It’s not Paris but I like it just the same ; that is not to say that I like it more so, but it’s a completely different experience. I imagine that Perpignan will feel more home-y than Paris ever would because Paris is it too magical to feel real; not quite as dream-like, Perpignan is an ordinary city with ordinary people, not the stylish Parisians who don’t give you the time of day.
It’s easy easier to get around here, now that I have a map and have already been as miserably lost as possible. The city feels smaller and there are not as many narrow streets as there are in Paris, the city that transcends both space and time. Less striking, Perpignan’s beauty reveals itself gradually, in a friendly and tangible manner. The city’s charms are much simpler and easier seen in its center where you can walk along the river lined by shops and cafés, and visit its gardens and monuments.
I’ve come to appreciate the little things in my suburban neighborhood : the delicious wafts of lavender I smell each time I pass by the bush off the side of the road; the French drivers who yield to pedestrian traffic; catching glimpses of the regional cheeses, breads, and tarts in store windows; the wind that seems to know just when I most need a lift; a culture of people who shop with reusable bags; the restaurants and cafés that would not trouble you to buy more or leave; watching the sunset from my window… the list will continue, I’m sure, in time …
Above all, what I value most about living in Paris and Perpignan alike is the beauty in each discovery. While tasks as simple as buying dishes or accessing the Internet are at first challenging, the struggle reminds me of life’s little pleasures, and once accomplished, the satisfaction is unparalleled.
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