For my degree (TSM French) I have to spend 2 months in France. I’ve taken this summer to live in Paris, and I love it.
I arrived late May and stayed with a French friend. Through determination I found a lovely place to stay and a solid job making deliveries throughout the city for the clothing company Zadig & Voltaire. That’s when I began to take in this magnificent place.
The first thing that struck me is that there’s actually too much beauty here to even try to put into words. Famous poets have tried and failed; therefore I won’t even attempt it.
But this does give rise to the logic that the only way to fully take in Paris is by living here. Every turn you take reveals something wonderful and very much under appreciated; be it a twenty-foot high golden statue devoted to a president of which you’ve never heard of, or just a casual apartment block with so much intricacy in the design of the stonework around its windows, that you wonder why it’s not a national landmark.
I live in the 5th arrondissement near the Panthéon, which is one of the most amazing buildings I have ever beheld, yet when I give people directions to my apartment, saying “just around the corner from the Panthéon” they recognise the location as if I was referring to the local butchers. They literally have too many beautiful things here to grasp.
Even on my casual to cycle to work I pass Notre Dame, the Louvre, and finish by the Opera. If any of these three structures existed in Ireland, tourism would triple.
But it’s not all beautiful buildings and galleries, one of the most poignant things to note in this city is the poverty. The amount of homeless people one sees during the average day is astounding. It’s not like at home where you pass a few crusties walking down O’Connell street at 4am. Here the throngs of impoverished street dwellers have nothing. Nothing. I saw a woman sitting by the Seine grinning ear to ear as she’d apparently just found someone’s old socks. And she’s not alone.
Everywhere you go here someone is sleeping on the street. Shop doorways are the most common habitats for the homeless, followed closely by sitting above heating vents and under a broken umbrella. One day I was even walking through the Marais – a relatively well-to-do part of town – when a man with a questionable odour approached me and asked for the end of the baguette I was carrying. I obliged and the saddest part was how much he thanked me. He clearly had nothing else in his life.
It can be genuinely upsetting to walk the Champs-Elysées and see a woman lift her Gucci and Luis Vitton shopping bags over the man slumped against a shop window with a cup in his hand. The contrast here is as stark as anywhere I’ve ever seen.
But this doesn’t mean it’s an unhappy place – far from it. I’ve found that Paris has this eternally up beat nature to it. The people here revel in doing nothing on their days off, and at the slightest hint of sun they flock to the city’s numerous gardens or to the banks of the Seine. Even the homeless people will chat with you with the almost-Irish-outlook of “Well, it could be worse.” There is a go-to mindset here of putting on a smile and seeing what the day brings.
Before I came here I had heard of the clichéd rude Parisians, but I can tell you nothing is further from the truth. It’s clear that this false stereotype has come from the American tourists (who are ABUNDANT in July) arriving and shouting in English at the locals.
“WHERE….IS….THE…EIFFEL….TOWER?!” they cry. Now there’s a stereotype that’s true.
Of course people are going to be rude to you if you arrive in their country and speak at them like that. A group even came up to me on Rue de Rivoli, speaking in the same loud and delayed manner, and when I replied they immediately told me my English was very good for a Frenchman. I did nothing but thank them and move on, as my gut reaction was to murder them on the spot.
I urge everyone to come here and see this magnificent city. It’s beautiful, and its lively streets offer everything I’ve ever wanted.
Come sit in Jardin Luxembourg by the lake as the toy ships glide across its flat waters which glisten in the sun.
Come drink coffee in front of the Eiffel Tower and smell the fresh bread on the air as someone plays an accordion not so far away.
Come sit on the grass at Montmarte and buy an ice cold Heineken from the vendors walking by.
Come soak in this unique and heavenly atmosphere that has enriched my life just by being here.
But please, I beg you all, please try to learn some French before you arrive so your interactions with the locals can be somewhat on their terms.
