Paris Is Still Paris

For a while, a certain feeling had been lingering about.

The feeling that you get after finishing a great book or a long TV series, already nostalgic for more and knowing that the world that charmed you has evaporated for good. Wishing you were one of the less troubled, recurring side characters, appearing briefly in large sunglasses after a lazy beach day or sipping champagne at an art gallery’s party, looking like you belonged there.

Paris was on my mind. The city, for me, felt a bit like that favourite series. A place that I used to visit all the time, where I even worked for brief moment in my life, it now seemed so intangible like none of it ever happened. My last visit was astonishingly long ago, since the years seem to be going faster and faster.

I remembered My Paris in a certain way, and could even place myself there in my mind. But the details were blurred and I wondered if reality would be something totally different. A few weeks ago, I finally booked a long overdue Paris trip, last minute.

The day arrived and suddenly I was there, just like a magic trick. It was only a flight away, after all. The very first thing I did was to go see the Luxembourg Park. I don’t know why, but it was calling me.

The park was still there. Kids were still floating boats in the water. Someone took a photo of the cute stand renting toy boats and I couldn’t bring myself to do the same immediately after, though I was tempted.

The last time I was at the Luxembourg Park, no one was taking photos for social media. My photo memories are blurred snaps, poorly aimed, but there’s one of my friend and me sitting down at a green table for coffee, paused in eternal youth. The kids floating boats last time must now be on the brink of adulthood.

Time has passed but Paris is still Paris.

This time at the park, instead of coffee with a friend, I made a video call to my kids. “The Eiffel tower’s in the background!” I said. “What, where? That little needle?” said hubby, unimpressed. My kids reminded me to bring them back Eiffel tower keyrings decorated with diamonds. Someone at daycare had one and they wanted exactly the same.

Paris was the perfect place for some me time, since I already knew the city. It turns out, I still enjoy solo travel. The hours flew by, I walked 22000 steps each day, everyone I met was very friendly, and everything I ate was very delicious. Croissants were still fresh and some of the larger shops still occupied the same spaces on rue de Rivoli. But the crowds of tourists had grown and visiting a museum spontaneously was no longer feasible.

Who would I be if I had stayed there? Would I be sipping champagne or dressing my twins in neat French clothing? Would I resort to botox like an old friend I met up with, looking as chic as ever? Paris is dreamy, but it always reminds me of the other side of life. There are so many homeless people if you choose to seem them and I always think how easy it would be to slip into oblivion like that. Lose a job, have no network or social services, and life could quickly become very grim.

Paris isn’t an Instagram dream, it’s just a city with its ups and downs. A city that ages well, no botox needed. Next time, I might take my kids, if it seems peaceful.