sabato 22 maggio 2010

Déjà vu

Dear diary,

There`s been long time since I wrote you last time. I needed some time for myself, for my thoughts and decisions to be taken. Wish I could escape far, far away from here but I know that it will not solve any of my problems. Maybe I just need a holiday, a trip to somewhere in order to recharge batteries and start all over again.

Speaking about trips, these days I remembered one of my favorite trips and that inexplicable feeling that followed me since the plane landed at the Charles de Gaulle airport. It was September of 2004. In summer of that year Zsuzsanna and I decided to go to Paris to study French. We studied together at the time, at the University of Trieste, and we lived at the same dormitory in Gorizia. She was younger than me but we had a lot of things in common, included the crazy professor of French language De Gioia who pretended from his students to spend some time abroad, and inevitable we became close friends. After thinking a lot about our French destination, we opted for Paris where we founded a suitable language course at the Alliance Française. One of girls we knew who spent her Erasmus program in Paris suggested to us a nice dormitory near the Notre Damme Church, so after we got accepted there, everything was ready for the journey of our dreams. At least of my dreams because since we arrived there, Zsuzsanna was not that much thrilled about the city as I was from the very beginning.

I remember clearly as it was yesterday. I went to Milan quite early, as my flight was at 7:20 A.M. My dad took me at the airport by car as it was not possible to take a train that early in order to get there on time. A friend of my dad who was living in Paris and working as a taxi driver had to wait for me at the Paris airport. Zsuzsanna was already there as she took a night train from Venice. I was so excited that I was counting minutes to landing. I was trying to imagine how it would be my first meeting with that town that I was always thinking about as the place where I would live in one day but even in my wild dreams I would not have imagined that strange feeling of belonging.

The plane landed at 9 A.M. Bonjour Paris, here I am, I thought while I was going out. Inevitable I remembered Rastignac and his Paris, a character of Balzac's "Father Goriot", a guy from province who goes to live in a French capital. I was doing pretty much the same thing as my permanence in Paris was of one month. After taking my luggage I went out of the airport building hoping to see my dad's friend but there was no sign of him. Initially I got panicked but after a while I calmed down and called my dad back to Italy as I didn't have a phone number of this taxi driver I saw for the last time while I was a little girl and barely remembered how he looked like. Later on I found out that the guy was expecting me in the evening, as he thought I would have arrived at 9 P.M, so I had to take the other taxi. It was the right occasion for practicing my French for the first time. I found one free taxi at the front door so I gave the address of my dormitory to a driver and after few minutes we left the airport heading to the town. During the journey I was chatting with the driver who was trying to show me importing buildings and surroundings on our way.

Since the very beginning, I had a strange feeling. My heart was beating so fast as I was excited to be there but it was not all about that. One part of me was scared because I felt like I was going back home. Everything was so familiar to me and it was not because I saw it on the pictures. I heard about this feeling, people call it déjà vu, already seen. I don't know was it really my case, but every day I spent in Paris I felt the same thing. It was so strong, so scary but also at the same time quite pleasant. I traveled a lot, I visited other cities known before only on pictures, but the feeling was not the same. Never again. On my way back to Italy I was so sad. I started to cry as we were departing and I couldn't stop myself. I didn't want to leave and I promised to myself that I would go back. Unfortunately, I had no occasion to go back but one day I will. I strongly believe in that.

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