pre-conceived notions of parisians

Shortly before leaving for Paris, I'd begun distancing myself from my circle of friends at home. For a while, I'd felt somewhat displaced within the mid-west. I'd had a number of friends in Chicago, but few who I could connect with beyond a shallow level. Due to this lack of interest, many of my relationships had begun to deteriorate. I figured I needed a break from the only culture that I'd known. 

More than anything, I'd wanted to discover people with similar interests in arts and literature. I was sick of the quasi-intellectuals of Chicago, whose tastes streamed from the opinions of pretentious blogs, and the burning desire to portray oneself as an indie kid. It has been a constant struggle for me to identify with other people with such artificial opinions and such limited tastes. 

In my mind, Paris had been the mecca of the true intellectuals. It was where my favorite writers had escaped to, where my favorite thinkers had sat in cafes and argued philosophy, and where art had been deeply integrated into the culture. It seemed to me that Paris was the ideal place to escape to. 

Throughout my stay, I've met a number of French people who had not quite fit these ideals. Most of the young people that I've met here have exhibited limited interest in art, philosophy, cinema. etc. Most of them work in business fields, and only really express interest in house music and hollywood films. Perhaps i've just been looking in the wrong places, or perhaps its just a generational thing. Regardless, I plan to spend this final month finding the interesting and intelligent people that I know are living somewhere beneath the surface.