It's every girls dream to live in Paris. The city of love: synonym of fashion, architechtural wonders, glamour and passion. I've had a dream about living in Paris a long time ago. And one day my dream became reality, only for me to realize I didn't want it anymore...
From the very beginning on, I've been yearning to leave Paris. Go somewhere that feels more like home. It was a weird feeling, because it wasn't the first time I had left the safety of family surroundings to move into a new city. And to be honest, this move was actually the easiest one. I have a nice place, in a nice area, a good job with a not too shabby salary. The situation had been worse on plenty of occasions.
When I was 18 and moved away it was all exciting and new. I rarely felt homesick. In college I was surrounded by my friends and two months holidays usually helped me tank up energy for another semester far away from home. But school is not the real life. When you're in school there is still some room to just quit, go home, lick your wounds and start again. Work on the other hand is not that simple. You can't just quit, because you're upset or homesick. You can't just take holidays whenever you want. You need to plan ahead. Pay your bills. Live the real life as they like to call it.
Living in Paris has not been the experience I've dreamed of. It surely has been glamourous but the love and the beauty of the city have gotten lost along the way at some point.
My sister blogged about Paris and how we need to build a relationship with the city we live in, and she made me realize something. I've been making up excuses to explain my unhappiness about living in one of the most gorgeous cities in the world, I kept on telling anyone that would listen to the whining that: "Home is where the heart is. And my heart is with my family and friends in the Philippines". Hearing my sister speak about Paris in a way, that I once used to think of it like, I've finally figured out what's wrong. I left my heart far, far away, somewhere between my two homes Munich and Manila, locked in a safe, with a big, thick vault door guarding it, fearing I would break it, if I brought it with me to Paris.
Moving to Paris meant moving away from everything I've ever known. It meant suddenly being at the very least one flight away. It meant that if I was going to get hurt, no one would be there to catch me if I fell. At least that's what I thought...
I left my heart in what used to be my home instead of bringing it here to build a new one. So it won't be easy and I can't promise anything, but I'll try bringing my heart back to Paris and see the city for what it really is. My new home.
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