Paris

Although I had fantasies of attending English boarding school (the result of reading too many Enid Blyton books as a child), Paris was the first European city I fell in love with, long before I actually traveled to Europe.

I am not sure exactly how I developed my love for Paris, but it was firmly entrenched by the time I was a young teenager - I devoured anything by Hemingway, and read every great and not so great writer's account of their time in Paris in the 1920s.

When I first went to Paris at age 20, I wandered around with A Moveable Feast in my hand, oohing and ahhing whenever I encountered a landmark described in the book. When I wasn't retracing Hemingway's steps, I was falling in love with the Impressionists, and visited every gallery I could.

My first visit was in November, when Paris was cold and grey, and relatively empty of tourists.

My second trip was last week (unbelievably 18 years later - how could I have stayed away so long?), in the middle of August, prime tourist season. Paris was still largely cool, and mostly grey, but overcome by tourists.

This trip I was traveling with my good friends Donna and Chris, and their children Jack and Ella. Our first stop on our first day was the Orangerie Museum, to see Monet's Waterlilies. I was entranced by the Waterlilies the first time I saw them, and was looking forward to seeing them again. But my heart sank in the first room. With so many people crowding in (many of who kept posing for photos in front of the paintings), I was having a hard time seeing why I had been so taken by them.

I was starting to think Paris had lost its charms.

Our next visit to the Orsay didn't do much to change my opinion. Again, crowds and crowds of people shuffled quickly past all the Impressionist paintings I loved.

But even the huge lineup, crowds of people, and the ever present gypsies couldn't diminish the charms of the Eiffel tower. As dusk started to fall, and I gazed out at the tower, Paris seduced me all over again.

Paris worked it's magic on six year old Jack as well. As it got darker, the tower started to light up and Jack couldn't take his eyes off of it.


All five of us were giddy with Paris, taking silly pictures, entranced by the glow of the old iron tower.

And then, the crowd collectively gasped and squealed as the tower started to sparkle.

How can anyone not love Paris?