It was mid-January. The whole world as coronavirus’ hostage. People wearing masks, people coming back home by 6 p.m., people losing their jobs, and people not finding one.
But there are still interregional trains from 10 euros Paris-Bordeaux. There are some flats, for really modest budgets, on the Atlantic coast that have not seen anyone since your last visit in October.
And you book your tickets, your flat and you leave the urban world full of anguish.
To breathe, to breathe, to breathe.
This is how the new year has begun for me.
One of these days, I caught the morning sun and took the ticket from Paris to the zone 5 of Île-de-France. It was a freezing morning and silence poured serenity around me and over the fields on the top of a hill where Jambville village seemed to be on the top of the world.
It is the top of the world, because I can’t stop returning over there again and again, when I am longing for silence, for beauty, for space and for peace
in my soul.
Good night…
The isolation helped me to prepare the escape plans, in other words, I looked for ideas to go for a walk somewhere else except of Vexin, in Île-de-France. I thoroughly examined every inch of the google maps and photographs, and made a list of things I would like to see. When the confinement became milder, I visited Saint-Prix, a small town just nearby the famous Montmorency Forest, to the nord of Paris, in Val d’Oise. When the weather is sunny, it’s like a small Switzerland, and it is a good option for a not very long walk not very far from Paris (25 minutes by train from Gare du Nord).
Last Sunday I took another direction – to the south-east of Paris. I took the train doing to Provins from Gare de l’Est. In about 40 minutes it stoped at Mormant. From the railway station, it took me two hours walking to the south, where I expected to find a fortified medieval farm dating back to the 13th century. And I found it. There where only pigeons, ducks and me, and it was beautiful.
The farm is called le fief des Époisses. I think the peak of its glory was in the 70s, when it was in possession of the Maire of Mormant Mr. de Wulf, who transformed the farm into a place for musical events. Mstislav Rostropovich gave a concert here one night in 1975, and up to a thousand of people came from France, Belgium and Switzerland to listen to him.
It was later sold to the society Bis which accomplished the restoration works here in order to create a museum of agriculture. This dream didn’t come true. The farm is now closed to the visitors as private property (but is still visitable from outside). As it is the case of so many small historical buildings in France, it has become a place for meetings and seminars.
I had an interview for one good near-research, administrative position last Wednesday. The very fact that they noticed my CV and INVITED me for the 1st interview is significant. The salary is 30-35k euros per year, and the person should work really hard, and start straight away (adieu, summer!), making sometimes difficult decisions.
However, they chose another person. Disappointed as I got the decision, I should be perhaps rather happy that it wasn’t me who was chosen ’cause I’m really not sure that such a kind of administrative highly responsible and emotionally hard slavery has any monetary equivalent, and I am not sure that I would be able to endure all the challenges of the job.
At the same time, we had a really wonderful conceptual conversation with the employer. Wish him every success in his missions!
тим часом під Кримським мостом у 19 окрузі Парижа, на каналі, пара лебедів звили гніздо. кажуть, 6 яєць висиджують по черзі. вчора бачила обох, зараз – одну (одного). прямо над ними люди поставили огорожу і повісили оголошення з проханням тримати дистанцію і не турбувати, бо пара очікує дитинчат і їм потрібен спокій
Jogging is not allowed during the day, run if you can before 10 am and after 7 pm. I just walk. I ran twice and stopped. The French say, j’ai la flegme. But those who run in the morning and in the evening, they also go shopping at the supermarkets between 10 and 7. There’s always lots of people in the streets. Always. The weather is awesome, so of course it is hard to stay inside.
At the beginning, I thought I would have permanent language lessons online, three to four students a week, but I was mistaken. Since almost three weeks, in order to make some savings to be capable to pay the rent at the beginning of May, I’ve been having my lunches at the church. The flat owner was so kind as to propose me to pay just the amount of subsidies I got from the government. Though, I would rather pay as much as I can.
I’ve got just one active student. The other five I hope will become active once again… sooner or later. With this single student, we have two hours of Russian 4 times a week (at the moment). The prices are really low right now. After the lesson, I go to the church, sometimes also buy something at the oriental shops (tahina, honey), and eat at home. Time goes by so fast… After 7 pm, I go for a walk.
There’s a Balkan family living by the shore of the channel Saint-Denis. The house they occupy was a sort of a service construction which served for some things related to industrial transportation via the channel. The family which counts about 20 people occupies the whole building (two floors). There are women, children, young and adult men. As I pass by so often, we greet each other, and still I’m a bit scared of them. Women wash their house and then pour water from the window on the passage where the passers-by and cyclists come and go, the water then flows into the channel. It doesn’t get worse, you can see many things there: huge dead fish, plastic bags full of garbage, plastic and glass bottles, and other shit floating here and there from one place to another and never disappears. One of the family members, a man with a huge belly and a traumatized eye, is fishing there all the time.
Paris streets became dirty. There are masks and gloves, and charity lunch plastic everywhere, I know its forms ’cause I eat from this plastic myself. I think a lot of the poor get their nutrition at the churches and other free food distribution spots.
I’ve got no news from my ancient Greece colleagues since more than three weeks. The lazy mathematician calls or sends me sms almost every day. I didn’t accept that he borrowed me 150 euros. It’s kind of him, but I would rather not to… No sex with the strangers.
And no house-cleaning any more after the lockdown.
Sometimes I feel so exhausted, I can sleep 12 hours at night and three hours the next day as if something took all of my energy, I have no will nor desire to do anything, I am empty, I am a biomass, I am nothing and nobody. Meanwhile, there’s in my head the whole list of things to do but I’m too weak to make a single simple step – to open an already created document, to write a few sentences; to search for new job positions; or at least to write memories about something dear and bright. All things became heavy, the rhythm of life is suspended, and perhaps I should learn to follow the flow.
Though, it’s easy to take entropy and self-destruction for a moment – or period – of recovery.
For those who’s eager to go to the ocean, here it is, the ocean I saw last November.
I’ve found a place where one can get his or her packed lunch every day during quarantine. It’s the Paroisse Notre Dame des Foyers, 20 rue Tanger, 19e arrondissement de Paris, 1km from my home. I went there two days ago for the first time and received my lunch. It is for free. Today’s Easter, and I went there for the third time and got a bunch of tiny Easter chocolate rabbits! Very touching.
The volunteers organised it in a way that no one comes into contact with nobody. You don’t enter into the church. Just at the entry to the backyard, they put a table. A visitor comes up to the table where there’s a daily meals package waiting for him or her. There are about five volunteers. I think the older man is the priest. Everybody’s kind and polite. No crowds. I would say there’s no one coming for help, but I saw two people yesterday taking their lunches.
There are always a small bottle of water, two small bagettes, butter, confiture, compote, a cake, fruit and a salad, every day different. And today – lots of rabbits! Thank you!
Happy Easter
Paris after Chiara storm. Canal de la Villette and the Crimea Bridge au fond.
How to survive in Paris 