Its weird, I’m weird at least, I don’t really know what I miss until I see it again. I manage to compartmentalize emotions in the moment. The emotions of leaving and departures are feelings I guess I have learned to manage. I’m not a big fan of the long weeping good byes in airports or train stations. I’m usually the anxious one, looking forward to the change and adventure, excited to leave and see something new. The downside is never really realizing or appreciating the nice things you are leaving behind. I left Paris with the same excitement as I’ve had for all change.
But now back on a slow hot Sunday afternoon I have the time to think a little more about the things I loved so much while I was here. So, since I’m extremely bored I thought I would offer to cyberspace my five things I miss about Paris in the summer. These appear in no real order, its kind of just off the top of my head and it its also only been a couple of months since I left so I’m sure these will change over time.
Cherries
I was walking along rue Bretagne the other day and was suddenly blinded by shiny red dots in all the fresh fruit stores. Plump and light red, or dark red, purple red, and brown red, shining, they were all so bright. They looked so good. In England in seems the only fresh fruit readily accessible are beans. I’m not knocking beans here but in the summer there is nothing better than grabbing a handful of cherries, putting your feet up even if they smell a little and sitting back to enjoy fresh cherries. I almost choked on the pits because I like to hold them in my mouth but it did not take away from my enjoyment of the cherries. Fresh cherries are pure red delights of pleasure and joy
Velib
Ok, I’m not the biggest fan of bicycles. I’ve taken great pride in my incredible ability for laziness. I am product of my environment and my earliest environments were of transportation in air conditioned cars into air conditioned shopping malls followed by air conditioned cinemas, restaurants and houses. Anything that required walking more than 30 seconds was considered uncool, too far and extremely tiresome. Fast forward to my arrival in Europe and you can imagine my displeasure. Walk? I didn’t move much the first few years. Now, thought I will admit to enjoying the idea of biking around Paris. Even more so when its free and its summer. Grab a bike, get lost in Paris, and be sure to spit out the cherry pits before you start peddling.
Women
I am a man. I don’t write about this often because it’s a little too obvious. I mean who wants to read about another man drooling, panting and chasing women. I don’t. I do though have to mention my surprise and enjoyment of what the sunshine does to women. They take on a little more color, they stop wearing huge overcoats and they stay out later. The sun seems to make them smile more which in turn makes men smile more which leads to a seemingly happy French population. If you’ve ever been in France during the cold and rainy winters you will understand how important summer smiles are. I thank the women.
Fete de la Musique
Once a year the inner guitar player, the rock star, the dancer or the singer in each French person is given a free pass to utterly ridicule themselves on any and every corner of Paris. It is night that encourages kids to take to the street with the instruments and clang and scream themselves silly. Its also a night where accomplished musicians give free concerts to adoring fans. It’s a night when marching bands decided to march, with no destination in mind, playing music while picking up stragglers in a way only moving music can do. As I moved through the city, on my Velib (see the entry above), I saw two boys break dancing on a street corner for no one but themselves.
The bums
I’ve always thought Paris is the greatest city to be a drunk and a bum. Really think about this one for a second. If you were homeless, with only a bottle as your friend, a sleeping bag as your house and plastic bags for shoes which city in the world would you choose to carry out the rest of your days? Still thinking? Not me baby, I would definitely come live out my drunken, begging, pan handling days in the city beautiful. Some of these people have conquered the best river views, park benches and gardens of the city. What does the city do, they live seamlessly with the homeless. I followed a bum yesterday from the moment he tightened his plastic bag shoes, through the Champ de Mars, to a couple of begging stops, I think he made a couple of euro, to finding a half smoked cigarette to finally scaring some kids off a bench. He rummaged through his pockets found a lighter, lit his smoke, stretched his feet, inhaled and exhaled the same joy I have for this city. It was beautiful, it was enlightening, and it got me thinking about who the real bums are.