Arrivée à Paris — Fourth (First) Impressions
It’s hard to believe time flies so fast, but just over 4 months ago now, I arrived in Paris only a few days after moving out of New York City. When I packed my bags I had little idea what to expect — I didn’t really have anything booked for my trip beyond the end of July, and I didn’t even have many definitive plans for my time once I arrived in Europe. All I knew was that I needed a break — a breath of literal and proverbial fresh air.
My guide was none other than my own intuition, and that was part of the challenge of my creative recovery — to deeply reconnect with myself physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually — and learn how to trust myself again.
I chose Paris as my first destination because I felt it was the perfect backdrop to commence my creative journey. Apart from the rich artistic and cultural heartbeat of the city with many an artist coming before me to pave their own way in the City of Light, it’s also the city in Europe I am most familiar with and comfortable in.
My first encounter with Paris was in 2014 when I came up just for the day from Marseille with an exchange student-turned family friend and her mother with whom I was staying for several weeks in the south. I barely remember this visit as it was so quick, but I have distinct memories of going to the Jardin des Tuileries, Galleries Lafayette and Place du Trocadéro for a view of the Eiffel Tower.
I then returned for a longer séjour of three months in 2017 on a study abroad program that was the most defining time of my life thus far at that moment. As an Honors French double major, while I had been studying the language for several years at a fairly high level, it was this experience when I really became comfortable speaking it aloud with others, and I loved being able to express myself in another language and immerse myself in another culture.
My next trip was the following January during my university’s winter session. I selected the timeframe when I knew Paris Fashion Week was going on, and I strategically corresponded with the PR representatives of several high fashion designers to finagle a few invitations to their shows. I guess this was my first time dealing in public relations, haha ! I did wind up attending Antonio Grimaldi’s show at Hôtel Le Meurice, and Guo Pei’s show at Palais de Tokyo. What an experience !! I’ll have to share more about that some other time ◡̈
Anyway, with several independent trips already under my belt, it felt natural that I return to Paris now as a fully-fledged adult and be able to experience it afresh.
Upon my arrival I learned that one of my close family friends actually happened to be in town just then with her husband (synchronicity!) so I was able to meet up with them several times this first week, which helped me feel more settled and purposeful.
On my way to get lunch together, I found myself back at my old stomping grounds: the métro stop for the meeting place was St. Placide, the same one that I used to take to get to school in 2017. Walking out and looking up at the buildings and shops on Rue de Rennes was almost an out-of-body experience, and so many memories came fluttering back.
I deliberately walked past l’Institut Catholique de Paris where I had taken classes for several months; it was much the same as ever, with students milling around looking appropriately disinterested and aloof while smoking and chatting in between classes. I was personally glad I had graduated to a more mature level of young adulthood, and continued on my way through the Jardin du Luxembourg (one of my favorite places in Paris).
We had lunch at a quintessential café called Le Nemrod (I had my first croque monsieur sandwich of the trip, and it did not disappoint!) and then we went to pay a visit at Tibermont Antiquités et Bijoux, an antique gallery on Boulevard Saint Germain owned by a friend of the family friend I was with. The paintings, sculpture, pottery and jewelry were exquisite, and obviously valuable, meaningful, rare finds. It was inspiring to already be introduced and exposed to the cultural wealth this city has to offer.
Looking back now, my first day in Paris was just as it should have been: a mix of the familiar and the fresh. It’s pleasantly surprising and comforting to know that some things stay more or less the same in life, and that they are always there.
Paris, like New York, is a place where everything is happening all at once, all the time. It never stops. It’s what helps keep its own spirit alive, I think, and also part of its allure — there’s a sense that even if you’re just sitting down having an espresso and people watching, you are a part of something bigger than yourself.
Even as an observer, you become part of the observed. You fade into the backdrop of a scene on the street while overhearing someone else’s conversation, without noticing that you are being watched by someone behind you.
And yet, there is an uncanny freedom to it all: you learn to exist in public without caring what other people think. You learn to rest where you’re able — the streets can be wearisome, with so much to see and do each day, so a seat in a park is a coveted object.
You learn to slow down and let the magic of Paris do its job; simply meandering and allowing the city to unfold before you is part of the Parisian process. Often I went out with only a starting point as my destination and let myself be led by some invisible force guiding me towards secrets and surprises.
It can be easy to be melancholy and emotional in Paris, though. Except when the sun is shining, Parisian skies have a flair for the dramatic, with large picturesque clouds over the Seine or else a blanket of grey which descends on the city, bringing to mind Charles Baudelaire’s poem Spleen.
“Quand le ciel bas et lourd pèse comme un couvercle
Sur l’esprit gémissant en proie aux longs ennuis,
Et que de l’horizon embrassant tout le cercle
II nous verse un jour noir plus triste que les nuits.
When the low, heavy sky weighs like a lid
On the groaning spirit, victim of long ennui,
And from the all-encircling horizon
Spreads over us a day gloomier than the night. ”
And yet, the sun rises again over the Haussmannian rooftops, the smell of freshly baked bread and warm croissants emanates from the neighborhood bakeries, the children play in the parks, the sirens continue their monotonous song, the old and the young take their places at the cafés, and all is well in Paris.
My week continued with a visit to the impressive Musée d’Orsay, and culminated in an epic celebration of the summer solstice. To be continued .. !