What Makes Paris Unforgettable
Paris is just as fabulous as when I saw it last time. Let me tell you why.
Paris is just as fabulous as when I saw it last time.
The Seine still splits itself around the Île de la Cité island on which the Notre Dame cathedral stands, the river sparkling in the September sun.
The Pont des Artes bridge still has the same wooden plank floor, which makes it a little more magical and romantic than the rest. Or maybe I just missed walking on it.
The Saint-Germain area still boasts street upon street of those small and narrow bookstores and art shops, mixed with fine pastry shops and delis — the famous épiceries. Some walls have plaques showing where famous writers had lived, while in cafes next door Parisians start ordering lunch at 11:30 am.
The City Hall, always sumptuous with those grey Parisian slate roofs, now adorned with the ‘Paris 2024 Olympics’ branding. It all somehow blends in so perfectly, the architecture and the modern sports paraphernalia.
Another walk along the Seine. Seeing the bouquinistes still feels the same as the first time I saw them, many moons ago. But now the bouqinistes seem to sell fewer bouquins (books) and more posters and plastic souvenirs of Parisian cliches.
The 1,000+ art galleries of Paris
The Royal Palace garden is full of people.
Tourists, working professionals on their lunch break and students, all line up on the benches and squat on the pavement along the walls surrounding the gardens. Paris belongs to its people. People in Paris live in, on and around all the cultural and architectural wonders.
This is the true beauty of Paris, that art de vivre we all love to experience there. There are countless art galleries in which people pop in for ten minutes after finishing their sushi box on the bench in the Place des Vosges park. Art permeates people’s daily lives because it’s accessible to consume and it’s everywhere.
Of course, there is art in how people dress. It’s a joy to sit in a cafe by the window — as I sat on the rue des Petits Champs street in front of the Colbert Gallery — and just watch people pass by. The stylish dresses, the fitted jackets, the silky or scrubbed materials, the elegant shoes alternating with trendy sneakers. People walk in a dignified manner. Their personal style elevates them to museum statues figurines. Nobody drags themselves through the daily grind over here. At least no one I’ve watched. And I did a lot of people-watching in Paris.
Art and beauty are everywhere, not just at the Louvre or the Grand Palais. Galleries opened in old ground-floor flats, spilling out on the backside courtyards. At the Vivienne Gallery, under the covered passageway filled with upscale boutiques, a group of 20 students sit down filling up an entire corner. Each is holding a large square canvas, drawing complex angles of the oldest bookshop, in front of them. They have set up shop right in front of the entrance of a designer boutique, and my first thought is, wouldn’t the shop owner mind the students blocking potential customers? But in order to have art everywhere, there need to be artists to make that art — and I bet every single Parisian knows that, shop owners included. And artists are not just born, they are made. Created through practice on the very streets and passageways of the city.
Even some boats on the Seine have galleries in their bowels! Sitting for a drink with a friend on a glass boat, I realize the bottom floor is filled with contemporary paintings. After finishing our apéro, we walk downstairs to… see some more art.
You can’t escape art in Paris. It becomes part of your conscience, it permeates your moves, your aesthetic choices, your conversations, your past time. And that’s what makes Paris unforgettable. It touches a part of us that perhaps we don’t feed enough in our daily consummerist race. It fulfills our need for aesthetics, it feeds our craving for something bigger than ourselves, something universal we all can connect to. After all, art is there to inspire us to live to our fullest potential. And Paris does the same for us.
Speaking French and getting tourist-trapped
I love speaking French, the more elegant cousin of Spanish. Somehow my voice modulates differently than when I speak Spanish, which is as quick as mercury. But in French one has time. I have the time to pronounce well all those sounds and roll my r’s properly. Speaking French makes me carry myself differently. I love to order food in French, to speak to waiters and shop assistants. I love to have those impromptu interactions on the streets of Paris where I excuse myself or let someone pass in front of me. I become one of their own, if only for a few minutes.
Stepping into libraries, browsing French books and reading magazines — all that makes me feel closer to the daily Parisian society. It’s a way to get permeated with the culture; a more authentic way than crowding in hyper-popular places like in front of the Sacré-Cœur church or under the Eiffel Tower.
These monuments are impressive, but they are suffocated by mass tourism. I cannot see them anymore, or perhaps only superficially. I start behaving like the crowd; everyone takes 1,250 photos, so I start taking too many photos as well. Walking down from the Montmartre hilltop, I feel like I’ve been in a washing machine on the turbo mode. Spun around and walking with the wave of the crowd, getting out of yet another photo some group is taking, I am not myself. I cease to see, to think, to ponder. I get out of there dizzy, overstimulated, but I can’t really say I have seen the church or even the park surrounding it. What I can say I’ve seen is a mass of people perfecting their selfie skills.
Watching life in Paris go by
In all the places we sat down for a coffee, drink and even for a meal, my friend and I invariably sat down next to each other, both facing the street. Facing the Parisian world, watching it go by. It’s quite baffling if you’re not used to it. Because understandably, you don’t face one another, you don’t make as much eye contact while speaking. You talk out into the air, assuming your friend will hear you well enough, because the aim is both to talk and to observe. After all, you do do an essential — and quintessential — Parisian thing: you watch the people and the world go by.
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And that is how Paris entered my heart.
Through my eyes watching people, through my smell buds trying out perfumes in exclusive shops, perfumes with French names only the Parisians know of; through listening to French being spoken exquisitely; through observing young student artists practicing their craft, which in turn, inspired me to become the best version of myself too.
This is not an adieu, this is an à la prochaine, Paris!
Paris is just so romantic. It sounds cliché, but it's true. It looks like a movie set, even in the grungy parts. Love the sentiment of "Paris belongs to its people. People in Paris live in, on and around all the cultural and architectural wonders." Yes, yes, yes!
Now I want to sit in Paris and watch people walk by too, croissant in hand. It’s an easy 4 or so hour train ride away from here and yet I’ve only seen 2 train stations on my way to / from London 😅