Cavan to Paris: A change of pace!

Through Immigrant Eyes

After three years of living in County Cavan, I thought I had got used to the contrast between rural Irish life and the rest of the world. Our days are fairly predictable: work, home, the usual errands, and the occasional cow staring at us from the other side of a fence. So when we went to Paris, it felt as though someone had turned the volume up on life. I had almost forgotten what it was like to be surrounded by so many people.

The streets were busy, cafés were full, the Metro seemed to arrive every couple of minutes, and there was always somewhere to go and something happening. You could order food at two in the morning without having to explain to the delivery driver what farm to pass, which gate to turn at and why the satnav was probably wrong.

In our part of Cavan, getting a takeaway delivered is a small logistical achievement. Paris also brought back memories of Odesa, where I used to live. I hadn’t expected that. I was walking around the city when I started noticing familiar architectural details and streets that reminded me of home. I even filmed one of the opera houses because it looked remarkably like Odesa railway station.

It made me think that every city has its own landmarks: Paris has the Eiffel Tower, Odesa has the Potemkin Stairs. And somehow, in the middle of Paris, I found myself thinking about a city on the Black Sea. Another thing that caught my attention was how busy Paris was - even on a Monday.

I had assumed that the weekend crowds would disappear once the working week started, but the streets seemed just as lively. I remember looking around and thinking: Do these people not have jobs? Or is everyone simply having a much better Monday than I am?

What surprised me most, though, was how much I enjoyed walking. We spent hours exploring the city, and I never seemed to get tired. Usually, after a long day on my feet, I am ready to go home and put my feet up. In Paris, I could keep going. There was always another street I wanted to see, another building to look at, another corner that made me stop and take a photograph. I wasn’t counting the kilometres or checking how long we had been walking. I was just enjoying being there.

We did have one small adventure on the Metro. My husband and daughter decided to get on a train to see where it was going. I didn’t get on. I thought we would have time to sort it out, but the doors closed and off they went. Just like that. I was left on the platform while my family disappeared into the Paris underground. My husband found the situation rather funny; our daughter was less impressed. Luckily, we met at the next station. It wasn’t exactly the grand Parisian adventure I had imagined, but at least we all got to see a little more of the Metro system than planned.

The thing is, I think I needed this trip more than I realised. Our everyday life in Ireland has become quite busy. Between working long hours, sometimes taking extra shifts, keeping up with the house, bills and all the other things that seem never ending, it’s easy to get stuck in a routine where every day is organised around what needs to be done next.

In Paris, I didn’t have to think about any of it. I could spend the day walking around, looking at beautiful buildings, stopping for food or simply watching the city. I didn’t feel tired, even though we were on our feet for hours. It wasn’t just the excitement of being somewhere new. I felt lighter. I had time to notice things, to be curious, to enjoy the day without constantly thinking about the next chore.

And then we came home. I expected to miss Paris, but I didn’t quite expect to miss the person I had been there. The one who could walk all day without worrying about the time, who didn’t have a list of jobs waiting at home, who wasn’t already thinking about tomorrow’s shift.

For a few days, life had been wonderfully simple. Of course, the bills hadn’t disappeared while we were away, and neither had the laundry. Work was waiting, the routine was waiting, and so was Cavan.

On one of my first days back, I looked out and saw a cow standing behind the fence, watching me. She seemed perfectly content with how things were. No Eiffel Tower, no Metro, no need to check where the train was going. I suppose it’s good to have both worlds. Although I wouldn’t mind borrowing the Parisian version of myself for a little longer.