“If you can build a city which seems more beautiful each time night falls, dawn rises or rains return, you’ve granted humanity deeper worth.” – Old Sean
Back on the Continent
France is among the most expensive and beautiful countries in Western Europe. It’s home to vast rolling fields of nearly-criminal green (though often cut with patches golden-brown in the current heat), and gorgeously expansive skies.
When leaving the countryside, cities are rendered stunning in all manners of rain. There’s a prominent culture rooted in love of art and food difficult to match anywhere else on this blue unpiloted rock.
It’s good to be back on the Continent.
An Apology to French
Despite my appreciation of the setting, I never really locked down any of the French language beyond Bonjour, Merci and Pardon.
This is largely because, out of all the languages I’ve attempted, I absolutely butcher French whenever I try to speak it.
The slight hum and rolls softly welding the cadence of words together is completely beyond me. My attempts sound jarring as a jackhammer aimed at propane tanks.
On some level, it’s always a bit comical and endearing to have foreigners attempt to muddle through a new language. Russians in particular seem to enjoy my grandiose attempts. But the French typically don’t. In fact, I’ve been pointedly advised to skip the attempt entirely.
So a thousand and one apologies to the French language. I would try, but I believe most hearing-capable folks would thank me if I didn’t.
A Tunnel Visiting Paris
Generally, the easiest way to enter France means visiting Paris.
Despite being far inland, the capital, with its excessive history, culture, architectural beauty, relevance and vitality makes it the gateway to the rest of the country.
Unfortunately, that makes much of Paris fairly crowded. The bumbling armadas and untrained legions of tourists attending the city for the last few centuries have eroded the average citizen’s tolerance for touristic blundering. But the Parisians I met were cordial enough, though a tad distant.
I was largely left alone as I took all of my meals at tiny, far flung cafes throughout the city. For my own entertainment, I re-watched Midnight in Paris and calmly browsed a small pile of literature. While sipping coffee and sitting parks, I made a point of noting some of Hemmingway’s iconic written landmarks.
A few years go, a friend of mine replicated Hemmingway’s Moveable Feast by eating throughout the city. If I had more time, that sounds like a grand way to visit the City of Light.
Staying In Paris
Initially, I stayed in St. Christopher’s Inn Paris Gare du Nord, perched on a canal in the northern portion of the city.
Hundreds of locals lounge along the water edges in the evening, generous bottles of wine precariously placed along concrete edges. The small gatherings are decorated with cards, chatter and snacks.
Joggers are forever demonstrating fitness and the occasional passing bike almost always has a delightfully cliché breadbasket. Thin columns of white clouds puff up everywhere, as the Parisians smoke like mobile chimneys.
Elsewhere, finely wrought graffiti is expertly applied to nearly every stone bridge. There’s also an area where someone has painstakingly sharpied every cobblestone brick with patterns. The drawings extend for thirty meters in faded ink is any indicator.
Water grates are wrenched open in the early mornings to rinse away litter and leaves from night’s festivities. Great trees with rough bark-flakes tower over the city of balconies. The totality of this setting all comes together for a singular, entirely French experience.
In short, France draws its magic from a wonderful, distinct combination of the grand and quaint, the classy grit and a consensus of deeply enjoyable dichotomy.
A Stroll in Paris
The key to experiencing Paris is to walk, so I gradually stripped away the next few layers of rubber from the bottom of my boots as I wandered somewhat aimlessly through the city.
I paid my respects climbing the Eiffel Tower (though the area underneath is currently walled off or some manner of security construction). Before any crowds woke up, I watched the morning crews dutifully plunder last night’s party favors, bagging garbage to restore the Champ de Mars back to splendor.
Later, I overlooked the Seine River throughout the day. During quiet moments, I sipped at coffee and ate a dozen diverse pastries in parks such as Tuileries Garden, Le Jardin du Luxembourg, Esplanade des Invalides, Square Louise Michel, Jardin des Plantes and the Jardin d’Acclimatation.
On a separate morning, I beat the tourist horde to Louvre and made a bold, uphill jaunt to Sacre-Coeur Basilica. Here, scuffed, elderly artists offered to paint my face under shaded park awnings.
Around Square Nadar, I passed dynamic mosaics and trinket artworks, which appeared on winding street corners.
Returning to the Seine River brought me past A la Mere de Famille Candy Shop, where the samples alongside purchases made this my happiest, least-healthy breakfast of the month.
I next wandered to the famed artist squat 59 Rivoli, still hosting some truly extraordinary creatives. I browsed their work by staggering up five levels of a painted spiral staircase.
Afterward I lounged, relieved, in cooling mist clouds in front of Les de Halles. I also hunted for the humorous golden Defender of Time Statue, locked in an oddly symbolic conflict with a dragon, enormous crab and rooster.
Then it was a simple jaunt to Notre Dame, sneaking shade from the expansive umbrellas of a Chinese tourist group while waiting in line.
Visiting Paris in Scorch and Ice
For the majority of my walk, the heat was unbearable. France is locked in a now-familiar heat wave that stunted any long-range recon. Muggy, sweltering weather persisted until a heavy patch of clouds rolled overhead, splintering the heat and opening a deluge.
France (and Paris in particular) is stunning in the rain. The soft reflections found in a thin coating of water white the City of Light shines are unmatched.
Rain is the ultimate canvas for the urban spaces in the evening.
Sadly, this is less true for violent hail.
After safely sequestering myself in my hostel, a sudden slamming drumroll of hail pelted the city. Leaves and twigs splintered off trees and pedestrians went scurrying for cover.
I didn’t envy the leaf-cleanup-crew the following morning. Another tug of sympathy goes out to the tenacious members of the Tour de France, who entered the city the same hour I departed. They were undoubtedly hindered by the smack of skyward summer ice.
South and Farther South
My remaining time visiting Paris was spent splitting my time between naps and snacks, exploring the city at night for one final evening.
The following day, my time in Paris was done. I was due to begin working my way South to Spain, stopping at a couple of smaller cities on my way to Pamplona and Madrid.
I found a cheap bus and, now with the smooth motions of long experience, I packed my things.
Until the next city or town,
Best regards and excellent trails,
Old Sean
Written July 28th, 2018
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I picked up my yoga mat three years ago during a trip to Mexico. The Jade Travel Yoga Mat is light enough to roll up and attach it to the outside of my bag. It now doubles as my workout mat and a sleeping mat when I need to rest somewhere odd.
