Initial Impressions of Paris

For the past week I have been walking and biking around Paris. This has caused a kind of sensory overload—not only from the landmarks, but also the people, the stores, the streets, the sidewalks, the parks and green spaces. I have struggled to find concepts that encapsulate these different and multitudinous sensations. Two have recently come to mind: prestige and seduction. Both, in their own ways, capture the “feel” of Paris, especially its public spaces.

The spirit of republicanism (understood theoretically, not politically) includes the relatively superior value ascribed to public domains, or those that are accessible to all regardless of socioeconomic class or other distinctions. Concretely, this means large amounts of government investment in public spaces; it also implies a well-functioning public administration staffed by talented individuals who are able to effectively carry out the will and aspiration of visionary leaders and the people they represent. Paris displays this spirit everywhere, particularly the monuments and buildings that are administered by the state. Not only are the monuments outstanding artistic creations in their own right; they also provide a sense of national grandeur and achievement. An emblematic example is the monument to Napoleon. His statue sits atop an obelisk-like structure which is perhaps 50 metres tall, enshrouded with spiraling engravings that depict, in minute and detailed chronological order, his major conquests. At the base or eye-level section of the structure, there are more engravings as well as Napoleon’s name, written in Latin, with the title “Emperor-Augustus” (the highest office in the Roman empire). Around the monument there are exquisite buildings built in the neoclassical style, but between the monument and the buildings there is a large amount of space for pedestrians (and a much smaller space for cars). History buffs can stand there for hours and interpret each engraving, from the bottom to the top, until one reaches the apex with the statue of Napoleon. This general structure—a centre with a statue which sits atop a historiographical base or tower, surrounded by wide pedestrian spaces and neoclassical buildings—characterizes other monuments around the city, although of course each is sufficiently distinct to be the basis of a separate analysis. 

Biking in Paris is the best

My biggest treat so far in Paris has been biking around the city with a public bicycle which can be rented for only 8 euros per week. Among other things, this has allowed me to bike around many neighborhoods and analyze the streets—the way they are organized, the extent to which the roads are in tension or in harmony with sidewalks and bike paths, and whether these aspects of efficiency interact well with the aesthetic dimensions— buildings, stores, cafes, and greenery—of the thoroughfares. Paris scores extremely high on all these measures, which makes biking or walking in the city an immense joy. I’ve lost count on how many times, while turning a corner or passing an intersection, I have encountered a street that is unforgettable because of how its elements of beauty combine with the movement of the people, whether they are biking, walking, or driving. On the Boulevards in particular, shops bestride large sidewalks lined with numerous trees embroidered with dense and thick green leaves; this greenery adds vivacious colour while creating a kind of canopy around the sidewalk which provides cool shade for pedestrians. Between the road and the sidewalk, there are bike paths full of cyclists. A striking impression is that the transit lines, bike paths, sidewalks and roads seem to be organically mixed together. Cyclists often seamlessly glide onto the road or sidewalk, while pedestrians stroll onto the bike paths in order to catch the tram or cross the street. I did not detect an iota of evidence of antipathy between pedestrians, cyclists, and drivers. All share the spaces while being sensitive and attentive to the others (although bike paths and sidewalks are much more organically integrated with each other than either are with the roads).

A la glorie de Dieu (Sainte Chapelle)

One cannot speak about the prestige and beauty of public spaces in Paris without mentioning the churches. So far, I have visited Sainte Chappelle, Notre Dame and Sacre Coeur (the last two are open to the public free of charge). When seeing them for the first time, I was struck by the exquisite detail paid to their aesthetic features. My imagination ran wild when remembering the effort required to build such structures. An immense allocation of resources, plus the finest creative talent, was committed to an arduous endeavour, the purpose of which was not lucre; rather, the creators of these structures were motivated by their religious faith. These churches are reminders that humans are not mere beasts, that they have the capacity to aspire towards something larger and greater than themselves, and one of the ways they do this is by creating beautiful pieces of architecture, sculpture, and religious iconography. Visiting Notre Dame was an especially powerful experience for me because one of my favourite writers is Victor Hugo, who authored one of the most beautiful novels ever written, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Most of the story takes place in the eponymous church, and while looking at its exterior and walking inside, I could not help recalling Hugo’s interpretation of the Church and fusing it with my own impressions. 

Elegance

 The elegance and style of Parisians, especially the women, is unlike anything I have ever seen (although women in Milan, Rome and Naples come close). Even women who are less physically endowed because of age or particular physical features often appear to be beautiful by virtue of how they present themselves—how they dress, their gait (walking and posture), and the moderate amounts of make-up they wear. Their outfits—tops, gowns, or shorts—display a playfulness and harmony of colour, are not too tight, not too loose, and hence only slightly allude to their bodily features, as if their intention is tickle and stimulate the observers’ imagination. The presence of these beautiful women really adds lustre to Paris’s public spaces, and I am probably not the first observer to be seduced by this aspect of the city.

One of my purposes in coming to Paris was to improve my French. I have done this by continuing my daily 30 minute lessons (on my computer with language learning software) but also by spending time and communicating with friends in the city. I have also improved my knowledge and “feel” of the language simply by going out and about—buying and reading local newspapers, paying attention to road signs, advertisements in stores, and information plaques on monuments, listening to strangers speak to each other (sounds creepy, but oh well), or simply approaching Parisians to ask for information, such as directions to some important location. Doing all these things has given me a greater appreciation of the beauty of the French language. Like Italian, the phonetics and cadence of French are extremely pleasing to the ear. And like other Latin tongues, French displays a rhythmic quality that makes the language sound artistic or poetic. The masculine and feminine forms make it harder to learn, but they also add a richness and nuance that seems to be absent in Germanic languages like English.