Fran·co·phile
Photo credit: Sophie Anderson
adjectif et nom
1. Qui aime la France et les Français….
or otherwise - someone who likes all things French.
Four weeks in Paris have flown by. I am now in a rhythm. I’m even starting to recognize the same faces along my routes. After several repeat purchases in a local store, the shopkeeper and I now wave when I pass by.
Being from the South (of the United States, to clarify), I’m used to making connections with anyone and everyone. The smile and wave is so engrained into me it’s practically a reflex. Here, I attempt to blend in. I move along the boulevards like the Parisians - with a purpose. Like I have somewhere I am going. Lately I’ve been making eye contact and sometimes engaging. As I cross the street, jump in the metro, or help an elderly woman with her bags, I am finding some camaraderie. Friendly eyes and smiles are showing up more and more.
Long conversations and informal acquaintances have kept me company all along the way. Lucy was delighted to show me her brooches at the market, and Igor sold me a beautiful turn-of-the-century textile. Rebekah helped me fashion a scarf. Justine told me how to trim the flowers. With Isabelle, I listened as she shared her gorgeous art of dying garments. Guy and I spent time locked out of the apartment building when they changed the code. Thankfully, he made the call to get us in. Later, Sylvan from upstairs delivered my new key fob and explained to me that our building dates back to 1590 and is the oldest on our street. He hoped not to unnerve me when he shared that there was a cemetery across the street 200 years ago which is when those buildings were constructed. Liliana offered me coffee when I was admiring her jewels in the Tiffany store. Dorothy gave me her fascinating story as a wig maker for theatre and television.
I came to immerse. To clear my mind. From a creative standpoint, this trip has been a success. There is something about being out of your comfort zone that opens you up to things you might not otherwise see. Watching pigeons has become my daily practice. They have a certain spirit to them that seems to say they’re taking it all in. I bet they have some great stories to share. Perhaps one of them is about an American woman who fed them in an effort to get them to pose for a photo.
This city has a certain “je ne said quoi” vibe. It’s just so alive. Sidewalks are filled, even more so in the last week. People are moving in every direction, in and out of a network of limestone buildings steeped in history. Cherry trees are starting to bloom and the small pop of green leaves is evident on the trees. The gardens are shedding their winter brown. Paris is unceasingly transformative.
