Without doubt apart from those who have lost loved ones, the global pandemic has probably hit those of us hardest, those of us who miss sharing a laugh and a toast with loved ones on a seaside bar, always be the last one to leave the table at the tavern, coming back home carrying our shoes, our feet covered in sand, constantly hugging and kissing each other, in other words those of us who really DO love to live.
And it hit us right when we had just moved to Paris, the capital city of the cafés where the culture of socialization has reached a subtle perfection.
Although once we were the last ones to leave a club in Istanbul, recently feeling a little resentful of everything, we had already retreated our tables and long drinks with friends back within the walls of our homes. But, remembering a Turkish saying about how our minds feed from each other, now we find ourselves looking for alternatives to keep ourselves from collecting dust at home, left on our own.
Actually, against all odds, life in Paris is still really not that bad: I’m watching the constructors from the building across the street enjoying a cold beer at lunch on the corner café, still in their overalls. The elderly gentleman of the neighborhood, a coffee in his hand, in his fedora hat and cashmere coat, ordering whiskey or rum shot makes me happy in the morning. It is possible and amazing to watch the sun set and the moon rise at the same time from the top of Montmartre.
The city culture, which has unfortunately migrated away from my country along with the minorities, makes me feel better every day here, in Paris.
Sometimes I miss the tourist groups hanging around the corner that I used to complain about before.
And of course sometimes, inexplicably on a Sunday afternoon usually, when I feel lonely, disappointed, angry, fearful and sad, I pour myself a double rum or calvados. I look at all my feelings through 40% proof alcohol. I try to keep myself still as a rock, grounded against the current of a river and I start to feel cleansed. Strong, healing, exciting feelings show themselves and flow through me. I feel that the stronger and more traditional drinks flow better into the spirit of these times.
And at the end of the day, just as Vincent Van Gogh told his brother Theo;
“And mind my dear fellow, Paris is Paris. There is but one Paris and however hard living may be here, and if it became worse and even harder - the french air clears up the brain and does good - a world of good.”
I hope that the days when we will spread out to crowded tables on a sidewalk café and raise our glass to good times are not that far away.
Gülçin Sargın Beşer