Love Letter to Paris

the iconic Tour Eiffel

It has been eleven years since Minas and I were in Paris.

Pont Alexandre III with Grand Palais behind

The wonderful parts have not changed: the architecture, the food, the history, that amazing river, the museums and that undefinable feeling you get as you walk and you walk until there just has to be a stop at yet another sidewalk cafe. 

But, oh Paris........ You have made some big improvements in our absence. 

flowers in Les Jardins de Luxembourg

It used to be that all those adorable French poodles ruled the sidewalks and you didn't dare look around you for fear of stepping in the "crotte de chien" that was ever present. But now, Parisians walk their dogs both large and small, on leashes and clean up after them. Hallelujah! Tourists can now enjoy the scenery. 

Minas has gone so far as to suggest that there must be a new department of public works charged with making sure that Paris stays clean, beautiful and aesthetically pleasing to one and all. We certainly felt safe everywhere we went and we delighted in the views presented to us with each turn we made. 

 Paris has always been the City of  Love. There is something in the air, I think, and it is not expensive perfume or fine French wine, although those ingredients always help the "falling in love process".  We were surprised, when walking near one of the bridges over the Seine to see the ironwork glistening in a strange fashion.




On closer examination, we found that the structure of the bridge was covered with locks of various shapes and sizes, attached permanently and bearing two names. 

At first we thought it might be a tribute to the M. Hollande's new law that allows same sex couples to marry. But there were all kinds of names both female and male in all their variety of permutations and combinations. The whole bridge was an interesting ad hoc art installation and a testimony to the love held by many couples. Minas thought it might be fun to do but locks were five euros at the nearby kiosk and no permanent marker was at hand. So we did not add to the installation, deciding we didn't need the outward show but would focus on more personal manifestations of our feelings for each other.

 And the Seine was high this Spring: very high and fast flowing and extremely muddy. The "bateau mouches" boats couldn't get under the bridges and the lower promenades along the water were inundated with water and impassable. It was no different when we got to Lyon and saw the Saone and the Rhone coursing through the city and flooding the quayside underground parking lots.

Cathy on a bridge in Paris

Now, there were a lot of tourists in Paris with a surprising number of Eastern European tour buses, clogging up the streets; so it was often hard to identify the real French men and women with their inimitable sense of style. In fact, I think we saw far more of them after we left Paris and drove to Lyon. However, I can tell you that orange is this season's colour of choice in all the smart shop windows; that young girls are once again wearing shorts over tights and running shoes with a high wedge heel, and there isn't a woman on the streets of Paris or Lyon, whether tourist or not, who doesn't wear a scarf. So I was glad that one of my birthday gifts was an orange rain jacket and I always sported a scarf.

We had read before we came that the number one tourist attraction in Paris was taking a bicycle tour of the city and we saw quite a few. I prefer to do my biking on quiet roads and not in a group on busy city streets. In Paris, I would rather walk. 

Mind you, the Parisians have a system of city-owned bikes, which the locals use as a transportation system, speeding along the quays and streets as they go about their daily business. They seem to be well used.

My favourite meal in Paris was a lunch I enjoyed at Le Montparnasse 1900, an old brasserie not far from our hotel. We usually had big lunches which broke up the day of feet-breaking walking. I started with French onion soup with a thick cheese topping that ran down the edges of the mini-tureen and formed into a delicious crust. The main course was two small filets of grilled "daurade", a small Mediterranean bass, served with a dill cream and accompanied by roasted fennel. The portion was perfect, the flavours intense but complementary and I wanted nothing more except my small espresso with the chocolate on the saucer.

In France the perfection is in the details

Now, ten days after setting foot on French soil, we have done Paris well enough to last us for another ten years; we have put the bikes together in Lyon and come back from a nostalgic trip down to Saignon, our provencal village home for two winters.

So tomorrow, we get on our bikes and finally begin our adventure. You will be hearing from us.

au revoir for now