The Pulse of Paris

I accomplished something on Monday I said I would never, ever do.  I drove in downtown Paris! Awful, hope to never repeat it but we survived. I will admit it has been a long time since I have visited Paris, over 13 years, and I truly did miss the city.  I love this city of light, it's noise, it's hustle and bustle, it's eclectic mix of old and new. My first solo transatlantic flight, my first big trip alone, my city of independence.  It represents to me a beginning. I love the art, the architecture, the Cafés, the food, the language.  It has always left me wanting more.

I love the gardens, the palaces, the museums.  This city has a vibrancy and heartbeat unlike any city I have ever been to, and I have seen a few. Maybe it's the artist in me but I have always been able to breathe just a little easier in Paris.

Not this time. It is April, not peak season, not even close and Paris has become the city of queues. A line to get past security at the Eiffel Tower, another 2.5 hours for an Eiffel Tower ticket, another hour in lines to get up and then back down.  A line so long to get into the Louvre that we wouldn't have made it to the front of the line before this famous landmark would have closed for the evening. Even a line for the washroom at McDonald's on the Champs-Élysées. (Fear not, I did not eat at mickey-d’s while in Paris, my young travelling companion needed to use the loo!) even Notre Dame was a line, a long one. A line for the Rodin Museum?  Unheard of. I am used to lines in summer, not terribly long, but lines for the biggest and most famous attractions, but on my last trip here in 2004 I waited not one second for the Louvre, Notre Dame or it's tower, nor any other site here. I hate queues I don't spend money on vacations to stand in lines.  It's why I have never been willing to go to Disney. I can't begin to imagine the summertime lines.

The war in Syria has not touched us back in North America the way it has here in Europe.  The number of shacks with families huddled around them, built under overpasses along roadways and in every nook and cranny of this great city is heartbreaking. Most street corners have a family, not a man or a woman but an entire family, children, too, begging on them. These families know a poverty and a sense of loss I will never know, and it is hard to ignore them and harder to know you can't really help them all. I am grateful for the life of privilege I lead and I am well aware that even on my most difficult day I am luckier, healthier and happier than these refugees.  My sense of social justice makes it difficult for me to enjoy my privileges knowing my resources could be better spent.

This visit to my favourite big city was a whirlwind, not nearly enough time to even taste its flavour, a mere 44 hours. I will have a hard time convincing Brett to come back.

Cheers,

Rachel