I’ve never been a partier. Not in high school as classmates went from exploring their rebellious sides under the football stadium bleachers to the post-game fête where lushes-in-training engaged in salacious behavior; not in college as my floormates staggered home as the sun was rising and tried to convince me I missed out on the party of the year; and not as an adult where I would much rather enjoy a leisurely dinner out in Paris than spend hours in someone’s cramped apartment-party picking out bacon bits from a greasy quiche, recounting my life story to inebriated strangers and feeling dehydrated from a lack of non-alcoholic beverages. (Somehow water never makes it onto the menu).
I’m happiest when I’m in bed by 11pm on a Friday night after having spent a relaxing evening exploring, eating, and laughing with an intimate group of friends or even, after going to the movies alone and walking home, feeling the movement of the city with each step.
I still think fondly of those mornings in college where I would awake with microwave popcorn bits coiled in my hair after having fallen asleep to a movie. It could be the way I was raised or it could be because romantic relationships tended to occupy most of my time and energy but I’ve never found joy in the late-night bar or club scene.
So you can imagine my excitement when I made plans for a calm Friday evening of strolling and chatting with Amy Thomas. With a herniated disc that continues to impede proper mobility and a schedule far too packed to find relief, sometimes forcing myself to wander and be outdoors is precisely what I need. Before meeting up with Amy, I hobbled along the Quai de l’Hôtel de Ville, stopped in to say hello to my friends at La Cuisine Paris, watched the sun begin to set along the river, and wondered why this wasn’t a widely accepted Friday evening activity.
All it was missing was a dog, a picnic basket and maybe a banjo and it would have been the furthest thing from what many of my friends from the States would consider an active Friday night, even as an adult.
Gushing about writing, aspirations, my project Lola’s Cookies and her forthcoming book about Paris sweets, Amy and I had a lovely evening even after we were rudely hushed by an older couple who claimed our ‘boisterous’ conversation was preventing them from properly enjoying their meal (in silence, I should add). We laughed it off, continued our talk and said our goodbyes knowing we’d have loads more to discuss on her next trip.
A little calm, a little sunshine and a lot of Paris to combat the stress that amounted by the end of the week. Who needs a party when you have all this at your fingertips?