By Louis Nizer, a British-born, U.S. lawyer and a literary genius…
” A man who works with his hands is a laborer; a man who works with his hands and his brain is a craftsman; but a man who works with his hands and his brain and his heart is an artist.”
Photograph ‘Parisian Night’ by Mark Ashbee
An article in the Sunday Times Travel section this weekend bemoaned the rudeness of Parisians. Having just returned from a long weekend with my husband for my 40th birthday, I have to disagree.
We found them positively charming, in a very french way bien sur, but still charming. We spent a lot of time walking the streets, doing the touristy thing, but generally just soaking up the atmosphere and for a first timer like me, Paris was the epitome of french taste, grace and ease. Pavements are wide enough, tourist attractions are well managed, streets are clean.
One big difference for us was that whenever a tourist attraction queue started looking long enough to put visitors off waiting, they opened another door and shepherded people in the right direction. Even better than that, we happened to be there on the first Sunday of the month, when all museums have free entry. We were warned that this would mean getting there extra early as the queues would be horrendous… we got there at 10, queue… not so bad! In fact they opened a side door and we were ushered in quickly and calmly. All my worries of standing for hours in queues (like at Windsor Legoland… thats another story..) were blown away and for someone who tends to pass out when standing still for too long, that was a pretty good thing!
The epitome of rudeness is usually summed up by the surly, self-possessed and sultry manner of the french waiter. Ok, so there was one, in a cafe in Jardin Tuileries, who just couldn’t seem to comprehend how hungry we were, or that we needed water, having asked twice, but other than him we had cheerful, happy, attentive waiters and waitresses. Topped off by some fabulous food. Do the French do bad food? I’ve not found any yet.
The atmosphere as we walked around Paris was full of life, love and laughter. Tourists seemed contented, Parisiens seem to accept us being there and if anything, there was a distinct lack of aggression in the city. Walking round the streets of London I have often felt insecure, a little scared even, at the youths on the corner, the shifty looking guy in the doorway, the shop assistant with too many piercings. But in Paris I saw none of this, actually I don’t recall seeing any groups of bored, misunderstood youths at all. Were they all busy being happy, attentive, polite waiters?
Paris I LOVE you x
The Garden Path 