Paris Isn’t ‘Cool’…

Meanwhile, the number one topic of conversation in Paris in any language by those who actually live here and by those who don’t but wish they did, is not about money, sex or food. It’s about Paris itself…and how much they love this city above all others. It’s a phenomena one cannot experience anywhere else. The only city that even comes close is New York, but with New York, it’s not the same kind of love affair…it’s more cerebral than romantic.

Last night walking to the Left Bank after the Parler Parlor French-English Conversation Group Tuesday night session on boulevard de Sebastopol (http://www.parlerparlor.com), I crossed the Seine twice — once to the Ile de la Cité and again to the Left Bank. Along the way, I stopped on the first bridge to take in the sights, which is an easy habit to form. From that vantage point, you can feel as if the Seine is a major artery from your heart supplying important blood flow to your entire body. The city, the ‘museum’ it may be, stretches out on both sides to form your body and soul.

Noticeably, many other people do the same thing.

On route, I passed a new acquaintance — a woman named Jane who has been in Paris for five weeks, having attended a few of our events and she, too, was on her way to the Seine to do exactly what I had just done — take in the sights. It was her last night in Paris (leaving for as short a time as she said she could arrange) and was already missing it. Her words were, “I’ve crossed from being a tourist to feeling as if I really live here.” Crossing the Seine became simply symbolic.

Over dinner after that with a journalist friend named Pamela Leavy, who recently had a life-threatening stroke and lives happily to tell her amazing tale of near death to good health, attributed her very existence to the city one might call a “gigantic open-air museum.” Not only was the emergency care “Johnny on the spot,” and not only was the out-of-pocket expense only about 300€ out of a 40,000€ bill for her three-week stay in the hospital in a private room (thanks to the French social security and health care system), and not only was the nursing staff very accommodating being sure to bring her fresh baguettes and croissants with café crème and butter every morning…but all her friends and the organizations within which she has worked, came to her rescue to bring meals and run errands to relieve her stressed husband, Jim, from taking on the entire burden himself.

She was naturally grinning ear to ear and thankful to be living in the city that ‘isn’t cool.’

So, is it really not ‘cool?’ Or is it that we just don’t care?

Adrian Leeds
Editor, Parler Pari