Hubsy, co-working space Paris, France
I wanted to check this place out, and I was desperate for caffeine, which they provide in unlimited quantities, along with all the cookies and juice and candy you want, for a mere 5 Euros per hour.
I have no idea how they can survive but right now, it works for me. I think Parisians don’t eat or drink much coffee.
For me, I’ve already finished my first cafe longe (double espresso) and am ready for my second, please.
It’s nice here, and today is my last day in the city.
In contrast to the start of every other day on this trip, I did not start out walking much.
Instead, I took the 4 Metro out to nearly the end. A stop called Chateau Rouge. I thought I might walk to Sacre Coeur Basillica, or Moulin Rouge, and just explore a new area.
As I exited the station, I heard an African drum song. The beats were traditional, but the drums were not. It was awesome and I stood in a wonderfully mixed race crowd enjoying it in the bright sunshine.
The neighborhood around us was a much different Paris than what I’ve been experiencing for the past ten days. More like Richmond.
And it made me a little sad that the even in a city as diverse as Paris, the poorest are always broadly defined by their darker skin, and more squalid living conditions.
I walked down the street a bit, past shops selling hair extensions and cheap luggage, discounted for Ramadan. Boarded up store fronts, something I’d not seen in this city before, lined the boulevard.
The walk to the basilica was half a mile, and though the sun was warm and the people friendly enough, I felt weary already.
Perhaps it was the lack of coffee, or the barely repressed crush of poverty pushing at the edges of the polite and wealthy Arrondissements, or the effect of walking so many miles in the past week, or maybe it’s just time to go home.
Whatever the case, I only made it a block or so before I turned around and went back to the Metro, no stomach for the grit of the “real” Paris today.
As I approached the station, the lively drum corps was silent, three National Police officers on bicycles had shown up and were standing there impinging on the fun.
Perhaps they needed a permit to continue and were waiting for someone to fetch it?
Whatever the case, no one looked distressed, but neither were they playing and dancing the Capoeira as they were when I’d walked away just a few minutes earlier.
I was glad to have caught them when I did and recorded their music as part of my Paris experience.
This may be the most profound lesson of travel, and indeed of life: there is no later.
If you run across some music, or the perfect cafe, or a lovely flower in bloom, stop and enjoy it now. There is no later.
What did you see?
#mymorningwalk
My Morning Walk is a brief window into life as I experience and think about it on the day and time indicated. All images are my own, copyrighted, and taken on the walk. If there are any links to purchase something, I may earn a small commission which will help me cover the cost of running this site. Thank you for visiting, it means a lot.
