Carnet de Voyage: a Part of Paris

Travel notes from the real France. Carnet de Voyage is a weekly personal travel story in France sent in by readers. If you’d like to write a story for Carnet de Voyage, head here for details on how to submit. 

Paris, beautiful Paris, it can capture your heart and soothe your soul.  Twenty years ago now, I left this city to raise my child in the U.K. After spending ten happy years there I can still today feel ‘homesick’ for my adopted city. 

It was a pivotal moment without question as my child was attending the local ‘maternelle’ school at the age of three and was getting on well. It felt a bit like now or never and my French husband had a curiosity about Scotland and felt brave enough to move there. 

Looking back on those ten years where Paris gave me a grounding in life lessons, politeness and a brand-new perspective, my heart brightens, and memories are activated. Who was the twenty-year-old who moved to Paris on a sort of whim without speaking more than two words of the language? Oh yes – that was me! 

As a college graduate in ‘Childcare and education’ the agencies were only too glad to match me up with work as a private nanny. What I did not know however was that I was on the biggest learning curve of my life. Yes, I could have gotten by without learning the language but here’s the thing – I was curious and hungry to understand.  

I learned French thanks to Parisian friends, the workplace and the media, especially watching the Arte TV channel. Each new word felt like such a huge accomplishment. Previously I was a little envious of friends who went off to university but here I understood that living in Paris was to be my ‘studies of life’ so to speak.  

Very rapidly I took in the customs, expectations and some etiquette. This was a huge jump in many different ways – I had grown up on the outskirts of Edinburgh, in a small mining community. The Parisian ways could have left me cold but they did not, instead I put my heart into trying to show that I could adapt but I knew the challenges I faced.  

The workplace put a high demand on me and wanted more than ‘nursery duties’ and although tiring at times it gave me an in-depth knowledge and insight into the Parisian psyche and I was fascinated. The children’s mother wore only designer clothes and had a breakdown of sorts when wine was spilt on her shoes one evening in the country residence. One morning the housekeeper was late and ‘Madame’ required a skirt to be ironed – she was frantic and so I offered to do it and I saw another side of her as the relief was all over her face. Realising that in fact she had never ironed in her life was like some kind of revelation.  

I am quite aware that my experience did not 100% define Parisian family life but rather gave me a look through a particular lens. My petit ami (boyfriend), also a Parisian (with a titled name) was happy to teach me the ways of Paris life and responded well to my questions, such as… Why can you not say ‘no’ to an invitation?  What is so wrong with a cheese sandwich? Do we have to let the red wine breathe? 

The first time he visited my ‘chambre de bonne’ (a former maid’s room – very small [& often located in the attic space of appartment buildings – ed’s note]) he laughed at me as I placed red wine in the fridge and thought that salt was an unnecessary ingredient. When he asked what I ate on the weekends I was honest about my pasta and ketchup from the Paris Marks and Spencer’s.  

Fast forward a few years and I am sitting in the town hall of the 5th arrondissement of the city asking for a place for my daughter in the local ‘garderie’ (part-time daycare). I receive a compliment which I will never forget. The Mayor’s wife looked me up and down and said ‘you speak very good French’. Well, I felt like I had won the jackpot!  

After our move to Scotland, I missed Paris a lot but spoke French quite a bit at home within our family. Alas, after a few years, I became a single mother, now with two Franco/Scottish children.  

There was not a soul to speak French with for the first time in many years and I felt a missing piece which was impossible to ignore so I attended classes and much to my dismay I could not write but could talk and comprehend very well.  Edinburgh University, The French consulate and local educational classes kept me practising French but again, there was a missing piece – I did not know if I could resolve it…. 

Recently it came to me as I have a French tutor now, on a weekly basis:  it is the ‘me’ that is missing, the young girl with spontaneity and an open heart to France. I spent all my ‘twenties’ there and grew and developed as a person. Although far from being a Parisian, a little part of me belongs there… 

Read our other Carnet de Voyage entries here. 

Based in Scotland, Paula Smith is a graduate in psychology, counselling and French to English translation. Volunteer writer, blogger and student in creative writing (post grad. diploma), she’s an avid reader and listener of French podcasts.