Have you ever been confronted by a crepe vendor* about your life choices?
I have. Just once.
It was a Thursday night and I had just arrived in Paris. I was one week shy of 25, had quit my job the week before, and didn’t really have a long-term plan.
And yet, in spite of my tumbleweed status, I was excited. Everything seemed to be going alright, both in life and in my travels.
I had a moderate income stream coming in from a new freelance job and a European visa that didn’t expire for another year. I had found an apartment I could temporarily rent in Florence, and finally free of my desk job, I was able to come to the city of lights on a weekday.
Despite having done minimal research about public transport from the airport, I had found my Montparnasse hostel with no trouble. The receptionist spoke Italian, and we bonded over our love for living abroad. Plus, there was a big fluffy dog sitting at the entryway who greeted me on my way in.
I checked in and immediately headed out. It was dark but not late and I could see the Eiffel Tower in the distance. I figured there was no harm in moving towards the landmark and stretching my legs as long as I could retrace my steps to get back home.
Right as I entered the plaza where the tower stood, it started shimmering. I had arrived at the top of the hour, just in time for the light show. I plopped down in the cool grass to soak it all in. A poetic moment. I was completely alone, but somehow it felt more romantic that way.
After five minutes of marveling at the marvel in front of me, my stomach started to rumble. I hadn’t made a dinner plan and those crepes smelled awfully good. So I ambled over and tried to order one in French. The only problem was that I didn’t speak French. The young vendor immediately outed me and asked me where I was from.
I explained that I was an American living in Italy and told him about what I did for a living. He nodded.
Then, as he smothered my dinner in Nutella, he asked a rather direct question for a crepe vendor.
“Do you like your life?”
I blinked. Did I hear that right?
I thought for a second before responding yes. The honest answer.
There were plenty of things I wanted to change, sure. I wanted to earn more money, become a real writer, contribute something of value to the world, buy an apartment in Tuscany, etcetera etcetera. But in general, I liked where I was headed. I loved the art of vagabond life, traveling hither and thither, toting my laptop along with me, and having deep conversations with crepe vendors under glimmering landmarks.
“Do you like yours?” I asked him back. It was only fair.
“Yes.” A beat and then. “I like crepes.”
And sometimes it’s as simple as that.
We’re not all lucky enough to have a mentor or close friend who encourages us to check in with ourselves. Going with the flow is applauded by society, being grateful for what we have is a virtue, and wanting more is often equated with being greedy.
But every now and then, you owe it to yourself to step in, or rather take a step back, and act as your own overly direct crepe vendor by asking yourself the hardest question.
Do you like your life?
And if the answer is no, ask yourself this: what do you want your life to be about?
Maybe the answer is writing, teaching, traveling, medicine, service. Art, film, cooking, communication, community.
Maybe it’s as simple as crepes.
If it feels good to you, it feels good to you. That’s all you need to know.
*Crepe man, if you’re reading this, I appreciate you.
