One-Way Ticket to Paris, Please

My new friend, Cota, overlooks The Seine at sunset. 

I stare blankly at the cashier behind the counter, with one hand on the bottle of wine I think I've just purchased. The cashier utters something in French again, and I think, "Okay, yeah you're right, there's no way this bottle of red wine only cost me two American dollars." I stare blankly for a moment more as if I could suddenly comprehend her words just by looking between her and her assistant manically. Finally I surrender and say, "No French." Which of course I am sure she did not understand. I know how to say that I do not speak French in French but the words leave me under pressure. I grab the wine and make a motion to leave, and she waves me out the door, having given up as well. So I really did just pay two dollars for this bottle. Lovely.

View from the Sacre Coeur in Montmartre.

I arrived in France a little over two weeks ago, and since then it has been an amalgamation of emotions. In France, I am forced to feel everything for myself, by myself. I came here alone so I have no one to turn to for consolation and no one to lean on for support when I get lost. It's just me. I also have no one dictating how I should spend my time. I can sleep in if I want, I can veer off the touristy path towards little crêperies and cafes. There is no compromise to be made ​​between travel companions- because I don't have one. It has been entirely liberating and entirely terrifying.

From left to right: the Eiffel Tower, Gardens of Versailles, mosaic outside the Palais de Tokyo, sun streaming through the stained glass windows of a cathedral, Shakespeare and Company book shop, Paris apartments and the Sacre Coeur.

However I do not enjoy being alone every hour of the day. So I have been in the practice of forcing myself to strike up conversations with strangers. I've had the opportunity to meet many different lives due to this. There is a trend of heartbroken people. There is a trend of people who purely came here for a good party. There is another trend of people who have quit their jobs to travel. I am in the last category. I traded in two jobs for a one-way ticket to Paris. Many thought I was crazy. Others asked me why. I did not have an answer to that question and it wasn't until I got here that I realized I don't have to have one. There's just not a reason for everything, yet I knew that this was simply the next thing I had to do in my life. College had ended and adding a shit ton of life experience to my resume seemed like the right choice. My resume as it is right now may be academically up to par, yet not particularly convincing many employers post-grad anyways. Enter impulsive life decision making skills.
 

I asked to take Gisselle's picture after spotting her pink hair at a cafe. Happy she did not think it was creepy. xo

It's been sixteen days since I've been on the road, and I have no idea where I am headed next. I have no idea who I will meet, the connections I will make, or even where I will be sleeping. I'm a bit of a scaredy-cat, and in recent years the unknown has been like a toxic friendship plaguing my willingness to take risks. France is teaching me to embrace the unknown, because I literally have no option other than to trust that everything will be okay, and that I will wake up tomorrow morning still not kidnapped. It has led me to some amazing people and experiences. If someone had told me sixteen days ago that I would have picnics under the Eiffel tower, bar crawl in the rainy streets of Montmartre, or follow a bunch of strangers to a rooftop with an surreal view of Paris at 2 AM, I never would have believed them.

Cheers at the Eiffel Tower with some "Leffe Ruby."

The unknown is scary, and it's especially scary when the unknown includes the local tongue of the land. Traveling solo is not easy. I am learning to go with the flow of setbacks and surprises. I'm learning to trust myself and others with a more open mind to possibility. I hope everyone decides to one day hop over the safety rope, jump off the cliff's ledge, away from the comfort of routine and join me in this free fall we call living. Or you may call me foolish. Whichever you prefer, but I'm still alive. Very much alive.  

Disclaimer: I know where I am sleeping for at least the next two weeks. Eventually I did purchase a return ticket for fear of not getting past immigration at the airport upon arrival. They didn't even check.