But I thought that was what I just said?
- The Author, Paris
Now I am unable to load up any of my shots at the moment (only a temporary matter, I have scoured through the little alleys and windows of Paris enough to get some images that I'll be happy to put on my Best Shots For 2009), thought I'll share a few pages from my beaten-up black notepad that got toted into my backpack...
In any long distance jet-lag provoking flight that would give nothing more than plastic food served on plastic trays, air stewardesses with hair-sprayed towering wigs, and a non-event landing due to a miraculous surprise of just not hitting into any air pockets (obviously I have not recovered from the Manado flight), you'll be hard-pressed to find a better reason to finally touch the ground.
But again, don't believe when they tell you that this is the worst airport in the world. We made it through without a hitch. I find typing this blog entry on a European-catered keyboard more trying than getting through immigration not speaking fluent French.
Ok, which paragraph now?
And so I find myself sitting by the dining table belonging to mon ami, Dani - a chic, butterfly-ladened table clothed massive reason for a working top since we ate more by her tiny kitchen table, that reminisced a delicious chocolate wrapper staccatoed by colourful wild pansies and sparrows - it is blissfully distracting trying to feel professional typing on this darn keyboard while listening to a fusion mix of Baroque and modern jazz from the streets below. Once a while, the many dogs roaming the Parisian streets in their expensive collars as their masters exchanged greeting kisses, let off a bark (the canine I mean).
I really want to say that we are very lucky to be staying in a part of Paris and being invited to take care of an apartment that is within a baguette boulangerie away from Notre Dame, but that would be like eating stale bread. It is mind blowing to be entrusted by Dani to share a few days here, to be showed around the little haunts of her preferred butcher, fruit grocerer, metro, and to soak in the non-Lonely Planet way of getting to know Paris. She speaks little English, we speak a smathering of French (all the practised proficiency got stuck somewhere between the teeth and the throat) yet we lavished in the opportunity to get to know her even better since meeting her for the first time at my brother-in-law's wedding last year. This is how most Parisians are - genuinely expressive, friendly, proud of their history and culture. Yes, we met 'rude' waiters but we think they are really overworked (and it's quite hard to stay mad at that accent), we saw a crazy driver parking in such a way that literally knocked off the front bumper of the car behind him (you follow?), and lazy cooks that just won't change an order made 2 seconds ago because 'it is too late' plus the fact that it costs 20 Euros more didn't matter.
You can find things to contrast and complain but we have also find many charming people, even lovelier culture, the easygoing lifestyle, and delicious pastry to boot. We got to Bastille and gawked at where Parisians put their money on eclectic furnishing, blitzed through the human traffic of loaded shopping pilgrims at Champs-Elysees, shed a tear at the tomb of the unnamed soldier residing at Arc de Triomphe, walked across the Seine many times, spent a day at Musee d'Orsay, got all about zen at the Louvre and Luxembourg Gardens, and of course, lay down to share an iPod on the grounds below Tour Eiffel.
I won't pour over the facts as you'll find them aplenty everywhere. Every evening, we sit by the glassed corner of the apartment overlooking at the big square of the Pompidou to bask in the evening sun, share a glass of wine, eavesdrop on the gossip of the day amongst the many tables in the cafe, not make a sense of the many artistic performances in public (they get quite weird at some point) - I could wish I am more French but you don't actually have to in order to fall in love with this place. We attended the Fete de Ascension and celebrated their important Catholic occassion with the locals, it was a first time witnessing a Gregorian service. Again, it was not hard to feel one with the sea of different faces that make up Paris.
Point is, come and see Paris, I'll say. She'll push you far enough for you to actually need to close your eyes to cool off, yet She'll pull you back lustfully like a sensuous lover. You can read all about Her, people may profess their personal opinions on how their free toilet system can be improved, they may convince you Her magical abilities to just make you want to reach out to your partner's hand.
The thing about Paris is that, you'll perhaps find you are on a personal quest to rediscover yourself again, within and without all of Her grand simplicity and private beauty.
I really don't think you can ever come to Paris and leave the same again.
ps: The photograph is uploaded just! (Only could do it once we got back)
