The first time I went, I was 20 years old and had just returned from Australia. I was as miserable as could be but thought that the anti-dote to my sadness, sadness of being away from my first love, sadness at being alone, was a visit somewhere else, alone. Predictably enough, I had a miserable time. I stayed in a hostel, ate in cheap student restaurants, stood on the Champs Elisee and telephoned Australia. I prayed that being alone would get better.
Five years later, I wanted to move to Africa. But not having the courage to do so right away, I decided that a good medium might be to move to Paris, where the African music scene is far more developed than London and where there is a very good African dance school. I went for two weeks; I had a terrible time.
First of all, the people who said, "yeah, if you ever come to Paris, come and stay", well, they didn't mean it. So in fact I ended up staying in a hostel in the Marais district where I was surrounded by people, but somehow not the people I wanted to be surrounded by. I went to dance school every day, and I ate falafel. But the rest of the time I wandered the streets wishing I wasn't alone, wishing there was someone I could travel with, wishing I wasn't in such a beautiful city feeling so damn desolate.
Well, third time lucky. First up was an interview with two of the most delightful and down to earth (not to mention extraordinarily talented) musicians I have had the chance to work with. If you haven't yet seen the page on my website which tells you about the best music to go out and buy, then click here and find out about Senegalese diva Julia Sarr and her French musical partner, Patrice Larose.
In this song, Julia, backed by the flamenco-inspired Patrice, sings 'Yo lai xarr' which means, 'I'm waiting for you'. It's a very moving and slightly comic song about how frustrated she feels sometimes when she thinks about the fact that only fate, or God, will bring the right man to her, and that she can do nothing about it. I have loved this album for months and had a commission from a magazine to write about her, and got my chance to meet her in Paris.
Julia, Patrice and I met in a brasserie near the Seine and ate very good steak in a smoky but cosy conservatory restaurant. We talked about the music, about the fact that Senegalese rhythm and flamenco rhythm are in 6/8 time, hence the wonderful collaboration between the two cultures. Then we ate lunch and talked about immigration and France and politics and I had a great feeling of being amongst people who get it, who get me. It was a rare feeling to be having in what was to me always a desperately lonely city.
Julia is just beautiful. I don't know why I had any doubts- I've never seen her in concert but whenever I've talked to people who have, they simply rave about this angelic-like presence and voice which permeates the air she breaths. And the album, which in my opinion is one of the best things to have come out of the Franco-African world, is spectacular- complex, intricate, lyrical, challenging, and very very sweet. So to meet her and find out that she is also funny, talkative, stunningly beautiful and incredibly normal at the same time, well, it was an honour.
Saturday started slowly, but began properly with lunch in the 16th, near the Bois de Boulogne. I sat at a table on the pavement, the waiter brought me a jug of water and a table cloth, and I ate excellent quality and flavour food. It cost me 15 euros. How is it that even in the capital city, ordinary people with not-huge incomes can afford to go out and eat good food at a reasonable price? there are lots of things that aren't right with France, but their respect for the social event that is eating out without a song and dance, is enviable. Lunch led to Monet's waterlillies at the Marmottan Museum (free for journalists), followed by an amble in the woods.
Coming back into Waterloo this morning was pretty tough. One weekend of good food, art, music, interesting people, friends, reminded me of all the reasons I wanted to move to Paris in the first place- except it hadn't worked out and luckily I ended up going the whole hog and moving to Senegal instead. But I think if the power cuts, the mosquitoes, the crappy taxis, and the utter frustration that I feel on a daliy basis in Senegal becomes too much, then Paris could do nicely.
