A surreal Sunday scene: I’m walking down Rue Alexandre Dumas, my familiar street made new when it’s washed in spring’s bright light. I fall behind two young French girls – they couldn’t have been more than 9 or 10 – on the corner near Conforama. One has an iPhone pressed to her ear, her blond tresses nearly covering the device. She’s speaking into it seriously, while her friend patiently waits.
When her serious talk is through she hangs up and becomes lighthearted again, and the two friends begin chatting and laughing. By this time, I’ve passed them, my long legs carrying me much faster than theirs.
Then, from behind me, I hear:
“I like the way you work it. No diggity, I got to bag it up, bag it up
I like the way you work it. No diggity, I got to bag it up…”
And the girls are singing along! When Dr. Dre starts rapping, they even keep pace with that, too.
A deep look of confusion has overtaken my face, then my lips spread into a huge grin, even while I’m shaking my head. How in the world do these little French girls 1) know this song twice as old as they are (1996, baby!) 2) keep up with the lyrics (do they have any idea what they’re saying?). I’m surprised and slightly disconcerted, too.
They cross the street and I lose the Blackstreet song and their voices rising to meet it. I continue on my way.
We’ve been basking in a whole string of warm, sunny days. Sun therapy isn’t reliably available in Paris, but my, no better option exists if you can get it. The default belief that the sunshine won’t last (the sky here so much more accustomed to a palate of grays), promises outsized excitement with its appearance. Each day for a couple weeks now, it seems, I wake and look out the window. It’s sunny…again? I simply can’t believe the good fortune. It’s impossible to ever take for granted the sun.
I’ve been making daily trips to a neighborhood park – my destination when I ran into the rapping girls – and I even made a recent trip to my favorite Parisian outpost, Buttes Chaumont. Another flashback to earlier times. It had been so long since I’d seen the Sybil Temple above the lake, and laid on its sloping hills.
I usually stick closer to home, though; I like anywhere I can walk. Yesterday, on my way back from sunbathing, I noticed a shop, its window crowded with colorful clothes and vintage jewelry, shoes and boots. How is it possible to follow the same route over and over and still discover you’ve completely missed something right in front of you?
“Are you open?” I peek my head into the door, already ajar. Sunday, sunny, open store? It did not compute.
“Yes, come in,” the woman inside said. I was the only customer. It’s hard for me to enter stores when the sun is out, but even harder for me to resist a new thrift shop.
I fingered the racks, imagining wearing some of the bright, patterned dresses around a city so often clothed in a sober style.
“Have you been here a long time?” I asked, as I ventured deeper into the store.
“No, about 2 months,” the owner replied.
“Ah, okay,” I said. “I was wondering, how did I miss this place?”
“No, no, you’re right,” she said. “Come look, we have a cafe, too,” she said. I scanned the cute little tea room in the back.
“I’m also a hair stylist,” she said, and I noticed then she’s standing by a salon chair facing a mirror.
“So you do everything here,” I said and smiled.
“We’re trying,” she said and handed me a card. L’atypique.
“Great,” I said. “When are you open?”
“Tuesday through Saturday from 11..11:30…allez, let’s say 11 to 7, Monday afternoons and sometimes on Sunday, like this, when it’s nice out and I feel like it.”
The relaxed approach to business hours used to flummox me when I first moved here. Now, it tickles me. Indeed. Why not just do something when you feel like it?
“It’s very cute,” I said. “I’ll be back.”
“With pleasure, Madame.”
I headed out the door, happy with my new discovery.
A few steps later, I saw this:
I may not always be the most observant person, but I usually see the dog poop without needing it pointed out. But hey, maybe it’s a new public service! Also, there’s always some reminder not to get too carried away with Paris’ charms, n’est-ne pas?
I’ve been reflecting a lot recently. Just what am I doing? What is my purpose? My goals?
Stepping outside into a sunny day, though, often puts the existential questioning on lovely hold. Well, at this very moment, the present, I’m doing what I feel like doing: seeking the sun on my face.
Plus, life changes take time. I went back to L’atypique today and talked more to the owner, who I learned was Dominique. She told me about finding the space; how it took a year to go from the bare walls to what I saw now, about being in business with her brother, who creates many of the unconventional lamps that fill the store. She confessed how difficult it was setting everything up, especially since they’re doing so many activities under one roof.
“The paperwork was a nightmare!” she said.
Oh, I know something about that.
And yet, it was another gorgeous day outside and we were having a delightful chat. Almost anything can be forgiven in Paris, it feels, when the sun comes out.
In looking up the “No Diggity” song to put with this post, I learned that song was in a teen movie a few years ago, Pitch Perfect. (I never have a clue about pop culture). I guess that explained why those little girls had the song in their phone.
But I’m kind of okay not always finding the immediate answers. Getting comfortable with the tiny mysteries make for an interesting journey. Just stumbling along, but staying open, often has its own rewards. Surprises, atypical ones, often await.
No diggity, no doubt.
L’atypique
46 rue Chanzy
75011 Paris
Make me ache for Paris, why don’t you? 🙂 Just love this, Sion- the language dances, spritzes, delights. Enjoy your season of sun, each day that it lingers!
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Thanks so much, Julie! So the dog droppings didn’t temper your yearning? 😉 No, it’s true. It’s DELIGHTFUL here right now and I am really grateful for each day like this. I get so caught up inside my own head and looking at this computer screen sometimes. As soon as I step outside and am greeted with these tiny marvels and brilliant sun, though, I’m reminded to glory in the moment. It really is my therapy!
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I thought I knew all the parks in Paris, but I don’t think I’ve been to the Jardin de la Folie Titon! Those buildings don’t look familiar to me.
This post is timely for me—I’ve been asking myself versions of those same questions. And I’m with you on grabbing those moments of sunshine when we can.
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It’s one of those hidden little parks, for sure. You’d have to notice it’s there. It’s super cute and sometimes in the summer they show outdoor movies on the lawn. A tiny gem.
One of my friends who knows a lot about astrology says it’s truly a time of big questions, that we’ve been through a series of “life-altering Uranus-Pluto squares.” Now I have no idea what that means, but it seems to square with how I’m feeling! So I guess it’s in the stars.
Meanwhile, indeed. Might as well contemplate our fate while basking in the sun 🙂
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edie wright surprise..I don’t understand the lyrics. the way they
move is understandable and such fun to experience Paris through your eyes
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Edie, that’s what made it even more surprising. I barely understand the lyrics myself! I wondered just what the the young French girls understood.
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Love the surprises you turn up. Rapping French girls and L’Atypique, wrapped up in a fun story. So true that it’s a matter of staying open. And enjoying the sun!
P.S. I think I lost my subscription when I got a new phone. But maybe not, and so I may be subscribed twice.
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Thanks so much, Ana! I love stumbling across these surprises as much as I like sharing them here. Thanks for subscribing!
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These kinds of days are my favourite; following the scent so to speak and stumbling toward something great. An added bonus if you meet new people and have a nice chat along the way.
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Indeed!
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Hi Sion–Found your event at Stockbridge Library next week and plan to attend. And then discovered your blog, which is delightful about Paris. Your writing is light and breezy, like yours walks seem to be. They make make me yearn to see Paris again. Thank you!
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Thank you so much for the kind words, Suzanne! I’m so glad I could share a bit of my Paris with you! I’m delighted, too, that you’ll come to the event at the Stockbridge Library. See you then and thanks again!
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