Lingering Impressions of Paris

JEN'S:  Tantalized seeing signs to “Paris” for weeks, we got as close as 70 kms as we whizzed around north-west on our way to Villers-Bretonneux.

Then THE day comes but we’ve been up since 0400 (actually, most of the preceding night) and drive in wearily with heavy hearts and heavy thoughts, as we reflect on unspeakable times in a special place.

All of a sudden,we’re next to the Seine but on the outskirts of the city and it seems awfully like Brisbane, very ordinary, oddly familiar & comfortable - neat but tired blocks of 70s apartments and offices along a large express way beside a wide brown river crossed by numerous unremarkable bridges. 

We perform the rituals of settling into a massive city campsite.

The next day aboard the 15 minute shuttle bus to ‘town’, it’s as if we travel through an incrementally expanding landscape and end up, plop, at the top of the GORGANTUAN Place de  Charles de Gaulle, with it’s jewelled centre piece, the magnificent Arc de Triomphe! Wow! And then the Eiffel Tower, then the ornate heritage listed golden & seductively curved bridges and all on such a grand scale. The sidewalks are wider than the roads and laced with highly intricate ,endlessly pleasing lamp posts telling stories in pictures and shapes where one can simply stop, draw breath and circle ,throughly entertained.The wonderful old stone ladies of the street elegantly wear their hats of fat domes and delicate spires  - not one remotely alike another. They watch over every corner,street,alley and garden framing & layering every view in  every direction. Intricately painted with kilograms of gold in zig-zags & swirls, they show off,glitter and dazzle as if brand new in the passing pockets of warming sun.

Everything is magically grand, utterly beautiful, so old and commanding yet  welcoming and available to all. They seems to generously belong to the world not just to Parisians.

So many, too many to be named on even busily detailed maps. Rain, crowds and expense don’t  and can’t , dull their charisma.

Then there are the French. Remarkably slim, energetic, elegant, kind, helpful and proud. Many buildings are decorated with golden tassled flags - just the right amount so as to not overwhelm the pleasing ‘tricolor’.Apartment windows dressed with impossible taste and proportion as if the street below sat an audience of art critics. Their movements deftly & quietly manage the vast crowds as they zip about unruffled on scooters & bikes, coming back from the plentiful local street markets, handlebars wearing like dangly earrings, baskets of warm bread sticks and fresh bundles of herbs & pate.

 Coffee cups are tiny, tiny diesel electric cars clutter the streets, food portions are tiny,bums and waists are tiny but their lips are full etched and shaped by a melodious,smooth language whose enunciation requires a gentle pucker &  smile - just the right amount (to us,even a gaggle of riotous youths ‘giving it to each other’ sound melodious and chocolatey).

The reverse side of the shared euro coins sport the most attractive designs, the feminine Marianne, the tree of life, growth & continuity and the sower with the 1 & 2 euro motto “ freedom,equality and brotherhood”.

Flowers are piled into pots, planter boxes and serpiginous public garden beds in rainbow colours; vast open green spaces punctuate every suburb; rows of blossomed shrubs and larger, more uniform lush trees outline, arch over and soften streets, carparks & motorways; paths are curved ,cobbled and paved often with mosaic reliefs ; signs, lamp posts and public benches are embellished holding verses of poetry ........because that is how it is done in Paris.

But all the luxury and beauty is off-set by just the right amount of old,tattered,edgy and quaint. Glitzy prostitutes bead the paths to brothel tents in family community parks; rambling rickety old residential riverboats with badly worn paint jobs tie up along the banks of the Seine ( where does their waste go?), young folk in overalls and gum boots climb from sewer hole portals that lead to underground city party caves; no-one bats an eyelid to an all too close relationship with the vision and smell of ablutions; the metro whisks one through a maize of tunnels, catching sound bites of buskers’ melodies as the doors snap open & closed, popping one up in different worlds - black African with cobbled streets lined by wig & hair-extension shops, market districts populated by engaging Greek/Italian traders,and muslim communities where woman& children gather in gardens to talk and learn from their elders.Old women do battle with age and vanity wearing too much makeup, in clothes too risqué, on frames too skinny; men of all ages lubricated with wine,cheese,bread & cigars and dressed depending on age with berets or off-centred caps , make a grand joyful commotion playing petanque no matter the traffic or weather.And to Wil’s delight, every corner is capped with fragrant creperies & boulangeries, their windows full to bursting with spreads so artistic and bountiful that water-brash assaults even a recently satiated palate.

