By Maggie Jankuloska
“How is anyone ever gonna come up with a book, or a painting, or a symphony, or a sculpture that can compete with a great city?” Owen Wilson’s sentimental idealist, Gil Pender, wonders in Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris.
Paris is Hemingway’s “movable feast;” a colossus of history and culture; a proverbial haven for dreamers and lovers.
Being an eternal Francophile, I spent the first week of my honeymoon in the city I have loved and revered from afar. Before we nestled between St Germain and Montparnasse, I spent weeks practicing and highlighting phrases from my dog-eared French for Dummies guide, worrying that the French would sneer at tourists.
All my faux confidence went out the window once we arrived and scrambled into the madness of Parisian traffic. As someone used to orderly chaos, bewilderment struck me at the cramming, swerving and speeding of cars and motorbikes. The use of the indicators is non-existent and crossing as a pedestrian can become a game of Russian Roulette.
Yet, the traffic was not going to get me down. On my first night in Paris, I braved ordering a table and food in Française, even after walking on a shaft vent in a dress and baring my underwear to Parisians- not once, but twice.
After my initial blunders, I navigated through Paris like a seasoned explorer, on foot and with a map in hand. The beauty of Paris is that it is a walker’s city, it is hard to get lost and there are hidden gems around every corner.
Like Woody Allen’s protagonist, I observed the daily ritual of young and old Parisians buying bread from the many boulangeries, at the start or end of their day. Contrary to stereotyping, Parisians are accommodating and warm, as long as you remember “merci” and “s’il vous plait.”
Yet, Paris is a city of contrasts. It is beautiful and timeless, with its beautiful architecture and history, yet people litter everywhere. As the book title goes, French Women Don’t Get Fat, but women and men smoke profusely, even in hotel rooms.
Parisians are impeccably dresses and groomed, men and women alike. The Parisian look is not one of excess, it is simple elegance, understated and classic. Paris is a fashion giant, but it also is a city rife with beggars and peddlers.
The French celebrate their rich culture and history and Paris is a vast exhibition. It is not short of statues dedicated to noteworthy Frenchmen and women or their allies. There is also not a shortage of museums with the Musee d’Orsay being a favourite. Yet, if waiting in line for hours to see a painting from afar is not your style, another hidden secret (aside from the multitude of bars and cafes) is the lush open spaces. The Luxembourg Gardens were my favourite spot, you can sit below the chestnut trees, watch or partake in toy boat races, read a book, tan, jog or just bask in the Parisian landscape, with the sun not setting until 10 PM in June.
Now, let’s not forget the Eiffel Tower.; seeing her for the first time is pretty surreal, no matter how many times you have seen it on TV or film. It’s a firm reminder that you are in Paris and climbing it is a must. The view of the sprawled city below cannot be beaten and a carousel ride below the tower is a perfect treat, even if you are in your mid 20s like me.
“I like Paris when it sizzles,” goes the old refrain from an Ella Fitzgerald song and in June Paris’ balmy warmth was a treat, especially when compared to the aggressive Australian summer I know. There is a wave of things to see and taste, just make sure you wear comfortable shoes to carry you exploring.
About the author:
Maggie Jankuloska is an Australian writer and teacher. Francophile. Bibliophile and Leonard Cohen aficionado. Follow her on twitter @maggiejank
