.
And so I think I was hanging with Nikki that day, in the strangest way possible. But it made the trip exactly what I wanted. I did exactly what I wanted.
And now, I have blisters from my new loafers, but I look cool as hell.
So go to Paris! Go by yourself, or bring a friend! But do what you want! You won’t regret it.
movie rec: Petite Maman (2021) — I’ve recommended before, but I really mean it this time.
music rec: The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess - Chappell Roan
book rec: Chéri and The End of Chéri by Colette
person to travel with: yourself!
I especially loved this one. I miss your grandmother, my only sister, every day. Nikki and I always talked about how far we had come from our early expectations of life.