Paris state of mind

Its been almost 2 weeks since I have been to Paris. But the city still seems to haunt me. My work in the recent past has taken me to quite a few places. But no place has had an impact on me like this city did. I guess its due to the fact that I had read so much about it even before I set foot in it. I like reading fiction especially the books that deal with espionage set at an international scale that take you on a journey around the world while you are still seated comfortably in your armchair. At one time I had this phase of cold-war spy thrillers which somehow or the other used to have Paris as a part of the main plot or at least a sub-plot. For instance, the hero catching a train at Gare du Nord or Gare du Lyon, Or a car chase through the Arondissements of the central city, or spies exchanging information while having cafe au lait (or espresso) at one of the famous roadside cafes, etc. One of the most vivid scenes I remember is the car chase shot from the movie "Ronin". And the other one is the houseboat on Seine which is the residence of Duncan MacLeod (portrayed by Adrian Paul) from the TV series "The Highlander". It was like having a myriad of thoughts about this city in Europe where so much action takes place even before I set foot in it. Perhaps, it could be simply due to the fact that I visited the city as a plain tourist rather than with business as the prime motive. And the city didn't disappoint me at all.

Right from the moment I entered it via the ghastly building that serves as its more famous airport Charles De Gaulle (Orly being the other one), it lived upto its reputation of being one of the most romantic places on earth (if you are a traveler, that is. I really cannot comment on the life in the city as a Parisienne considering the short time I got to stay there). Travel writers and novelists claim about cities and places having characters of their own. I could never quite figure out what this "character" meant. Until I saw this city, of course. For me a city is just a large colony of people living in some buildings out of which some buildings are monuments just due to the fact that they were constructed in the previous century. Paris changed my perspective. Now I understand what a city with character means. It means that a city (or for that matter a place) can have character. Not clear? Then I will leave it there. I will never be able to explain it.


A walk on the north and south banks of the Seine over the weekend was like reliving all those novels which I had read since the time I started reading books without pictures. For a moment all those places which were only names in the books just started to materialize as signposts of streetnames in front of me. Pont Alexandre III, Place Vendome, the Latin Quarter, Montmarte, Quai d'Orsay, Notre Dame.... I had to pinch myself to believe that this was for real. And of course the other proof was the imposing sight of the Eiffel Tower which stood tall enough to remind me that I was in the land of the Gauls. Amazing! Those French pronunciations, those bridges spanning the Seine, the roadside booksellers hawking paintings of the Mona Lisa and the Notre Dame, the famous Hotel De ville with its more famous skating rink in the front, the Louvre museum with the glass pyramid entrance, the street side cafes where you can just pop down for a cafe in case you're tired of all that walking. Paris is also known for its famous gourmet Restaurants such as George V on the avenue Champs Elysees. Whew! Its too much of a city to cover in a weekend.

And the Museums! I suppose Paris has more artwork and museums than the whole of Europe put together. I finally got to see "Starry Night" by Vincent Van Gogh in Musee d'Orsay. Manets and Monets hung right next to each other. Standing so close to these masterpieces! By the look on the face of the museum guard who was sitting there with a bored expression while we tourists were happily clicking away at the painting with our digital cameras, I strongly suspected that these were clever fakes and the real paintings were safely lying in a vault someplace else.

Perhaps I shouldn't blame the guard. After all, this was Paris.Even the most exotic thing you could think of is at an arm's reach as an everyday object. I could see a Rolls parked unattended near Arc de Triomphe. Or a fleet of black S-Class Mercs (with chauffeurs whose black suits would have only come from an exotic boutique) parked like Fiat Cinquecentos on the Champs Elysees. An experience worth savouring like a good French wine.

Even as I boarded the return flight home, I was in a Paris state of mind.