Paris
One should arrive in Paris along the Seine, at a gentle progress and see, like a painted backdrop, the spires and domes along the river.
A plane dumped me from the air, with barely time for a glimpse of the Eiffel tower, onto Parisian ground and into the throngs looking for their luggage.
Notre-Dame did not appear like the stern of a great ship through the mist, but quite anchored by bridges in an immovable mass, solidly nailed into place by its flying buttresses.
I was to see Paris for the first time. Would it live up to its lofty reputation?
I never spent a night at the Palais Royal. Never walked in moonlight along the Seine, but saw a thousand other things.
As I walked along the streets I thought Paris shows so many different faces for us who come, depending where our shadows fall and linger.
Here are a few of the faces Paris showed me.
And I was lucky to share all this with my cousin and two Finnish ”sisters”, who invited me along. Riitta was our guide who actually spoke a bit of French, and guided us through complicated menus and unmarked streets.
Merci, mes amis!
A plane dumped me from the air, with barely time for a glimpse of the Eiffel tower, onto Parisian ground and into the throngs looking for their luggage.
Notre-Dame did not appear like the stern of a great ship through the mist, but quite anchored by bridges in an immovable mass, solidly nailed into place by its flying buttresses.
I was to see Paris for the first time. Would it live up to its lofty reputation?
I never spent a night at the Palais Royal. Never walked in moonlight along the Seine, but saw a thousand other things.
As I walked along the streets I thought Paris shows so many different faces for us who come, depending where our shadows fall and linger.
Here are a few of the faces Paris showed me.
And I was lucky to share all this with my cousin and two Finnish ”sisters”, who invited me along. Riitta was our guide who actually spoke a bit of French, and guided us through complicated menus and unmarked streets.
Merci, mes amis!
Streets and Ponts of Paris
Here Theatre is performed every day. On the cobble stones can be heard the sharp click of high heels, the shuffle of old slippers. Dogs leave turds, people rubbish. Lovers embrace and tourists exclaim. Music floats along the Seine, synchronizing with the beat of traffic. Underground the screech of the Metro deafens every other sound, but a sparrow still tries to chirp in the sun. Humanity is on the move. Fast, slow, or not at all; the shadows hide misery as well as riches.
Take the stage!
Take the stage!