This morning, I had a coffee and croissant by the sea. It made me think… I miss the way I could just sit by the beach and work on my laptop when I was in Australia. I can’t do that here, no matter how much I search for a place. All the good coffee is within the walls of a town or city, where it feels compressed and restrictive. I end up feeling a little suffocated and can’t work for very long as a result. I feel the traditional cafes here are made to bring people together for conversation, and not necessarily as a space where you can sit quietly in your own bubble. It’s not good or bad, just a cultural difference.
This morning, I managed to find a little place that opens only during the summer with a few little tables and chairs standing beside. An old man came out of the little boxy kitchen smiling with a tray for me, croissant on one side and a shot of espresso on the other. I didn’t quite feel comfortable to take out my laptop and start working, so I just watched the sea, enjoyed my little breakfast and missed what it would be like back home.
My eyes dragged down the coastline of Juan les Pins. Honestly, I didn’t like it. Little patches of sand, interrupted by restaurants pressing their weight down on the earth and practically spewing into the water. Although these places have an atmosphere at night, during the morning it is not pleasant for me to see. France is more of a dinner culture I think, and Australia is more of a breakfast place. Over there, the busiest and best times are in the morning. The cafes don’t feel small even if they physically are… they feel big with lots of windows and space for the air to flow through, as if the building itself is breathing. In this part of France, I feel that there are places which try to bring the same kind of atmosphere as in Australia… but my heart is not fooled. It’s just not the same.
I stopped mid-thought for a moment and realised that my brow was creased. I had become engrossed in pessimism and didn’t even realise it. I flattened out my forehead with my fingers for good measure, and took another bite of my croissant. A man passed by on his morning walk, he was looking at me with a smile and said bon appetit. This little moment reminded me why I am here. No one does that in Australia – walk by as you’re eating and say “enjoy your food!” I say thank you to him and smile to myself. Going back to the little things is like following a desire line path out from the bush and onto the shore. It’s the best way to contentment.
No place is perfect, there are good and bad things everywhere. But I don’t believe that decisions can be made with the brain, it’s always best to be made with the heart. When your brain is not satisfied it can torment you for a while, and you can spar with it in terms of logic. But when your heart is dissatisfied, it will slowly but surely drain you of joy and this will be so nonsensical that it will render you numb. It’s not a good place to be.
Sometimes I ask myself, why do I want to live here in France? It’s so far from perfect. But I suppose it’s like choosing a life partner. You don’t choose someone because they are perfect… you choose someone because the combination of your imperfection and their imperfection is too satisfying to resist any longer.
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