On Wandering

Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the Universe.

- Anatole France

I love to wander around aimlessly. It's without a doubt one of the reasons that I love it here so much.

Paris is just such a wonderful city for roaming, you know? It's the sort of city whose streets twist and turn at unexpected corners, and whose narrow paths lead to the most unexpected of discoveries. It's the kind of place where you can roam about, swept up in silent reverie, for hours upon end, and only come to realize that time has passed when your stomach begins to grumble and you know it's time for a warm crèpe and a café crème.

It's strange how new and fresh everything seems to me here. I think that my senses have really been working on overdrive since I stepped foot in Charles de Gaulle airport. It's a strange thing to be in a country that looks, smells, and tastes completely different to your own.


I love to wander about Paris because there is just so much to see, so much to take in. It is a city which was designed to be beautiful, a city brimming over with art, a city that has the power to inspire. It's also a city in which I enjoy a feeling a relative peace and security.

Of course, I know, Paris is not perfect. There is trash on the pavement, and stray dogs on the streets. There are parts of the city which are evidently more dangerous than others. But what do you expect? Paris is not some whimsical dream. It is not Amelie and it is not Paris Je T'aime. It is a real city, full of real people, who have their own stories, and their own problems. Just like you and I. 


I know that bad things can happen to me in this city, just like it can happen any where else in the world. But that still does not stop it from being a magical place.


....

This morning I went for a walk in my neighbourhood. I started off from my cottage and walked along the Seine until I came across a wooden bench which overlooked a particularly beautiful part of the river. This is the same river that has inspired the paintings of Renoir and Monet and timeless poetry from Baudelaire, Apollinaire and de Musset.


I sat on there on the bench, rapt in blissful solitude, and my mind began to wander back to that place that I come from. My two islands, nestled warmly at the bottom of the Caribbean chain. Islands blessed with breathtaking natural beauty and year long warmth which should make them ideal for wandering. I thought about Mayaro beach, rugged and wild and spacious, and how much I would love to walk from one end of its coconut tree lined shoreline to the other at the crack of dawn. I thought about the beautiful waterfalls that lie all along the mountains of the North Coast. I thought about all the places that I would love to wander about in the islands whenever I wanted to and without any fear.

And then I thought about the horror stories that flood our nation's papers daily. Stories of innocent citizens being attacked. Stories that cause us to become paralyzed with fear.

I come from a place where I have been robbed of the freedom to roam. Being here is making me realize how much I missed that freedom.