From the Eurostar to the hotel, we had just a quick 20
minutes to get ready before John’s former work colleague picked us up. The
sights of Paris were brought to us through the windows of a small standard car,
shifting and clutching its way through traffic. J’s friend works at the Eiffel
tower, so after we had our first Paris lunch consisting of traditional beef
tartare and duck confit, we skipped the lines of the tower and were privileged
to see and learn about the inner workings of the elevator’s hydraulic system.
The view up the Eiffel was fantastic but even more enjoyable was the elevator
ride that rode us past the iron lattice.
Paris was at the top of my must-see European destinations
but I was slightly weary that I would be in love with a fantasy and it would
end up disappointing – a feature of cognitive dissonance. Luckily, the city
with all of its charm and character lived up to my romantic imagination. It was
eroticism to the eyes with arrondissements boasting pictorial gardens,
classical statues and pouring fountains.
We bought a two-day museum pass and sauntered our way
through rooms full of oil paintings, pointillism and mythological statues. We
visited the Louvre, a museum that is breathtaking by every measure. The Latin
Quarter, where our hotel was located, was my favourite. It provided the
experience of Paris in a less ritzy manner but rather, welcomed the likes of
young students, artists and writers. Cafes, such as those in any other part of
Paris, were filled with people and cigarettes in theatre-styled sitting that
faced outwardly towards the streets (perfect for people watching). Wrong turns led us down narrow streets filled with private galleries with art we
imagined hanging on our own walls.
On the last day of our museum pass, we visited Versailles, whose
brevity of riches and superfluous space left us almost wanting to return back
to the city where art is unearthed in the gardens, the boulevards and corners.
Our trip to Versailles felt rescued when an older gentleman from the
(previously visited) gift shop noticed us in the courtyards. He brought
kindness to a whole another level and offered to tour us through private hallways
and delighted in our presence as we sat in awe of a beautiful opera room.
Even while being in Paris, it is hard to stay in the present
when my mind is continuously sprawling to an imaginative life of the past (trying
to picture the unfathomable life of a monarch) to a fantasy life in the future
(inventing myself as an artist, sipping wine out on my Parisian balcony). However,
my present life provides me with just
enough happiness, allowing me to travel and enjoy cities with this ephemeral
attitude.
Pam xx
