One year in...

Jim's Musings from Paris

I’m sitting on our balcony in Paris watching it rain. It’s 2 AM. The heavy downpour dramatically ends an earlier than usual heatwave that sent temperatures soaring above 100 degrees Fahrenheit (38 degrees Celsius). Our apartment has no air conditioning. In fact, there is very little that is air conditioned in France. We keep the shades pulled and open the windows when the sun is not too strong to create some cross-ventilation. Luckily, we have windows on two sides and we often can catch a nice breeze from the park across the street. I am surprised, actually, how well I weathered the high temperatures. So far, I’m not missing air conditioning. My comfort level might change later in the summer as the humidity rises, but for now I’m content enjoying the dry heat, the cool rain, and our new Parisian life, one year in…

Sacre Coeur on a sunny day in Paris. Photo by Jim Slowiak.

Yes, it’s been one year since Jairo and I left the comforts of our 30+ years of life in Akron, Ohio and moved to Paris, France. Over the past year, I have often been asked what I miss most about our life in the USA. My answer is always the same: “Let me start by telling you some of the things that I don’t miss.” And I begin to list them.

I certainly don’t miss having a car. We had two cars in Akron and had to use them to do most daily tasks—getting to and from work and rehearsals, visiting friends, grocery shopping, even getting to the places where we could take a hike, enjoy a dinner out, or see a show. Now I take public transportation. With a very inexpensive annual Navigo pass for seniors (less than $40/month), I can take the bus, subway (Metro), commuter rail (RER), and even regional trains anytime I want. Or I just walk. My daily step totals have increased significantly in the past year as Paris offers most anything one could desire within an easy walk. No monthly car payment, weekly tank fill-ups, or expensive maintenance is required. It’s heaven.

I also don’t miss owning a house. We loved our home on Overwood where we lived for 16 glorious years. The classic colonial white house was a place where we hosted many special guests, threw some great parties, and could curl up on the sofa in front of the fire with a good book and a glass of wine. I was 50 years old when we finally bought a house. I don’t think my father considered me “grown-up” until I had a mortgage. But now I am perfectly happy being back to paying rent and not worrying about major appliance breakdown or fretting that a tree is going to fall on the roof or that the basement might flood whenever a storm is forecast . I understand the benefits of home ownership, but right now I am very happy to be free of property—unencumbered.

And I definitely don’t miss the University. It may be hard to believe that I have no nostalgia for the place where I worked for more than 30 years, but it’s true. I have often said that my job as Professor of Theatre at The University of Akron allowed me to do “my work” for a long time with a minimum of hassle and interference. I was able to teach and do research guided primarily by my own interests, direct shows that I chose, experiment and take risks, establish my own theatre company, write several books, travel and work internationally, and engage dynamically in the local and regional arts scene. And for all of that I am forever grateful. However, when in the last years at UA, the amount of hassle and interference by inept administrators became oppressive and unrelenting, the benefits of steady employment were soon outweighed by the toxic atmosphere and uninspired leadership. For me, UA’s bogus declaration of force majeure and subsequent reduction in force was a blessing. No, I don’t miss the University at all.

But what I do miss is people—my friends, family, colleagues, and collaborators. I don’t mention students because, for me, my students were always collaborators. In the past few weeks, the vacuum left by the many bonds we had forged in the US has been more apparent to me. This vacuum is not a negative thing. It’s a place of potential. Maybe I’m feeling the vacuum more viscerally right now because of recent visits by several family members, friends, and former students. The ease of speaking English with someone other than Jairo and the comfort of remembering former relationships and associations made me realize how much I have changed in the past year and showed me that I am surely on a journey of transformation. Even though there may be a vacuum right now, filling that vacuum in the next years promises to be a thrilling adventure. My ways of perceiving the world around me, articulating my thoughts and opinions, and meeting and interacting with others are all in process. Now is the time to create a “new Jim” or (as Grotowski may say) rediscover the “born Jim.” I feel like I’m “growing up,” in a good way, and it has nothing to do with having a mortgage.

Samantha, Jim, Jairo, Gabby, and Danny in front of the church next to our apartment. Selfie by Sam.

I think it’s fitting that at this moment, at the end of our sabbatical year, Jairo and I have been invited to Greece (Delphi, actually) in early July to participate in a conference on Grotowski: The Body and Memory. We begin our second year in Europe, gathering at the Temple of Apollo, the navel of the world, beneath the famous exhortation to “Know Thyself,” and armed with questions for the oracle. I’ll let you know how it goes. Right now I’m going back to watching the rain…

Addendum

The past month has left us breathless with the gloomy results from the French legislative elections, the glimmer of hope and change coming from Colombia’s voting in of its first ever liberal president, and the ridiculous US Supreme Court ruling that did away with Roe v. Wade, wiping out 50 years of women’s right to privacy and control of their own bodies. The gravity of what happened this week in Washington (in the middle of the January 6 Congressional hearings no less) can be understood once one realizes that this is the first time in US history that a citizen’s rights and freedoms have been reduced, not expanded, by the federal government. It’s a frightening moment and it has left many of us (a majority of US citizens, actually) angry and confused. I am depending more and more on Robert Reich to keep me sane during these crazy times. His Substack newsletters often put things in a healthier perspective for me. Read one of his latest missives here:

The rogue court and the fight ahead