As I sauntered down the Boulevard Saint-Germain, I swiftly forgot about feeling jet-lagged and disheveled from the red-eye flight from Miami. Paris has a way of assaulting your senses. This was my first time in Paris and I was mesmerized by its magnificence; the architecture, the monuments, the gardens.
The stonework of the Haussmann buildings defy gravity and the ornamentation has an elegance about it, almost regal. The sounds of Parisians speaking French, the language of love is harmonious, like listening to classical music. Not understanding a word, I imagined I was listening to an intellectual discussion about Simone de Beauvoir.
And then there were the aromas of freshly baked baguettes and croissants wafting from the boulangeries. I can close my eyes and envision biting into a flaky croissant, the taste of rich French butter making every bite memorable.
When I’m not in Paris, I dream of Paris. I know I’m not unique in that sentiment as Paris is not only the most visited city in the world but also has a large expat community. However, as a Francophile and lover of Paris, I feel I am unique in the sense that Paris was never on my radar until 2007.
My former obsession, Italy (more specifically Venice) was all I fantasized of when dreaming of faraway places, so much so that when I first read the book, “Eat, Pray, Love’ by Elizabeth Gilbert, I felt a kindred connection to Liz throughout her time in Italy, “…is it so awful to travel through time with no greater ambition than to find the next lovely meal? Or to learn how to speak a language for no other purpose than that it pleases you to hear it? Or to nap in a garden in a patch of sunlight, in the middle of the day, right next to your favorite fountain?” Immediately I thought, ‘I am her, she is me, we are one’.
I dreamt of living ‘la dolce vita’, the sweet life, cruising down the Grand Canal in a gondola while enjoying a frutti di bosco gelato fed to me by a dark and handsome Italian stud while he whispered in the most romantic Italian, “mi amore, bella, ti amo”. Then John said to me, “Just wait till you go to Paris.” I scoffed at him, literally. “Whatever”, I thought.
It wasn’t until that first trip to Paris that I realized what John had meant. I was immediately in love with this city. And it wasn’t the experience that you would imagine, a romantic getaway to Paris, sipping champagne with a view of the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the background. It was only two short days, one of which, as I mentioned earlier, I was jet-lagged.
It was the middle of December and the weather was quite dreary, cold and rainy. I have been quoted as saying, “I don’t do cold and I don’t do wet.” Well, I was doing both, cold and wet, tromping all over and rarely taking the metro, with my feet feeling cold and damp through my thin-canvassed Converse. It didn’t faze me in the least…the cold and wet that is. John says Paris gets a ‘free-pass’ from me…the city can do no wrong.
I think we walked every square inch of the city. Not really, but it certainly felt like it. In two days, I managed to see what takes most a few days. We visited the Louvre and D’Orsay museums, Notre Dame Cathedral, walked through the Tuilleries, went to Montmatre, walked all through St. Germain de Pres and Latin Quarter, down the Champs Elysees and went to the summit of the Eiffel Tower. Of course, there were many stops in cafés and bistros. I ate all the traditional fare, escargot, moulettes et frites, boeuf Bourgignon, and an obscene number of croissants.
But it isn’t this touristy side of Paris that I’ve fallen in love with. The Paris I have come to love is beautiful beyond the sites. Yes, it’s also flawed. I know many of the people that I have toured in Paris love it the way I do, but there have been some who are not so enamored.
Like any large city, it can be dirty and smelly. The metro, as efficient as it is, can be quite grimy. The Parisians love to smoke. For Americans, or at least for older Americans, the smoking can sometimes be overwhelming. Last year, as we sat outside the café at Hotel du Nord, there was a young couple next to us. I admired the young lady. She was beautiful and chic and so effortlessly put together as only Parisian women can be. However, I was dismayed that in the hour or more they sat there, she had a lit cigarette in her hand the entire time.
As I made my way from the Grands Boulevards into the soul of Paris, I discovered how easy it is to look beyond the flaws and appreciate everything this city has to offer. I hope you continue to come back so I can share with you all that I love about Paris.
