*Cue cheesy “coming-of-age” post (with the added flare of the Paris backdrop)*

I recently went back to France to visit my “French sister”, drink copious amounts of wine, and get absolutely no sleep. It had been about 5 years since my last visit, and everything had both changed and remained the same. Let’s go back in time 5 years ago, to when I was just a naive 17 year old, seemingly lost and confused in the tiny French city of Agen. I entered Agen at the dead of night after a terribly long and uncomfortable plane ride sitting by myself. I was picked up by my new French family and together we drove from Toulouse to Agen (a short 2.5 hour drive to add to the transit time). My French sister was a tall, strikingly French 16 year old girl, Emilie, and she was wild beyond belief to my innocent 17 year old self. Cigarettes, heavy booze, and some stuff [appropriately] called “shit” (because they didn’t know what they were smoking) aided her and her friends in making the most of the small-town, southern France summers. It was then that I realized that the French can do almost anything and still look incredibly classy. Fast forward 5 years and I’m sitting in my French sister’s Parisian flat located in “the center of the center of the center of everything in Paris,” having just arrived from Barcelona (once again I have arrived at the dead of night), and we are two bottles of red wine in already. Air thick with a combination of cigarette smoke and weed, I was pleased to find out that regardless of the time that has passed since our last encounter, Emilie and I were still the confused and helpless romantics we were when we were 17.

Though I was only there for a couple days, I feel like I gained a part of myself that was missing since my last visit to France. The Parisians are honest, both with others and, most importantly, with themselves. It’s extremely difficult not to appreciate beauty and life when you’re living in the “global center for arts, fashion, gastronomy, and culture.” Even if you’re a sleep deprived, hungry, broke backpacker in one of the most expensive cities in the world, you do as the locals do: chug an espresso, scarf down a baguette, smoke two cigarettes, and say “well at least we’re in Paris.” That was the lifestyle there. Make just enough to get by in this crazy city. From falling asleep in a park to dancing to obscure, new-age techno in underground clubs, the city of Paris took me and shook me until I realized the fundamental principles of the Parisian way of life: “This is Paris, so who cares what they think?”

Which allows me to segway into the [embarrassingly cliched] topics of love, tattoos, and growing up.

Love comes and goes like the wind. This sounds so cheesy, and I cringed even while I was typing it out, but it’s true. Sometimes it just hits you like a huge gust of wind, it’ll rattle you up for a bit and then leave. Other times it’s slow and smooth and calming. It cools you down and clears your mind. Neither are inherently good nor bad. I learned that it’s okay to try for love again and again and again (reminiscent of a Maya Angelou quote). But, don’t take dating seriously all the time. Know the difference between wanting someone to physically be there and wanting someone to emotionally be there. Pull the plug on old relationships that aren’t working out, but forgive yourself for the baby hiccups you have along the way. Be a romantic in every aspect of your life. Fall in love with people and places and foods and emotions and objects. Just appreciate each and everything around you.

If you want a tattoo, then get one already! The point of the tattoo isn’t just to permanently ink your skin, but it serves as a reminder for something that was importnant to you. Even if it isn’t relatable to you in the future, it’ll be something that was once on your mind and something that you desired and loved and were interested in and that deserves to be marked on your body. It’s like adding essences to your soul and allowing the world to see something intimate and personal about you. It’s not for everyone, but if you’ve been considering one for a long time, just get it already. I promise you won’t regret it, even if you can’t relate to your Zelda tattoo in 20 years from now. Just make sure you get a good tattoo artist.

Finally, I distinctly remember being 17 and feeling like I couldn’t get any older. College? Let’s not think about that. After college? Working? Getting married? I could make myself vomit with those thoughts. And yet, here I am, a 22 year old college graduate following the same tumblr blogs, ordering the same drinks at Starbucks, and still completely against the idea of marriage (okay not completely, but thinking about it still makes me want to puke). Everything has both changed and stayed the same and that’s both comforting and scary. But, 22 years old isn’t the end of the world. I can’t even believe I once thought I’d be saving up for retirement at 22. I don’t think I’m a different person as I was the first time I visited France, but instead I’ve just grown more into myself. I’m more me. And as the year go on, I’ll just keep on becoming more me, which includes everything that made up 17 year old me and everything that is currently making up 22 year old me.

So, you could say I was inspired when I went to Paris. I think it’s one of the most hyped up cities in the entire world, but rightly so. I know that the people of Paris get a lot of flack for possibly having an “attitude” and acting sort of “purist” in a sense, but I was only met by people who loved their city more than they loved the people (read: tourist) in it. And hey, who could blame them?