My cousin wanted to be in Paris for her 75th birthday, which falls on New Year’s Eve. Only six months apart in age we grew up together in Los Angeles. Part of a very close family, neither one of us remembers a time without the other in it. This trip turned out to be the cherry on top of a lifetime of shared memories. A full week in Paris includes a lot of indelible impressions. While she had been there before as a ten-year old this was my first trip to France.
At 75 a totally new experience is something of a rarity and it did take my breath away. Coming from southern California where most of the buildings were built in my lifetime, the age of the things I saw stunned me. Knowing that most of it was built without electricity is totally mind-boggling. Those yesteryear people must have had technical ability coming out of every pore to assemble those cathedrals, castles and fine homes without powerful machines. Their vision, daring and persistence left me speechless.
Although I saw enough to impress me to my marrow, what I was able to see is less than a hangnail on the figurative hands that make up Paris. With the exception of Versailles, our entire trip was confined to Paris proper. There is so much more to see and marvel over than we were able to experience. Nevertheless, I think I got to feel the spirit of the city and the French people who live there. The Americans and the French look very much alike with a few exceptions, but they feel very different.
We went to a restaurant on an island in the Seine for New Year’s Eve. It was the Americans who were up and dancing around the tables while the French held back. They were dressed in more formal attire and we clearly appalled them…for a while. But, before the night was over they were up and dancing with us. We were more exuberant and they were more reserved, but all of us liked to have a good time.
The children I saw throughout Paris were quieter and better behaved than their American contemporaries. Babies and toddlers were universally strapped firmly into strollers — no papoose-style backpacks. It was cold so they were dressed in snowsuits that made them as stiff as little starfish; the only part they could move was their eyes. Older French children seemed less precocious and younger acting than livelier American kids. Their restaurant manners astounded me. Like their parents, they all seemed to take time at the table quite seriously. They were able to manage their silverware with great aplomb and really seemed to enjoy their food, which was always the same as what their parents were eating.
There are so many apartments, many identical — you never see anyone go in or come out. Shopping for food seems to be on a meal-by-meal basis. I did not see a single supermarket. Food is beautifully displayed and expensive. If you want to live in Paris bring money. Our dollars are 25% less valuable than their Euros. When you look at price tags in Euros it is hard not to think in dollars, but needs must.
Was it beautiful? It was beyond beautiful. It had been very cold before we got there with some rain and snow. We brought warm clothes and we used them as days were from the mid 30s to high 40s. There was little real weather while we were there — a sprinkle of rain, a dusting of snow. We brought sunny skies with us making for long views and easy access everywhere we went.
One day after we got on our Air France flight home a storm named “Goretti” rolled in, shutting down buses, closing schools, cancelling flights and causing blackouts. The Eiffel tower was closed due to ice and they were actually skiing on the grounds around it. Were we lucky or what?
Knowing what I know now I would hesitate to travel to Europe in mid-winter. The Xmas light display and excitement of New Year’s was wonderful, but if we had traveled one week later every activity we had scheduled would have been completely disrupted.
The places we went, food we ate, and sights we saw filled me with wonder. I will write about some of our specific experiences in my next column. Until then let me just say that I would recommend a pilgrimage to the “City of Lights” at least once in a lifetime for anyone who can possibly manage it. If you don’t find a lot to love in Paris it is time to check your pulse. Paris is tres magnifique!
After taking a semester off to work in a related field, a group home with children in Cloverdale in 1969, my college graduation was delayed until the spring of 1971. I had taken French as a requirement in both high school and college, but in the fall of 1970 some of us opted to study in Vienna Austria. I, however, knew very little German. But the plane landed near Paris where we stayed for just a couple of days before boarding the Orient Express train to parts of Germany and then Vienna. What I discovered in Paris was the natives did not wish to speak English until I initiated their language. Then, out of disgust or frustration, they would often speak in perfectly understandable English. Once in Vienna, it was reversed. Many would happily speak to me in English. If not able, we communicated the best we could in my broken German or our common knowledge of some French and English. My wife tells me that her experience in France, before we met, was mixed in the early 70’s. She was an exchange student in high school. Some people of her age did not treat her well but those of her father’s age, who learned from her that he had fought in Europe in WWII and had been a prisoner of war, went out of their way to show her around, taking her around Normandy to places where her father had been.