day 1 picture postcard
Paris is for lovers – but not just in the classical sense………….
Yes, I am still here. I took a brief respite from writing on my blog for a few weeks as I spent the time leading up to June 1 pondering the adventure I was about to embark upon.
I have long been perplexed with the pervasive commentary on the scourge of the tourist in our culture. I am now and will be forever, in the category of “tourist”. I dream to be a tourist in all the magical places that float in my mind daily. There is just one exception to my objection to the negative status of “tourist” and that applies to the dangerous overload and detriment to the city of Venice. More on that in another post.
Here I am, in the City of Light, for my first long term visit to anywhere other than Cape Cod, ever. I am here to not really play “tourist”, but to play “Parisian”, a distinction which may remain in only my mind. Actually, I have been here for almost a week already.
Yes, those of you who know me know that I have yearned for some time to behave in the manner of the classical Parisian (and, the classical European, but let’s just take this one step at a time). One iteration of this yearning involves this wish: to walk everywhere, and rather than drive to Whole Foods every day and assemble a basketful of necessities, I wish to stop at the frommagerie, the patisserie, the boucherie, le boulangerie, fleuriste …… on my way home, carrying in my ever-present sack those little items that, when assembled a little later avec un aperitif, will become my supper.
I have been here since last Jeudi, and before I know it, the first week will be up already! If you are someone like me, with a very rigid body clock, it does indeed take a while to adjust to the new time zone. So, while I am getting a late start in the mornings – I’m not nosing around the gardens at 6am as I would be at home, I am packing in a pretty full day considering my fatigue, fitness (lack thereof) and sore feet issues.
This week the weather has resembled Autumn and that’s just fine with me, in fact, it’s parfait. I do indeed hope it will continue this way for my entire stay which, if you follow me on instagram, you know is huit semaines.
We are nestled here up in the 16th arrondissement, in a most beautiful neighborhood of Paris. George and I had stayed over in Victor Hugo the last time we were here for a few days and I really became attached to it. So, when it came to selecting an area to stay, I voted for the 16th rather than being in the more bustling, yet convenient areas. I like venturing out to my favorite spots along the Seine and environs during the day and then returning here at the end of the day. I suppose you could equate this to roaming around mid-town and downtown New York and then retreating to the UES as domicile.
On Lundi, I sort of overdid it, walking-wise – I expect that I trekked about 8 miles in my oldest and dearest pair of distressed-looking Chanel flats, which aren’t really fit to be seen here in chic Paris. As I trekked up Avenue President Wilson on the return, I wondered how no one else in Paris looks as though they have sore feet. Keeping a keen eye on everyone’s footwear has become somewhat of an obsession and I expect that I will have to do that ugly-American thing of wearing sneakers, and thereby giving away my status as “tourist”. Beautiful footwear, like beautifully-tailored men’s suits are a hallmark of Parisian life.
I want to examine the contradiction of the term “tourist”. Let’s do a little “on one hand, on the other”….
On one hand, what would we humans be without the notion of tourism? It is completely inherent in the human species to be nomadic, to wander for survival, and for enrichment as well. If indeed, we lost this instinct or decided it would be more safe or prudent to do our travels by way of virtual experience, as we are sometimes forced or inclined to do, by books, and other media, or in a classroom, we would be utilizing less of our senses, non? And, as we know by virtue of evolution, when utility is lost so are the sensibilities associated with it. This would be, well, tragique!
On one hand, being a tourist represents the lovely indulgence of going somewhere you want to go and seeing, hearing, eating, breathing all of the experiences that are enriching to you. But, disdain is also associated with the tourist. One is apt to be labeled as some crass interloper (notably in a baseball cap and sneakers) that no one wants traipsing around and seemingly polluting the purity of their own home-grown and protected atmosphere. My favorite movie-born image is from A Good Year, with Russell Crowe and Marion Cotillard. An American tourist is heard and seen in a cafe, ordering a “Salad Nis-wozz-A” with something akin to fat free dressing on the side – perhaps it captures the ultimate insulting cliche of the American. Russell Crowe’s classic reply is a haughty dismissive “fish and chips in Marseilles”. Bah!
What would the economy of places like Paris or New York be without tourism? Granted, I avoid the avenues of tourists in New York like the plague, mostly because they don’t appeal to me anyway. I pick and choose carefully. Here, though, I’m game and intrigued in just about every single venue – I can’t think of one corner that I haven’t been happy in.
Anyway, we all know that economies in many locales on this planet depend, and deeply, on the dollars (euros) from those dreaded tourists – and more and more so as the inherent economic structures twist and turn in the winds of change.
I consider myself to be a very novice European traveller. I have been over here quite a few times now but I measure my benchmark not upon how many check-marks appear on the list of top ten venues to visit, but on how well and how deeply I have gotten to know a particular place. As I have said before on this blog, and you can search out and read all of my posts on European visits in the search box, I love to feel the essence of the place grow up through my feet from each and every cobbled stone.
Paris is a place of intense beauty. I suppose I love it so much because their apparent obsessions match up with mine quite closely. I would list my top ones as architecture, food, flowers, gardens, skylines, vistas and every form of art. (I do have to add my rapture with the sound of their language, the lilt and inflection in their voices, and their kindness – those who give the French a bad rap are doing something wrong.)
Such are a few of the classifications that flow up and cloak you in beauty. Even on a moody day, and there tend to be more than a few in Paris, the city grabs you and wraps you there in its aura. Some of my favorite moments here have been in gloomy climes, strolling around the Jardin du Luxembourg (2015) and at a frigid dusk in late March around the Place de la Concorde while waiting for Ryan to arrive by train from London (2013). The word that sums it all up for me is romantic.
Anyway, it is my ambition to feel as though I live here rather than that I am visiting on this stay. It will be interesting to see if 8 weeks will do it (I have already bought 4 pots of herbs for our apartment – what does that tell you? And, I was completely tempted to buy a gorgeous rose bush today – for 45E yikes.) I am well past the “visit the top tourist spots” mode as I’ve been here enough to cover most of them. I’m now off into neighborhood combing, if you can call it that. I want to feel the sense of each and every spot as I roam outward from the centers and from our neighborhood.
So, if you’d like, come along with me as I explore, please do. I hope to absorb the Parisian’s continuing obsession with intense beauty and many of the glorious luxuries that to a great extent have been lost in the U.S. – little specialties like pristine French linens and neighborhood cook shops that, at home have been replaced with Bed and Bath and Williams Sonoma – chains that are exactly the same in hundreds, if not thousands of locales. I am hell bent on indulging my eyes if not my pocketbook here.
As is every place of great beauty, it would be sad to think that Parisians take all of this for granted. But, judging by the jubilant response seen after the recent election and after ugly incidents such as yesterday’s at Notre Dame, I believe Parisians have their sensibilities and defense and defiance well intact. A bientot!
Some highlights from the photo gallery so far:
Les Fleurs, les plantes
these most exquisite of roses in a shop on Victor Hugo yesterday:
from the Patisseries:
Scenery:
Specialities that are rare in U.S.
Au revoir et demain………..