Paris People

People, Places, and Things

I have been remiss in not posting anything, any “results” or stories from Paris. Lots of reasons for this, I suppose. I came back to a friendly virus that wiped me out for most of a week, then had company, and despite the fact that I don’t really have a job, I do have work things, a lot of them lately, to do in my remaining time at WCC. I know, excuses, excuses, excuses… I suppose that continuing uncertainty and in some instances even certainty has slowed the process. I have said this before about blogging and while some have cheered for this and others have scolded me for this, blogging is so self-indulgent. Perhaps as I simplify my life I feel this more intensely. Or, perhaps it is because I have been seeing and reading Russian writers, and their focus on the simple belief that nothing really matters because either you die or you are insignificant in the scheme of things. I am fighting that sentiment—I am, of course, Mr. Sunshine, (Dr. Sunshine?) and my glass is half-full!!! And besides, while the commentary that I will share is less than important, some do, I hope, want to at least see the pictures.

I know, that was self-indulgent in its entirety—I will move on and in three pieces, one for people one for places, and one for things, and try and give a snapshot of my experiences. For what it is worth, or really, what they are worth, I am making the photos as big as possible on this site. If you are interested in or want to purchase larger prints, let me know—I think these will print any size up to 30X40 or so.

People

Parisians get a bad rap as rude “American-haters.” I did not personally talk to every Parisian, but I rarely if ever felt this from the people I interacted with during my week in Paris. I think that there were several reasons for this. First was my atrocious French that I trotted out at any occasion. Honestly, it’s bad! Twice, people actually laughed and begged, “English, English, please speak English.” At one Thai restaurant, I stumbled through ordering Thai food in French, and must have ordered some unseemly combo. The waitress, who was at least tri-lingual, said, “no, no, no,” and went and got me the menu in English asked me to try again! I wonder what I ordered the first time? But I tried, and it was, as every guidebook said, appreciated. As was greeting people that you might interact with “Bonjour” etc. But they were wonderful, from the street sweeper who asked about my cameras to the absolutely adorable young woman who curtsied when I said “bonjour” to her after I bought my croissant. OK, bought my croissants from her.

The second reason is that as much as Parisians might not like to admit it, they do need Americans. I would say that historically that was the case, but let’s not bring up old history like WWI, WWII. etc. (Is saying “old history” redundant?) Americans flock to Paris with their money and their over sized, well, their over sized every things, fill the little cafes and shops. Paris depends on this. And the number of visitors is down and that is very easy to see. Never once, no matter the time of day or place, did I have to wait to eat or drink. Not at 1PM next to Notre Dame, or at 8PM in the Latin Quarter. (though I didn’t eat where the Obamas ate. I didn’t spend even close to that to eat all week). So I suspect that Parisians and Paris itself was a bit more willing to put on the happy face and listen to horrific French from people who take up more space than they should.

The last reason is that while I visited a few of the Kodak Moment touristy spots, I did not take the busman’s tour of Paris. Many who visit stay in the single digit arrondissments, but I ranged further afield, and actually was in either 15 or 16 of the districts, most of them away from the city center. In these areas, I think I encountered more of a “are you lost” curiosity than any rudeness. And, I might say, the food was better, and cheaper, and served with more flair than in the touristy hot spots.

Perhaps my most interesting observation came from seeing more of the city, either intentionally, or, more likely, because I was hopelessly lost. The face of or any expectation of what a Frenchwoman/man/person is or would be was far different than you might expect, especially further from the formal city. I have spent months in London, and recognize that major city as extremely multicultural. Former colonists and people from the Commonwealth have, some say, taken over London. I think that might be a bit extreme, but certainly you are more likely to see Black family (or a SE Asian, or or or…) in London than Seattle, or about 50 times more often than say Columbus. Many of the neighborhoods that I visited in Paris were just like some of the neighborhoods in London, and they were incredibly diverse. Though England was known as the colonial power of note, it is important to remember that France had a huge empire, and much of it was in Africa and the Middle East. Believe me, in most areas I was in, it was far more like to see people in traditional African garb than in Channel or Dior.

This might be related to the cultural changes and diversity, but I was struck by how conservatively the French, of any color or stripe, dress. It’s not like I wear mesh sleeveless t-shirts with gold chains, but I realized that I dressed positively flamboyantly. You know, by wearing say, a blue shirt and one day, gasp, a red shirt. You simply don’t see that. Black and dark gray are the colors for all. Women dressed even more noticeably conservatively. Honestly, I see more skin, though I am never really looking, on students on cloudy rainy days on campus than I saw on a 75-degree sunny day in Paris. My friend Steve kept me apprised on the state of undress/clothing styles in Prague (again, I never noticed) and it is a world of difference between the two capitals. I find that an interesting thing, as France has such a different reputation than this. Even on the fashionable streets, you never saw any amount of skin, no bellies, little cleavage, and no tattoos. Even where I stayed, near two colleges (though one was a church school…) I never saw what we see on any college campus. Well, except perhaps in Utah.

Generally, I found the people interesting and kind, and open as much as my miserable French allowed. I found some great pictures of people that moved me, at least enough to take their pictures. I am not sure that I took a definitive portrait of what a “French-type” person be like. Very likely I was not inclusive enough in my viewfinder. Still, I hope that you enjoy these snapshots of Parisian people/life.