You wore blue; the Germans wore grey

Fractal Chaos

Yes, my wife and I will always have Paris. How we got there and why during these COVID times is a long story involving friends upping stakes to live in Abruzzo, the Cunard line, a therapy dog, baggage allowances, and navigating the goat rodeo that is CDG in Paris. That however is a story for another time and a quantity of libations.

Like everyone who has gone to Paris I had preconceptions of what I would experience. These arose from French classes taken in the distant past when dinosaurs still roamed (or deGaulle at least), Simenon novels (both print and dramatized), movies, paintings of Edouard Cortès and all the other things adheres to you as live. I was very conscious of "Paris Syndrome" that the Japanese even have a name for: pari shokogun. You can look it up in the hive mind. Yet, for some reason it didn't hit me, even with the layers of cultural accretions that had built up over six decades. Paris affected me like no other major city I have traveled to.

I'm not sure why. Perhaps it was the complete dearth of tourists due to travel restrictions — there was no line up at the Louvre for heaven's sakes! Or perhaps it was due to our location, a top notch AirBnB that had a view of the Eiffel Tower. Perhaps it was because I was aware of pari shokogun and determined to avoid it. Most likely though it was because I was there with my wife on our first vacation without obligations since before children.

Looking through my handy-dandy notebook (of course you scribble in a notebook whilst in the cafe having cafe au lait and pain chocolate!) I noted several times how I felt one should approach Paris. One entry reads:

"To embrace Paris is to be embraced by the city itself. There is a degree of fractal chaos present, not only in its layout but in the rhythm of the city [and you have to accept that]. Sure the RER C is not operational [from Notre Dame to Pont Alma, meaning we have to drag our luggage from Notre Dame to our flat] [and it] doesn't show that on the RATP app. [To cope] a Gallic shrug and one moves on. [although at first it really knackered us and we had to stop for fortification]..."

Rosé and Beer

"...Absent the horses the Paris of Cortès is still there but like a French woman of a certain age and breeding it is now discreetly masked only to be revealed to someone who will listen to her stories, flirt with her and pay her the respect she is due..."

Cafe Society

Yes, she is enigmatic and even eccentric but during the course of seven days I have become fond of her. She has a panache that dour Copenhagen will never have. She has a human scale that is absent from New York. She [still] has a passion for life that has all but disappeared (if it ever truly existed) from London. Coming from the pimple on the prairie the old WWI song: "How are You Going to Keep Them Down on the Farm after They've Seen Gay Paree" kept rumbling through my mind.

We did no real touristy things, other than wander about the base of the Eiffel Tower (but did not go up) wandered through Jardin des Tuileries, looked at the Louvre but didn't go in. Instead we wandered. We bought a Navigo card and with three buses (the 42, 69 and 82) stopping across from our apartment we could motor about quickly. If a place looked interesting we'd jump off and explore. No side street was out of bounds. Best of all those three buses gave a good tour of Paris away from the places a Hop-on-hop-off bus tends to frequent. If that didn't work, the Metro at École Militaire was just a few blocks away

A street we found

If it rained, we ducked into a cafe and had a little something. We were never disappointed.

Paris in the rain

Rain will not interfere with our café

There's always a show in Paris. In a way it's less contrived than the show in New York. In New York it feels like people are climbing over each other to stand out; in Paris, not so much.

We had wandered and ended up on Avenue Victor Hugo and then surfaced at the round about that strikes terror into every tourist driver's heart: the traffic circle at Place Charles deGaulle and L'Arc de Triomphe de l'Étoile. My wife and I decided to sit and watch the traffic swirl. Oddly enough, there was no mayhem, there was no blaring of horns as mopeds, bicycles, large trucks, buses and cars of all sizes wove around each other. As we were sitting there, a Rolls-Royce drop-head coupe pulled up. The chauffeur stepped out and took the top down to reveal newlyweds. The groom grinning from ear to ear, the bride more interested in her phone.

Grinning for now...

Elsewhere we saw Yorkies in SmartCars, models doing portfolio shoots and people reading. And read they do in Paris. Bookstores without the tat that you find at Chapters, people "discussing" books in bookstores and cafes. Even the act of having a cigarette becomes an act of style. I'm not sure that anyone actually smokes — the cigarette seems to be more of a fashion accessory.

Quick! He's getting away!

Work with me! Yeah Baby!

A quiet afternoon read

It's a fashion accessory! Really it is!

Discarded things had their own stories; not always obvious but there if you had an inventive streak:

Mattress

Sofa

The children of Paris had stories all their own. In Jardin du Palais Royal, in the forecourt, some boys playing soccer with all the joy and vitality that children can bring to a game. I have to be honest though, sometimes it resembled "Calvinball". And, unlike in Canada, no aged commisionaire hobbling out to say: "Hey, you can do that 'ere, eh! Now get oot!"

Calvinball à la Parisienne

In a city of 2+ million, the children are free range, unlike here in the pimple on the prairie. Children are either helicopter with parents continually braying at their charges not to do what children naturally do or, worse, not even letting them oot and boot at all — even with parents near to hand. Perhaps it was the arrondissements we were in but children weren't tear-aways, knew how to dine out and would explore the street, park or whatever always returning, always keeping the parent in sight without being nattered at.

We know where we are Mom

Climbing Boy

Whilst wandering through Jardin des Tuileries and stopping at the Bassin Octogonal Dawn befriended two boys and asked them if they wanted to join her and sail some boats that a vendor had. They ran over to their father who shrugged: "Why not?" Much fun, much laughter and much running around the fountain.

Two Boys

Prepare to cast off

We did do one touristy thing. We went to Épernay and toured the champagne caves of Moët & Chandon. After lunch in the vineyard of the Mercier house we toddled down Avenue de Champagne sampling the wares as we went. The smaller houses Champagne de Venoge still pick the grapes from their own vineyards and make champagne very traditionally in oaken casks while the big houses are so industrialized that it seems they live on brand recognition than any sort of artisanal skill. I preferred de Venoge to Moët or Pol Roger as there was an honesty and a connection to the land as opposed to big marketing efforts.

Pre-Champagne

Champagne-in-Waiting

Yes, Paris made an impact on me. Even if this COVID stuff ends and I have to fight hordes of tourists my wife and I have agreed that we will try to go as often in a year as we can. Paris is seductive. She can charm and also annoy yet you can't help but love her.

I'll leave you with two videos: Gershwin's "An American in Paris" and Joni Mitchell's "A Free Man in Paris"

"...I was a free man in Paris

I felt unfettered and alive

There was nobody calling me up for favors

You know I'd go back there tomorrow

But for the work I've taken on..."

Joni Mitchell

Full galleries are here and here.