8 Septembre
My first moments in Paris are inspirational, relaxing, and even charming. Today was spent walking... walks of reflection, recollection. To experience a city for the first time, especially a city rich with history, always contains a heightened flow of memory.
The RER and metro are a bit of an adventure, although nothing too complicated. I ride the RER from CDG to Gare du Nord, switch to the No 4 metro line to St-Michel, across from Pont Neuf on the Left Bank. Parisians are much like those in the metro Northeast US, expect their faces seem a bit longer and their brows a bit more furrowed. It's Friday afternoon, so maybe that had something to do with it. Actually... it's Thursday, perhaps I'm dreaming.
What anticipation I experience as I walk up the steps at St-Michel! The Parisians are coming down the stairs in droves. I walk slowly. I smile... it's more than I could have imagined. Can you be in love with an idea, a place, an object before really experiencing it?
The first moments are breathtaking, first images like that of a film's opening scene, a pre-arranged scene... people sitting, talking, cafes lining the sterets. Remaining still for quite for a while, my mind aborbs as much as it can. I head south down the b. mich, take a right on b. st-germain, and eventually, make my way up to the Seine.
This walk provides an introduction to the history and architecture of the inner arrondissements. I stroll by the Musee d'Orsay and Asemblee Nationale, and the open space by the Invalides where I view my first scenes of Parisian afternoon grass-siting. The Invalides were impressive.
As I reach the Pl de la Concorde, it reminds me of a tree-lined avenue in Pittsburgh, coming into the city from Carnegie Mellon. Maybe... I'm not sure. It was years ago, but that memory surfaces immediately when I turn my head and gaze across the cityscape.
Tour Eiffel. Perhaps the artists and intelligensia of the 1920s shoudn't be looked down upon for wanting to tear it down. I feel the same. If you've never been in Paris and you're coming from the NW (without seeing all the inner beauty before the expanse to the Tour Eiffel), maybe it's tolerable. But it's a real letdown the other way around. The surrounding grounds add value to the scene.
I notice a few beautiful French girls before arriving at my hotel. Such a unique and adorable look. The straight hair, confident voice, big eyes, and an unforgettable smile. Two young girls ride past in the bicycles while singing together. A scene from a film.
I shower, then tour the 18th (mainly by accident). I walk a bit south than I intended, but it's immensely worthwhile because I end up at the Jardin du Luxemborg. JL is a masterfully designed open space with gardnes, statues, exquisitely manicured grounds, and historic buildings. Some men are playing soccer, a few twosomes play table tennis set up in the park. The young boy is getting taught a lesson by his mother, for sure.
I'm writing this from JL. Parkgoers sit on the cast iron metal chairs, talking, reading. Evening walks abound. Policemen whistle everyone to leave, but no one moves. In fact, a man appears to get a little more comfortable in his chair. The sounds of their whistles drift away in the evening breeze.
The sun, setting a golden orange, appears through a cloud bank near the horizon. The soft light illuminates the entirety of the scene - the trees, fountains, statutes, and promenades.
My first moments in Paris are inspirational, relaxing, and even charming. Today was spent walking... walks of reflection, recollection. To experience a city for the first time, especially a city rich with history, always contains a heightened flow of memory.
The RER and metro are a bit of an adventure, although nothing too complicated. I ride the RER from CDG to Gare du Nord, switch to the No 4 metro line to St-Michel, across from Pont Neuf on the Left Bank. Parisians are much like those in the metro Northeast US, expect their faces seem a bit longer and their brows a bit more furrowed. It's Friday afternoon, so maybe that had something to do with it. Actually... it's Thursday, perhaps I'm dreaming.
What anticipation I experience as I walk up the steps at St-Michel! The Parisians are coming down the stairs in droves. I walk slowly. I smile... it's more than I could have imagined. Can you be in love with an idea, a place, an object before really experiencing it?
The first moments are breathtaking, first images like that of a film's opening scene, a pre-arranged scene... people sitting, talking, cafes lining the sterets. Remaining still for quite for a while, my mind aborbs as much as it can. I head south down the b. mich, take a right on b. st-germain, and eventually, make my way up to the Seine.
This walk provides an introduction to the history and architecture of the inner arrondissements. I stroll by the Musee d'Orsay and Asemblee Nationale, and the open space by the Invalides where I view my first scenes of Parisian afternoon grass-siting. The Invalides were impressive.
As I reach the Pl de la Concorde, it reminds me of a tree-lined avenue in Pittsburgh, coming into the city from Carnegie Mellon. Maybe... I'm not sure. It was years ago, but that memory surfaces immediately when I turn my head and gaze across the cityscape.
Tour Eiffel. Perhaps the artists and intelligensia of the 1920s shoudn't be looked down upon for wanting to tear it down. I feel the same. If you've never been in Paris and you're coming from the NW (without seeing all the inner beauty before the expanse to the Tour Eiffel), maybe it's tolerable. But it's a real letdown the other way around. The surrounding grounds add value to the scene.
I notice a few beautiful French girls before arriving at my hotel. Such a unique and adorable look. The straight hair, confident voice, big eyes, and an unforgettable smile. Two young girls ride past in the bicycles while singing together. A scene from a film.
I shower, then tour the 18th (mainly by accident). I walk a bit south than I intended, but it's immensely worthwhile because I end up at the Jardin du Luxemborg. JL is a masterfully designed open space with gardnes, statues, exquisitely manicured grounds, and historic buildings. Some men are playing soccer, a few twosomes play table tennis set up in the park. The young boy is getting taught a lesson by his mother, for sure.
I'm writing this from JL. Parkgoers sit on the cast iron metal chairs, talking, reading. Evening walks abound. Policemen whistle everyone to leave, but no one moves. In fact, a man appears to get a little more comfortable in his chair. The sounds of their whistles drift away in the evening breeze.
The sun, setting a golden orange, appears through a cloud bank near the horizon. The soft light illuminates the entirety of the scene - the trees, fountains, statutes, and promenades.
Beautiful writing. I'm forwarding this to my friends in publishing.
You're the only one I know that takes such great care and creativity when writing in a journal