As I cautiously stood up from the low-backed uncomfortable chair of the Parisian metro, the operator’s voice resounded within the underground railway, announcing my arrival to Belleville, a colorful and international neighborhood in the North-East of Paris. I almost inconceivably made my way through the tumultuous crowd towards Boulevard de Belleville, where new surroundings were waiting for me to exhaustively explore them. As I walked through the subway tunnels, I couldn’t help but notice the light-blue tiles that delineated them. Strangely, within these, I saw thousands of “S”s. I squinted my eyes when exiting the metro station, as my pupils adjusted to the powerful light that shone over the vivid and distinctive area of Belleville. My journey began only a few meters away, in the park that acquires the neighborhood’s name, so high up, that the horizon line appears infinitely distant, making the city of Paris incredibly vast and immeasurable. As I attentively observed the numerous buildings before my eyes, I couldn’t help but concentrate on the delicacy and elegancy of the Tour Eiffel, which prominently emerged from the faraway ground.
The weather was gradually changing, as clouds covered the sky and hid the sun, allowing me to scrutinize my environment with different eyes. The atmosphere grew dimmer and I directed myself towards the narrow alleys of Belleville. In the absence of light, everything seemed intimidating, but my unplanned adventure began nevertheless. The graffiti almost fully covered the walls of Belleville, giving the neighborhood vibrancy and vivacity despite the insufficient sunshine. Furthermore, the multi-ethnic district encouraged me to curiously pause in front of several shops, restaurants or hairdressers, each styled and organized in a variety of different ways.
As the sound of my feet hitting the ground echoed within the silent streets, I decided to follow the path that my instinct suggested. After the numerous “S”s I had seen within the unilluminated metro station, I decided my aim was to find letters of the alphabet around the neighboring area; within street signs, cracks in the concrete pavements, railings, graffiti, and colorful tiles. This investigation not only allowed me to focus on the details that surrounded me, which I would have probably ignored if I were only strolling through the alleys, but it also challenged me in looking at usual and everyday objects in a different manner. I suddenly discovered that a curved street lamp placed upside down looks like a “J,” that the corner of a wooden blue door may represent an “L,” or how the television antennas on top of the typical Parisian roofs could potentially resemble an “F.” After hours of exploration; of seeing letters within the simplest entities, I completed my journey by retracing my path through memory.
I entered the metro station, descending the stairs whilst the cold wind was forcefully striking my skin, and my pupils, once again, adjusting to the darkness of the underground railway. I hopped on the nearing metro, and sat on one of its usual low-backed uncomfortable chairs.
Following this experience, I genuinely believe most of the cities I have visited, neighborhoods I have explored, and seas I have swam in, I have never truly known. Have I been taking my vision for granted, and have I been witnessing my surroundings superficially?
I took this dérive in its true and honest meaning, and I permitted myself the action of drifting away. Sometimes I wonder how the experience could have been if I had lived it under divergent circumstances; maybe at night or at an older age. But of one thing I’m sure: I aspire to drift away in every way, humanly possible.