We’ll be back.

JEFF'S: a BIG city, a VERY BIG city!  What more can be said after Jen’s sterling account?  

It’s RICH.  Rich in just about everything - great green spaces, incredible architecture everywhere we went (there are lots of ordinary parts elsewhere to be sure), the mind boggles at the $/m2 cost of these buildings, reeking of an era of a rich upper class and a mega poor lower class worker to fashion all these amazing constructions - the pointy end of which is the chateau or palace on every corner.  And the planning - appreciated best from the top of the Eiffel tower or from the Arc De Triumph looking down the Champs (or reverse) - it says so much about pride and attention to detail.

Racially diverse - the mignons from the ex-colonies black, yellow and brindle mix under the French language seemingly seemlessly, although the dark ones seem to fill most of the menial occupations, while they over-represent on the sporting field.

Language - 20 years ago when I visited as a student it was hard to find an English speaker, now they’re everywhere.  And they are so helpful, not as they seemed in the past.  We were approached on multiple occasions by Parisians offering assistance, despite our non-Parisian trailer trash garb!

Efficient - the Metro operates to transport the masses so well - cheap, quick, sometimes crammed, mostly clean - it affords travel for so many who might otherwise have not journeyed due to cost or distance. 

Wet - we had >5/7 wet days there, the drains gush, the Seine torrents, but life goes on, the cyclists and runners are always out because for all you know the sun will be soon too, the negroid salesmen have a bucket of umbrellas in 1 hand, a bucket of bottled water in the other (and a bunch of Eiffel towers around their necks), switching products from minute to minute as the weather changes.

Perverse - a museum for everything, even one for erotica.  And a Monday afternoon cycle with Wil through the marvellous Bois de Bologne, a huge green area with lakes and creeks and bike and walk paths and waterfall, full of families and lovers, reveals a corner where scantily clad ladies sit about in the open bushland, flanked by seedy looking men, while other well dressed men park on the side of the busy commuter road and saunter into the woods......so dad decides to exit stage right.  

Cosmopolitan - there must be a million visitors in Paris at any time, the campsite has a mass of wide ranging number plates - heaps of I’s, several Poles, CZ, NL, GB (not many), D’s.....the Champs teems with languages.

Overall a marvellous melting pot of humanity, depicting mostly the best, and some of the worst.  This has been my 4th and by far most comprehensive visit, but there is so much more to see - so will be back with my Jen to take more in.

WIL:

Lingering Impressions of Paris

Pedalling along the path, through the Bois de Boulogne, lush forest on either side, the serene lake up ahead and the noisy hum of city life banned from our thoughts. The radio controlled yachts peacefully skimming the surface of the water. Birds call out to each other and children laugh with delight. A mother duck and her chicks waddle across the road, a few of the chicks cannot hop up the curb. A man comes to help them, lifting them up one by one.

Alluring and queer paintings and sculptures line the walls and fill the floors of the Louvre. They catch one’s eye, inspiring fascinating thought. Where was it painted/sculpted? Why? What is it of? Much of this is known, but more deeper thought isn’t. What is its purpose? Is there a deeper layer of meaning?

Roaring winds assault your body, tugging at your hair, pulling you in one way or another, at the top of the Eiffel Tower. A spectacular panoramic view of Paris stretches out as far as the eye can see. The Arc de Triomph towers over it all, the majestic monument erected by Napoleon in commemoration of his own military potency, with the busy but beautiful Champs Elysèes leading up to it.

Intriguing and beautiful façades of buildings rise confidently from the ground. The huge buildings are very beautiful, probably costing a fortune, worth every euro. They should be World Heritage listed, all of them, but in Paris this is normal. If even one of these was in Brisbane, it would attract thousands, stand out like a swan among chickens and would be the best building in Brisbane.

Sweet, sour, mild and exotic smells pour from the open door of the bakery, making one’s mouth water. You can’t help but take a look, and automatically, as though they had a mind of their own, your feet carry you in that direction. The warm orange glow and beautifully presented pastries, macaroons, baguettes and bagels are to much for you. ‘Take only what you need, take only what you need’ you must repeat to yourself. Five minutes later, you walk out of the shop holding a bulging bag in which there is two baguettes, three macaroons, a jam and berry pastry, a savoury crepe, a bagel (or two) and a slice of cheesecake. You walk with your friend to the nearest park and sit down to eat. Delicious, decadent and exotic flavours explode in your mouth. When you are done, you sit and listen to the  birds, the children and the happy hum of the city.