Cher Paris…Dear Paris

Dear Paris,

This is Salim. Remember me? Think back to one year ago, September 22, 2013. You see that petrified, pale guy in the Calgary International Airport about to soil his Hockey Night in Canada boxers? Believe it or not, my skin actually used to be brown, but turned white due to the stress of moving to an entirely different continent. You caused me an awful lot of stress and worry in the weeks leading up to that fateful Sunday.

We had a pretty amazing time together, you and I. It started off rough, as things of that nature tend to do…no phone or internet meant that I couldn't talk to my family for a whole nine days. New language and city, no friends…it all was very confusing at the beginning.



The next day I arrived and was shepherded from l'aêroport Charles de Gaulle to Conflans Sainte Honorine, the small Parisien town I would call home. I made my way up the five flights of stairs to my apartment at Lycée Jules Ferry, dropped off my valises, and headed back downstairs to the house of a colleague, whose wife had graciously cooked me a traditional French meal, complete with fromage, baguettes, vin, and--of course--great conversation.

Nine days later, I was an English assistant at a high school in France…it still did not seem real. A day later, I got lost on the train tracks, only to have a stranger drive me a half hour to the next station. I had a lot of those moments, seeing the unexpected greatness of humanity in a city known to be cold and unwelcoming of others.

Not long after that, I met mes amis…the amazing friends I'd have for the next few months, passing countless hours having pints, taking strolls, and soaking in your beautiful scent.

We met on Nuit Blanche, and the first time we ever encountered each other, we hung out from 4pm to 6am, non-stop. We strolled through those famous Parisien landmarks in the middle of the night, unaware and uncaring of any dangers posed to us. We hopscotched vomit-laden metro stations, exhausted but fulfilled as we boarded the first trains to take us back to our Parisien outskirt towns.

The months went by and things changed, as they often do. I found an excellent journalism internship, made some more great friends, and got to see a different side of you: the side of a beret-clad journalist navigating la métro four times a week, sipping on café au laits and reading Le Parisien in the morning, and downing Kronenburgs and camels during evening Happy Hours at Leonards.

You taught me a thousand and one lessons, one of them being the strength of human relationships. Never have I had as strong relationships as I did during my time in Paris, be they with friends, coworkers, or students.  

I recall with great fondness the alcohol-induced sprints from The Great Canadian Pub to Chatalet metro station, running as fast as I could to catch that last 12:40am train from Gare St Lazare and not having to take the night bus.

The memories that preceded those enjoyable runs were pretty amazing too.

It's funny thinking about it all. I lived in Edmonton for 19 years, and not once did I get a free beer or shot from a bartender. In Paris, that happened all the time.

I got to call you my own. You were mine, Paris, and I was yours. It really was a great marriage.

For 225 days, my life was governed by one question: do I feel like licking the Eiffel Tower today? 

Conflans Sainte Honorine was an absolute joy to live in. Within my apartment (conveniently located at the high school where I taught), I could find the banks of the River Seine and an array of brasseries, markets, and bakeries to buy a quick treat, and take a romantic stroll. I miss running into my students in the town. 

Getting a chance to see my dad for a few days and showing him around chez moi was another amazing chapter in the book.

Because you were so close to so many other places, I got to visit your neighbours. That three night escapade in Barcelone will forever go down as the craziest trip of my life. I have never consumed as much Vodka as I did one night in Rome. London with my dad was real special, as was a quick trip to Amsterdam three weeks after I arrived in France. There was also horseback riding through the Icelandic mountains.

Those nights in Versailles, crashing on a friend's couch after overdosing on four Euro wine and magnificent fromage.



Sometimes, you weren't so kind to me. Remember when you robbed me at 4 a.m., or the time I was rushed to the hospital? What about those bouts of home-longingness that usually came on Sunday afternoons?

One of my favourite memories was the first time I saw my friends, 10 days after I had gotten robbed of my wallet and cellphone.

You had a way of imparting those harsh lessons, right when they were least expected and most needed. 

Like Sinatra once sang, "But now, as tears subside, I cannot help but find it all so amusing."

As I stood in that line in Roissy, I had no idea what to think. All I was driven by was the regret that

would encompass the rest of my life should I deny Paris the chance to have me. Fear and uncertainty were really the only emotions I knew that day.

I think that, if I could go back, I'd tell that version of Sali
m not to believe the hype. Don't buy into the school of thought that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Go out there, have fun, take the city for granted, and leave it all out there.

Take a moment every now and then, step back, breathe deeply, exhale, and thank the powers that be that you are a Parisien.

That version of Salim was of the belief that he'd finish his time in Paris, and return to the same, culture-devoid city of Edmonton, and continue his studies at the same university as if no time had passed. He really didn't think that, on the one year anniversary of the biggest leap of faith of his life, he'd be back in his home of Montréal, attending a great university and staring at his first opportunity working directly with an NHL organisation.


I won't take a stab at predicting what will happen in the future, but I do know that I was desperate to return to Montreal, and was able to make that happen. I'm reaching that same level of intent with returning to Paris. I really want to lick the Eiffel Tower again.

Le Maurais, Montmartre, Champs Ellyés, Chatalet, Notre Dame, Le Petit Point, The Great Canadian Pub, Louvre, Convival, Le Bouqet, Creamhouse, Gare St Lazare, La Défense, rue Beaubourg, Versailles.

Living abroad comes with enormous challenges, the biggest of which is returning home. Paris and Montreal are now as much my home as Edmonton is.

It's amazing looking back on that time. I think I'm a completely different person, and have you to thank for it. I have you to thank for giving me the chance to return to Montreal. I have you to thank for helping orchestrate the greatest chapter in my life. I have you to thank for the countless amazing interactions with métro passengers, bartenders, baristas, musicians, and other Parisiens. And I have you to thank for an amazing cast of close friends, fellow teachers, students, journalist coworkers, and townspeople in Conflans Sainte Honorine.



My favourite view in Paris was in Montmartre. From a certain point, there is a perfect view of the
Eiffel Tower and Montparnasse. The contrast is incredible, looking at it from the hill. One considered the world's foremost architectural structure, the other widely viewed as Paris' ugliest building and a sore thumb in an otherwise perfectly sculpted city.

Je reviens chez moi bientôt. Toujours un Parisien,