PARIS, FRANCE – The streets in Paris are quiet in the mornings. The bakers are not out and about yet, and folks have spacious seating on the rails. Down the side streets one goes, far from even the shadows of the Eiffel Tower.
Click on the map of Paris to follow Mae’s journey through The City of Light:
The gardens and parks of Paris are especially comforting. They envelope one in green. There are no demands, except to walk through a slice of peace in this renowned city. In Jardin des Plantes, there is a maze. Everyone, joggers and hitchhikers alike, are headed towards the top of the maze, where there is a structure shaped like a bird’s cage. From there, the sun is coming up at seven-thirty on a late August morning. The sun is blinding in its golden glory. It bounces off irrespectively of the metal enclosure.
When the morning hour strikes, adults, dressed prim and proper, walk hand in hand with their children to school. They head like fish in a river in like motion. Laughter and smiles stream past. There is a light-hearted feeling in the air, like the sense that all can be accomplished in a day. And if nothing will be advanced, at least it will not have been for naught, to have felt the sense of camaraderie in this very moment.
The scent of fresh bread and gooey-filled pastries overwhelm the surrounding air with a languorous approach. The fortunate can experience these molecules actually surrendering into one’s mouths. Somewhere, a fork occurs, and what is left simmers onto the streets. Even the sewers of Hugo fame cannot overtake this smell.
What are the museums like in the nighttime when no one is around save for the lone watchman and the many digital eyes? Does it really matter– for when we are not experiencing art, does it exist? It ought only exist for someone’s appreciation. There is much to appreciate in Paris. In the Louvre. The Orsay. The Opera Garnier. The Sacre-Coeur.
But also in the Jardin that the Curies strolled through. In the coffee chocolates that are served before the croissants arrive. In the light coming from the cafe at quarter to eleven. In the music students walking to the restaurants after classes. In the lopsided streets and hard-to-read street signs. In the ever-changing landscape that is Paris.
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