Not a Tourist Anymore?

“Non-Tourist” Feeling
I travel into the city of Paris and back home again on the RER B trains, with other commuters and locals going about their business, all chatting in French, to each other or on their cell phones, or reading a French newspaper—Le Monde is popular, but so are the free ones found on the trains and train platforms: Metro, Matin Plus, 20 Minutes. I feel comfortable and part of this group now as I’ve done this trip so many times and it’s become very familiar. Especially on the days when I too can find one of those free papers to read, or I’m carrying a green plastic shopping ‘sac’ (bag) with a few groceries I picked up at a small local supermarket, such as Intermarche or Franprix. It’s only when we reach the perimeter of the city that I begin to hear some passengers using other languages—frequently Italian, sometimes English, Spanish, or German.
A Feeling of Belonging
My comfortable feelings are augmented unexpectedly. One day, when I was trying to retrace part of a walk from “The Impressionists’ Paris”, I walked through the Institute de France onto Quai Malaquais at Pont des Arts (which crosses the Seine at the Louvre). Many tourists were there, taking many photos, checking their guidebooks, and browsing the ‘bouquinistes’ (special book and prints sellers) along the edge of the river. I had a sudden feeling that I wasn’t quite like them—I could wander more slowly, I could return tomorrow, or next week if I wanted. I didn’t feel like a tourist at that moment, in that spot. It felt like somehow I belonged here, that I really did live here, that for the time being this was my city.
It was an amazing sensation!
(one of the many bouquinistes)
(on Pont des Arts)