Paris rubbed me the wrong way at first. The gilded sculptures, the endless museums, the grand scale of everything billowed into a headache of visual overwhelm. The downtown monuments all seemed to be tributes to the ego of French leaders.
Perhaps this initial overwhelm had more to do with our abrupt change from rural Greece to the crush of urban life – crowds day and night, cab rides that cost $40 to travel two kilometres, a language I didn’t understand. Perhaps I was also was experiencing some grief in leaving Greece, a country I came to love.
The more time we spent in Paris, the better it became. It was really amazing to see Lily’s love for the city. She planned most of our time there and said it was all she hoped for. “They wear all black just like I do!” I wonder when she will be back.
It’s also evident how much Parisians love their city. It’s like the whole of downtown is dressed up for a night out. The architecture is gloriously consistent (save the Montparnasse Tower which seems flown in from Detroit), the metro is easily navigable, the food is sheer delight. You hear American accents on the streets but they all left their baggy jeans and sweatshirts back home. And the city doesn’t just remember egotistical French leaders: Rosa Parks has her own subway stop too. The move towards a car-free downtown will only heighten the delight. Paris is the first big city I’ve visited where people actually use their balconies.
I knew times were changing when I even liked the perfume-making workshop we did together at Fragonard on the last day. I’ve never smelled better in my life.
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