Pat Taub
It didn’t take much persuasion when my youngest son phoned and said, “Mother, you have a birthday on October 1st. You haven’t treated yourself in a while. What about a birthday trip to Paris?“
Jonathan offered to accompany me and be my travel guide. This is the son whose adolescence antics drove me up the wall. Maturity is a blessed occurrence.
After an agonizing bumper-to-bumper taxi ride from the airport, we settled into our Airbnb in the bustling Marais neighborhood. My large bedroom window faced a gothic church whose magnificent stained glass windows lit up at night, welcoming me to Paris.
The church seen from my bedroom, an elegant candy shop, an antique toy store and the Pompidou’s exterior
Our agenda was carefree. We got up, wandered into a boulangerie for café au lait and a croissant before exploring the side streets over the more commercial aspects of major boulevards. We loafed in beautiful city parks, indulged in patisseries, and window-shopped among the tiny specialty stores in Saint Germain, where stores often featured a single product, like antique toys, silk scarves or artisan kitchen knives. We were deliberate in visiting the Louvre and the Pompidou museum. The latter’s modern art collection and views of the Paris skyline blew me away.
Son, Jonathan, a planter in the Luxembourg Gardens and the exterior of an apartment building
Jonathan was masterful in tracking down intimate bistros tucked away in cobblestone alleys. We noted how much smaller the portions were than in the States, wondering if this was a factor in America’s overweight population.
Images of some of the delicious food I ate
While the French may have a healthier diet, they still smoke a lot. We passed a lycee where throngs of students were smoking; mothers pushing toddlers in strollers and even elderly couples smoked.
We spent half a day at the vast Luxembourg Gardens, lounging by a mammoth fountain, and watching older couples play cards and chess. The manicured formal gardens are still a Parisian hallmark, but in many areas they were replaced by wild flowers and free form plantings. I counted only a handful of French citizens reading newspapers like, Le Monde or Le Figaro. French of all ages were glued to their phones, just like in the States.
Images from the Luxembourg Gardens
Because they walk a lot, sneakers are the latest fashion statement for French women. I thought my Nike sneakers would make me look nerdy, but, much to my surprise, I fit right in.
Artful attention to details was everywhere. Produce markets displayed fruit on a bed of moss. Restaurant desserts were almost too beautiful to eat. The ubiquitous French scarves were a reminder of how this beloved fashion accessory provides instant glamor.
Politics were often expressed in drawings on building facades and in small modern Art Galleries showcasing paintings depicting racism or climate change.
Political images supporting LGBTQ rights
In a small public square we chanced upon a middle-aged man delivering an anti-vaccination talk His presentation resembled a reasoned university lecturer, unlike the explosive tone of many anti-VAX or‘s in the US. Even so, French citizens seemed much less uptight about Covid than in the States. Proof of being Covid free in the form of an iPhone app was required at restaurants, which no one seemed to resist.
By midweek, having had our fill of the rain, Jonathan suggested a trip on the high-speed train to Avignon, where full sun and warm temps replaced the damp Paris weather. Amtrak’s inefficiency and poorly maintained passenger cars stand up poorly against the modern French trains. An elderly man sitting across from me on the train smuggled in his little dog. The conductor spotted it, made a small objection and moved on.
The speed train to Avignon and a public square in Avignon
On the plane ride home, I vowed to keep my tourist eyes alive, where I observe with the same intensity I did absorbing Paris. Magical images are not limited to Paris. They’re all around us, if we’re open to the unexpected.
Au revoir, Paris
