Peaches En Regalia: A kind of redemption, retroactively, for the City of Lights

I initially felt that Paris was a component of the trip that was lacking, as I didn't really meet anyone there and I don't know French and everywhere I went seemed to be closed. As I look back over these pictures I am reminded of the simple, if possibly superficial fact that Paris is simply a gorgeous city. I did not take any pictures inside the Metro, which is typically barbarous and a much more physical Metro experience than I had in Madrid or Barcelona. I actually fell down twice in the Metro, once inside the car when it veered in a "Crazy Ivan" submarine maneuver at a stop, and the car was so crowded that I was hustling to get to the door. Since I don't even know how to say "excuse me" in French, I had to use my imposing 5'9" frame to make my intention to exit known. When the train went berserk I felt I had to non-verbally apologize before exiting. It resembled a Harpo Marx moment.

It is amazing to see how so little time can change your perspective. Being there it wasn't as easy to see what I was experiencing or thinking, possibly because I was in yet another city, figuring out yet another transit system, and doing it all completely alone. I don't begrudge that fact at all and it was basically a wonderful experience, even seeing a guy spit in someone's face in the Metro or the general French on French peremptory exchanges that are so common there. It is a cliché that Parisians are rude or arrogant, or used to be, and that it is no longer the case that they are, but seriously, if you had to deal with tourists all of the time and lived in a city so large and chaotic it would make sense to develop an attitude. Aside from that they happen to live in a beautiful and sophisticated city so of course it will come with some arrogance.

I will leave you with one positive anecdote that belies the typical rude Parisian descriptor. I was in Belleville one night, near where I was staying, and I decided to wander the streets and look for a place to eat that wasn't Asian. I went to the park, I think it is just called Belleville Park, or Le Parc de Belleville or something, and sat watching a few people who were there reading with their dogs. (Dogs and dog excrement are everywhere in Paris). Like in a movie, there was automatically a view of the Eiffel Tower, although it was a ways away. Waiting for my hunger to appear, as it always does, I walked down to the main street for some time, passing many places that would have been acceptable. A lot of the area is Asian or Arab, and you can tell that many of the places do not often have Caucasian customers, a sense you can get in many cities in the world. The previous day I went to a Vietnamese place and bought a massive banh mi sandwich for 2 Euros, and the only other people there were the family working, as the place was smaller than my bedroom. There was a TV on with an Asian children's program designed to induce seizures, which had clear packing tape over the screen. There was an empty fish tank above the door, completely devoid of life with water that looked vaguely green, like a chlorophyll farm, if they exist. When I paid I noticed that they had to get a coffee can out from under the shelf since I paid with a 5 Euro note.

So, getting back to the evening at hand. As I was in a residential neighborhood in Paris, and it was about 9 PM, a lot of the restaurants weren't as lively as I was used to at that hour in Madrid (Paris seems to shut down a lot earlier, but so does everywhere). I found a cafe terrace that advertised decent wines for a good price along with a terrine salad, which was just the simplest but most delicious salad I had in Europe (ok, easy competition as there are basically no salads in Spain). It included Romaine lettuce and tarragon, olive oil and red wine vinegar which included trace amounts of champagne vinegar, crushed black pepper, and grape tomatoes. Ok, very easy and simple, but then it was topped by a toasted baguette with a tomato, garlic, and oregano based spread, similar to what the Catalans seemed to do with every piece of bread. There was more to it which I can't remember, but the simplicity (and the use of fresh tarragon) made it delicious.

Maybe it was the environment too, even as the other table was maybe 5 constantly smoking people including a guy who was clearly having an affair with a younger woman. He was an older British guy whose demeanor included the swagger that only the British have, where his tone of voice (loud, and in English with an aristocratic London accent) conveyed a clear sense of superiority. A flower seller seized upon the patio as they always do when you are in mixed company, and the guy wanted to buy a flower for his sweetheart. Problem was, he didn't have enough change so he just told the guy in English that it isn't like you have a set price anyway after he gave him whatever change he had. The other women at the table were smoking, and not eating, and drinking a rosé glass of something...A jacketed neighbor in jeans with nice loafers approached on foot, sat down, and also started smoking. It was an ensemble it was hard to make sense of, perhaps friends of the British guy's girlfriend, although none of them spoke English and didn't include him even as he made bold pronouncements in English to the waiter about the number of spoons for dessert and whatever else.

Where I am going with all of this is to say that it was a pleasant meal in which I could barely communicate, but was overall memorable. After I gave my compliments about how superb it was, even as this was a simple, one course affair and kind of like the simplest possible tier of French cuisine on their scale, the waiter humbly thanked me, smiled, and proudly said, "Welcome to Paris."

So I will defend Paris on that one account. Here is my advice: Don't be like the British guy and nasally announce everything in English. Don't dress like you're going to go weed the garden or have a pick up game of basketball planned later that day. Have respect for the language and make attempts- not to be obsequious or afraid of the famous French meanness coming out, but to show that you revere their way of life and are there to experience it on their terms. You would want the same if someone came to your home, and that is how they probably see it when you're in their city.

I guess it's the same truth for being a tourist anywhere: Don't be an obnoxious loudmouth idiot.

So with that kernel of wisdom I will give you the pictures I took in Paris: