This is a wonderful French word. And it’s very Parisienne in nature. Flanerie: to take a wander around a city just to look and smell and absorb.
I’ve JUST today settled on my first apartment. The keys are sitting here on my table. It’s big. For me. The purchase is part of my latest experiment: getting anchored…so that I have a sturdier base from which to flit and fly. Which is what I like doing best.
You might find this odd. My apartment – in stark contrast to where I’ve been the past two years – is in the middle of the most densely populated suburb in Sydney (and, for that matter, Australia). It ain’t no tin shed in the forest!
I’m nervous about being around so much humanity and humming and freneticness and smell. But I feel it’s time for me to get cool with humanity and to be truly in and amongst it. Can’t go over it, can’t go around it, must go through it.
Which brings me to the beauty of flanerie. The French do this on a Saturday afternoon in Paris. They don’t wander around shops and buy shit they don’t need. The French have simple tastes. Excess is deemed vulgar. Instead, they wander the streets, dropping in for a coffee or an aperitif at cafes. Cafes, where the chairs face outwards