The Trump Tourist

How many pages have been written about la Ville Lumiere? How many writers have fallen in love with Paris, where the magic comes at night when the street lamps draw flawed line of light on la Seine?
Yes, I will be one of them, I fell for that inexplicable magic which burns in the air of Paris and I moved there last summer, just for the sake of living there once in my life.
I still hear in my mind the music that was coming from the small radio that we had in the boulangerie where I found a job. Le Mulin de la Vierge, a small corner of pure Parisian life hidden from the crowned streets.
From the giant window of the shop I could see the Petit Pères Square with this small church just in front of the boulangerie. Every hour the bells ringed as to alert us of the time passing by while everything was staying the same. Me behind the counter, serving fresh baguettes, smelly croissant and giving chouquettes to every kid that entered the boulangerie just to see a smile. Behind that counter I was living my summer dream in Paris, day by day I saw the shining sun burning the square in front of me and ten minutes later people were hurrying to find a place to hide from the rain. This is Paris, small shops with vitrines full of sweet and colored pastries, French people glancing at them and then making a turn back and coming in the boulangerie, giving up on the temptation of this colorful pleasures put in the vitrines, making funny faces while deciding which one to choose.
I felt being part of something bigger then me, even if I was just working in a small boulangerie in Paris. I had amazing conversation just being behind a counter; one day an old lady, dressed as an existentialist, with the classic black turtleneck sweater and black pants was telling me what meant being part of the 68 students uprising and that new generations should wake up from their doziness.
Every morning from that corner of the boulangerie behind the counter I was discovering the world, I was discovering why artists have always fell in love with Paris, I was falling in love, I was already being nostalgic even if I hadn’t left yet.

If you’ll ever pass by that boulangerie, please glance at the vetrins just to check if everything is in place. Take a croissant and taste it, have a word with an elegant old lady in the district, tell me that the bell are still ringing and that everything is just the same, tell me that the time there is frozen so I can fell in love once again when I will come back.