Of all the expat bloggers I know in the community, Sion Dayson was the first I met long before we entered the virtual world. A mutual friend with whom she worked in New York introduced us and what struck me about her from the start, aside from her full-bodied, vibrant laugh, was her somewhat tumultuous relationship with Paris; something I understood far too well. That’s probably why I immediately liked Sion so much – she didn’t pretend Paris was something it wasn’t. She unabashedly spoke of Paris’s power to isolate us, trample our confidence and even drain creativity, all packaged behind a romanticized veneer of whimsy.
But once Sion began penning Paris (Im)Perfect, her tune improved. A talented writer, Sion found inspiration in areas of Paris she had previously neglected and redirected her energy to a novel she began writing a few years prior. The city, with its complications and perennial highs and lows, proved to be a most fruitful setting to fuel her imagination. Perhaps even more so than her beloved New York. But that’s part of what makes her impressions of life in France, good and bad, all the more interesting.
Describe what you love about France in three words.
Enriches my perspective.
My initial reaction to this question was to list many of the usual suspects – beauty, culture, health care, pain au chocolat.
But when it comes down to it, what I love most is how my experience has expanded. Learning a new language, decoding different social cues, navigating stubborn bureaucracy, creating a new life where at first everything felt foreign – that’s a recipe for growth if ever I heard one. France both frustrates and delights me. Living here helps unearth many discoveries, not just about this country – but also about myself.
How does living in France inspire your work?
Believe it or not, I went through a long period where I actually felt that Paris was crushing my creativity. There is such a deep literary history in this city, which of course should be inspiring. But I think that fact actually inhibited me for a while – just what in the heck did I have to add? There’s no more futile road than trying to measure yourself against others, much less legends.
Once I got through some of the challenges I described above, I realized that while it may sound cliché – American writer in Paris – we each experience the world uniquely. We all have stories, but only I can tell mine.
Both confronting the difficulties and now feeling quite comfortable here offers a nice opportunity, I think. Embracing the possibilities of being an outsider/insider. For example, I see the United States more clearly now because of my distance. And equally I’ve absorbed certain ways of being that are a direct result of living in France. This sort of evolving bicultural negotiation provides fertile ground for my writing.
That being said, Paris can still be a hard place to work, what with all the temptations and distractions. One could easily never sit down to write!
Part of the city that sparks creativity the most?
I just published an essay a couple weeks ago that speaks to this in part. I live near Père Lachaise cemetery, which is not only a popular tourist site, but a local favorite, too. But I wasn’t at all drawn to it for a long time. All those graves – depressing!
Then something clicked one day, and now I find it such a meditative place. Each of those gravestones honors a person, a human being who led a whole, precious life. The sheer number of stories makes the head spin. Strolling through Père Lachaise both clears my mind and makes it wander…
Any part of the city can – and does – spark creativity, though. That is the magic (of both Paris and the very nature of creativity). As long as eyes, ears, and heart are open, the world can astound at any second. I never know where an idea will ignite. It may just be some small gesture, or the expression of someone in a café. I love when suddenly the ordinary seems to transform into the extraordinary.
Favorite spot outside of Paris to relax and recharge?
Hmm, relax and recharge. I don’t do that often enough! When I leave Paris there’s always the hard choice – go back home to visit friends and family or discover a new destination? I try for the balance. I love how trains and low-cost airlines make travel so easy in Europe. Istanbul, Budapest, and Lisbon are a few of the cities that really moved me.
I do love getting back to New York, though. The energy there is still unmatched by anywhere else I’ve ever been. I miss that dynamism sometimes and a visit always fills me with a good dose.
I would like to discover more of France, too. For a couple summers I rented a gite in Bourgogne and it was a great way to disconnect and unwind. I have friends in Aix en Provence, soon in Marseille, who also introduced me to the Auvergne region which I didn’t know much about. It’s always nice to have friends in the south of France!
Most frustrating or amusing interaction with the French?
I’ll go with amusing, as I like ending on a positive note (but I have many frustrating stories up my sleeve if you want to hear them sometime!)
When I first moved here, I barely spoke French. Yet somehow in less than a month I found myself in front of many French people teaching Pilates. I can’t imagine what the words I was saying actually sounded like to them.
To complicate matters (as if teaching in a language you barely speak isn’t enough!) Pilates was rather new here, so trying to tell people to “pull their navel to their spine” or “engage their core” when those weren’t even concepts they had heard before made for some interesting moments. I’m pretty sure the students couldn’t tell half the time whether my crazy instructions were because I couldn’t speak French (true) or if that’s really what I was trying to say (also true).
After several months someone finally told me that every time I tried to say the word immobile (as in, keep your hips immobile), I always said immeuble (building) instead. I might or might not also have confused baisser (as in lower the legs) for baiser (as in, ahem, a very crude proposition). There I was, naively demonstrating the exercises and yelling encouragements: keep your hips building! Hump your legs!
Though I’ve gotten my fair bit of grief for my less than perfect French, that class also showed me how kind people could be. My French literally skyrocketed by having to talk my way through that class week after week. No one laughed at me. They helped me, suggested new words. Smiled back.
Seemed they thought the crazy American was kind of charming, too.
*****
Thanks, Sion! For more linguistic and cultural blunders, check out her Faux Pas Friday series and follow her on Twitter: @ParisImperfect for updates on life and writing in Paris! For more information on her work, visit www.siondayson.com.
{Photos: Sion Dayson}
{Photos: Sion Dayson}
