Sketch by Michelle Lau
I woke up this morning and decided to choose happiness over regret and doubt. Yes, I had a less than stellar night with Monsieur Flâneur that left me feeling empty and sad for our love lost, but set backs will happen and he was participating in the evening just as much as I was. So why am I beating myself up? Why does it have to be entirely my fault? It doesn't. Today I choose to exhale it out and blow it off to being two people suffering from the residuals of a break-up and besides, its Friday which means one thing. Belly Dancing class!! I totally just shimmied my shoulders...
The class went well and I'm certainly improving and feeling less of a Bollywood poser but there is still work to be done in order to reach my goal and dreams of Belly Dancing bliss. Appropriately, my friend Kamal who gets a kick out of my new hobby had invited me to get some Indian food to celebrate my progress. We met up in the 'festive' 10th arrondisement after my class, a neighborhood I haven't frequented since I first arrived in Paris almost two years ago. I stayed in this area because my first apartment in the 15th wasn't be ready for three days so I stayed in the spare room that a guy named David rented out that I found on the internet. When I type it out, that just sounds insane and was an idea that my mother naturally loathed. In her thick New York accent she kept asking 'Who the fuck David was?' and I didn't understand why I couldn't wait until my apartment was available to leave for Paris. In hindsight, she was probably right and I suppose that I could've hung around New York for a few more days but if my memory serves me correctly around this time before my departure, my family was annoying me to epic levels and just needed out. Fast.
The 10th can be a bit overwhelming for a newbie freshly arriving in Paris who has thoughts of romance, La Tour Eiffel and croissants bouncing in their head. My, have I grown since those days, I've replaced the croissants with baguette cereal with butter from Bretagne and romance for a good vibrator. The area is heavily condensed with immigrants (including myself!) and with my weak level of French at the time was terrified to speak. Not wanting to expose my American-ness, I bought random things at the near-by Mono'p and lived on processed salads from the take away fridge. Basically consuming anything I could buy that I didn't have to ask for. A vast difference from today where I can't shut up, I love gossiping with my local grocer.
Excited about Kamal's Indian food proposal, I kept asking if I could wear my newly purchased belly dancing costume so I could feel part of the culture while we eat nan and gossip about our former friends. Amid said 'non'. Dis. We went to Sahil, a no frills, cheap and good dive for Poulet Tikki Masala, cheese nan and Strawberry laisses. Amid has become and even better friend to me during this transition and was of the few friends of mine here who helped a girl in the merde! Its a fact that in a time of crisis is where you learn who your real friends are and who were just bar friends.
The cure to a post-break up relapse is belly dancing, good food and better friends. I'm shimmying again..
Sahil
105 rue du Faubourg Saint Denis
Paris 75010
