The
City of Light. City of Love. I love Paris
in the Springtime, Under Paris Skies,
An American in Paris, French Kiss, Les Miserables, The Hunchback
of Notre Dame….songs, movies, setting of famous novels and home at various
times in their lives to great writers, artists, actors, Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Henry James,
Balzac, Simone de Beauvoir, Victor Hugo, Colette…. I could go on and on.
We
seem to have a fascination with this city more than any other.
What
is it? It’s ancient, yes. It’s beautiful, yes. The language is romantic, yes.
Its history is fascinating, yes. Its museums are vast and astonishing, full of
treasures. The food is delicious. The cafes, sophisticated and friendly. The
people, also friendly and helpful if you try to speak even a bit of the
language.
But
the truth is, these things could be said of almost any major cosmopolitan city
across the world. Prague, Budapest, Rome, Cairo, Athens, New York, San
Francisco. So what is it? Perhaps the poets and writers gave it cachet by
describing it so often. Perhaps it has that magical, mystical something: It.
I
saw it again recently after almost thirty years. In spite of the hordes of
tourists (don’t ever go in the summer if you can help it), it still bewitches.
My favorite things? Sitting in a café at the end of the day having a simple
meal and a glass of wine. No one rushing you to fill your seat again to meet
their overhead. Musée D’Orsay. The Shakespeare and Company bookstore. The
Eiffel Tower at Night.
Inspiration
comes in many forms. Not the least of which. Paris.
Shakespeare and Company bookstore.
