Paris was home for a few months back in 2017. I bonded with the city then and whenever I am travelling in Europe, I try adding a few days to my itinerary to sneak in a visit.
This is how I found myself, jetlagged and weary, drinking coffee at the edge of the Place de la République a couple of weeks ago. I felt simultaneously at home and a stranger in a big city. I mean, Paris couldn’t be more different from my wee mountain town where nothing is ever more than 10 minutes by bike from anything else.
That said, in Paris, one is never far from a Metro station. And, once you have the basics of the system figured out, navigating is pretty straightforward. Hopping on a train, hurtling through the subterranean network of tunnels, then ascending, blinking and mole-like into the streets above is the coolest experience, particularly when arriving for the first time at a particular destination.
It’s as close as I’m ever likely to come to popping out the backside of a wardrobe leading to Narnia.
And, on the subject of wardrobes… one evening, we went on a walking tour of Paris speakeasies. We popped into a couple before my hip gave out and we had to retreat, but oh, I need to do more speakeasy exploring next time I’m in the city after my new hip installation (hip number two should be implanted at some point later this spring, early in the summer).
If you are in the know, you enter a secret password into a phone to unlock access to a nondescript door, or wander through the kitchen and past the big freezer to access a hidden bar/club tucked away out of sight. Once inside one such secret establishment, we noticed people opening a door to a wardrobe, stepping inside, and disappearing - apparently into an even more secret watering hole. We tried to go through the wardrobe to see what lay beyond but were stopped as the hidden bar behind the bar wasn’t on the official tour! And, alas, we ran out of time to go back and try to find out the secret password required to gain access.
Not knowing exactly what might lie beyond the exit to the Metro station (or on the other side of what appeared to be a shelf full of grocery items — in fact an entrance to yet another speakeasy), is part of the joy of travel. While others often worry about me getting lost in a new place (which I do often and spectacularly well), I am never stressed about not winding up exactly where I expected to be.
I’ve discovered the most amazing nooks and crannies and unexpected delights when I’ve gone off course. If that means I’m occasionally late for dinner because of unforeseen navigational challenges, well, so be it.
I’m starting my list of Paris speakeasies now (even though I have no idea when I may return to Paris)- if you have any recommendations, let me know. Or, if you are aware of other destinations that have secret establishments one could visit if only you knew how to find them, do tell!
(In case you are wondering where I’ve been and what I’ve been writing, well… I’ve here, there and everywhere - in the past year: the Bahamas, Florida, Texas, various mountain-y destinations in BC and Alberta, Paris, Sicily, Malta, back and forth to the West Coast multiple times… As for the writing, lots of homework assignments for school! I’m pretty sure that in their current form, they wouldn’t be of much interest to anyone else, so I’m sparing you. Likewise my journalling and weekly writing ruminations for Writers on Fire… I’ve also started work on a new novel —a psychological thriller — in collaboration with my dear friend and editor, Sarah Harvey…
All that said, when I was in Malta, I discovered that one of Dad’s mentors - Victor Pasmore - retired to Malta, where he continued to influence artists. I made a pilgrimage to the Victor Pasmore Gallery in Valletta to see what I could glean about Pasmore, to try to understand what it was about him and his work that so impressed Dad. That got me reinspired on the memoir front… I’ll post about that expedition next. Thanks to all of you who continue to read this Substack even when the updates are somewhat sporadic!)
To Nikki the Gypsy traveller. You certainly get around. And you still manage to keep up with your obligations. School, Writers on fire, Substack and personal writing. I hope you’ll share some of your psychological thriller with us. We must return to Paris and go on a speakeasy tour and possibly visit the Narnia behind the bar.
Part of our three-months-late anniversary celebration was spent at a speakeasy in Calgary. And we're due to go to the one in Canmore any day now.