The streets of Paris
are dusty and stained. They are well worn by being walked on by millions of feet over
centuries. Streets that lead people to where they are going, or away from
somewhere they don’t want to be. Streets that connect buildings and people in a
big city that is known throughout the world.
We had been out to dinner
at Au Bon Coin. The “meny-as-in-chalkboard-propped-on-the-chair”
was in French, and French being a language foreign to me, I had no idea what
was on offer. After trying to figure out what the different dishes were I chose
one which turned out to be a veal stew. Flavourful but not necessarily something
I would have chosen, yet (I think) it had an authentic taste of France. Coming
back to the hotel and the tiny room with an interesting bathroom solution, we
turned on the TV. It was surreal to see flames engulfing the Notre-Dame with headlines stating just
that. Surreal to be in Paris on the very evening when such a national monument
was severely damaged.
“My voice might break,
this is a sad day for us.” This was the opening line of our guide to the
free/tip-based tour of Montmartre on
the Tuesday. Seeing his reaction to the tragedy of the Notre-Dame brought it home that for the Parisians this was a deeper
loss than just a church. For them it represented part of their identity. For
two hours we were guided through cobbled streets, and given a thorough
introduction into history and present day France on so many levels. Our guide
gave his reflections and opinions on the revolution past and the uprising in
the present, stating that one of the talents of the French is to not remain
silent in the face of injustice. The tour ended at Sacré-Coer, the church built on the very site where the working
class were slaughtered as a symbol of domination; a church Victor Hugo chose
never to set his foot in. Yet a church which today no longer causes bitterness
in the hearts of those living in the city.
Three days in Paris go
quickly. We had numerous coffees at quaint cafes, ate croissants and baguettes,
having learnt that the baguette “tradition”
is the authentic type which has a set of requirements to be called a true
baguette. Churros were sold at one
square, and macaroons at a little bakery along the way. A tiny Brazilian
restaurant gave a familiar flavour of “home” with picanha, beans and farofa,
with pão de queijo to start, and pudim as dessert- delicious. Paris is a
city of food.
Paris is a city of
beauty. The church Sainte-Chapelle
had stunning glasswindows, and the area around Norte-Dame was crazy with so many people and police... a different
type of crowds to what had been before, when stepping inside the beautiful
church was the purpose. We visited museums like Museé d’Orsay and Museé de l’Orangerie,
walked to the base of the Eiffel
tower, and admired it from different view points in the city. We enjoyed breaks
in the heavy metal chairs in Jardin des
Tuileries and Jardin du Luxembourg,
and taking a stroll up Champ-Elysées
brought us to the Arc de Triomphe. Walking
along the Seine let us appreciate the
less busy atmosphere, and we were pleasantly surprised by the many areas created
for picnics and children playing. We ended up taking a very commercial boat ride
(I think they call them cruises) along the Seine
with pre-recorded guiding in multiple languages, and were surrounded by
hundreds of tourists taking selfies and pictures of probably every building we
passed. I took a few pictures as well, but I am pretty sure I was far from the
one who took the most.
Versailles. On our final day we hopped on a train for half an hour which brought
us to the palace of Versailles.
Having found out that visiting the garden was free, we were quite content to
skip standing in line for a few hours to see the inside, and followed the signs
to the gardens. They were beautiful, even without many flowers in bloom. And
they went on forever. It being a gorgeous sunny day (23 degrees Celcius) we
enjoyed just sitting on the river bank reading, enjoying the view of the swans
and people renting rowing boats.
After a final coffee
at a little pavement cafe, we got back to our hotel on the final evening with a
sense of having seen so much in just a few days. I am thankful for our guide on
the first day who gave us a little insight into the reality and daily struggle
of the French, and yet at the same time encouraged us to not miss out on the
beauty that is around us. And I think we managed to take in a lot of beauty,
and yet at the same time there are so many questions... what is life like for
the homeless people begging on the streets? And with the history of artists and
prostitution in the Montmartre
area, what is the situation of prostitution today in Paris... in France...? Questions I didn’t feel like I could ask our guide, but questions I might make
a point of asking next time... because I hope there will be a next time in
Paris. A next time to explore more of the city. A next time to connect deeper
with what the heart of the city is. And a next time to keep my eyes open to see the beauty the dusty streets lead to.