All language subtitles for Nadja.in.Paris.1964.FRENCH.1080p.BluRay.H264.AAC-VXT.eng

NADJA IN PARIS

I live at the Cité Universitaire,
at the Germany House.

I'm American and Yugoslavian,

born in Belgrade,
American by adoption.

The Cité Universitaire reminds me
of American high schools.

It has the same
relaxed atmosphere.

Another difference:

There are people here
from all over the world.

The grass is not off limits,
which is rare in France.

You can walk and sit on it.

The grounds are extensive,

with playing fields
and tennis courts.

I don't participate in any sport

except for track.

Well, I run.

The trouble is...

we're so comfortable here,
we don't want to leave.

Everything I need for work or play

can be found right here.

Entertainment abounds,
such as concerts

and films.

Each house has
its own theater troupe.

This one is rehearsing a play
by Lope de Vega.

I told you to wait
until he finished his line.

The Latin Quarter
is five minutes away by subway.

I'm writing a thesis on Proust.

That's the official reason
for my stay in France.

It allows me the freedom
to organize my time as I wish.

Actually, my visits to the Sorbonne
are short and infrequent.

Before returning
to the Cité Universitaire,

I like to stroll
through the Left Bank,

full of antique shops
and bookstores.

What amazes me in France
are the open-air book displays.

You can browse freely

without anyone bothering you.

Then I sit at a table
outside a café.

The French love
to linger here for hours.

I stay only for a while.

- Is this what you ordered?
- Yes, thank you.

I have no specific aim.

I just sit.

I'm not waiting for anyone.
I simply want to be there.

I don't read. I observe.

I observe the street,

the way people walk,

the way they look at things.

I know
Saint-Germain-des-Prés well.

It's the neighborhood
that first caught my eye

when I arrived in France.

I suppose it's become gentrified
since Juliette Greco's day,

but you see
an interesting mix of faces there.

I feel more at ease
in Montparnasse.

The place is nothing special,
but it's a nice crowd.

People come here to talk,

not to see and be seen.

A certain intimacy
is quickly established.

I've made a lot of friends here
among the bohemians, painters,

and writers,
both Parisian and foreign.

It's easy to talk the night away.

The people I spend time with here
are usually older than me

and unconcerned
with the petty worries of student life.

It was they
who introduced me to modern art.

For me, who never made it
past Picasso's Blue Period,

it's a bit overwhelming.

I'm intrigued by all the theories,

but in the end,
they don't really influence me.

I head straight for what I like,

leaving the rest to others.

Some things I don't think
I'll ever be able to take seriously.

But all these people in Saint-Germain
and Montparnasse,

no matter how different
they may be,

belong to the same world.

I often feel the need
to get away from them

and escape the narrow confines
of Intellectual Paris.

I knew there was a park
at the far end of Paris.

I went there one day on my own,
and I return from time to time.

It's the Buttes-Chaumont.

I like this place
because it's empty and wild.

I know the streams are man-made

and the rocks are cement,

but it doesn't matter.

Nearby is the working-class
neighborhood of Belleville.

I've begun to explore it,
spending entire days there at a time.

When I'm hungry,
I head for a pastry shop.

I'd like that one.

What's it called?

A briwat.

- How much?
- Sixty cents.

One thing that's always surprised me
about the French

is the importance
they attach to food.

At noon, you must eat.

Once I heard a student spend
five minutes describing to a friend

the incredible steak he'd had
in a restaurant the night before.

I'm drawn to the outdoor markets.

You usually only see
the elderly there.

This part of Paris
is looked down upon

because it lacks historical interest.

I like its peeling signs,

its small, tree-filled squares.

This old lady comes here
every day at the same time

to sit on the same bench
and read a tattered newspaper

retrieved from a garbage can.

A glass of red.

That's no good.
Bad for the liver.

You shouldn't drink it.
- I'm used to it.

It doesn't bother me either.

Sometimes a sudden storm
keeps me from leaving.

Come on, it's legit.
My wife and kids will be there.

You don't work on Sundays.
- It's on Sunday?

I live close by. I've got a car.

It'll be fun.

Will you come?

People know I'm a foreigner here,

but they accept me.

They don't see me as an outsider.

I discovered
a world without problems,

a simpler world,
more typically French.

It really helped me let go

of the superficial things in my life.

What typifies Paris

is its endless variety.

You can easily slip
from one milieu to another.

It's a city that's truly open,

where you end up learning more about
yourself than you learn about the city.

I don't intend to stay, of course.

But I hope
I never lose touch with Paris.

My stay here
will leave its mark on me.

That's not surprising,
because this just might be

the most important period
in one's life,

when one shakes off
past influences...

and one's true personality is formed.