Parisian women are beautiful. Not all of them, but many. Slightly angular faces, nice hair, good fashion sense and when they talk in French I just about melt. I fall in love at least 7 times every day. Of course, I've living with the most beautiful one of them all so I quickly fall out of love with the others...but I had to write that as she's standing beside me, sharpening a knife...
Parisian transport is like a slippery eel. You think you have it and then something happens and, whoosh, you don't. It looks to me like a cross between Australian (e.g. Sydney) and Asian (e.g. Hanoi), big-city traffic. It moves like a school of fish - dividing markers are guidelines only, with cars often drifting between lanes sans indicator, but there are veyr few accidents as all cars are doing the same thing. The mob mentality of traffic is amazing to watch sometimes...from a safe distance.
The Parisian attitude to non-French speaking people I was expecting has reared its ugly head only a few times - in the supermarche (fair enough, considering the number of people trying to buy essentials and get home) and in Alliance Française (very odd, considering THEY'RE A LANGUAGE SCHOOL!) I'm still coming to terms with the non-service-industry-like service industry but I really haven't had any major problems with being unable to express myself adequately in French.
I'm becoming a snob...okay, more of one...since moving here. Case in point: On our first day in Madrid B took me to a lovely bar for lunch. I was disappointed in the apparent lack of beauty in the buildings and streets of the area because I had just come from Paris where you can easily be in awe of something architecturally or historically astounding every five metres. (After less than half a day, however, I discovered the real beauty of Madrid, which is in its people and their interaction with the city. Sure, it might not be as spectacular as Paris but it more than makes up for that with the symbiotic relationship it has with its inhabitants. The city provides numerous safe, interesting and engaging places to meet and in turn its patrons behave with consideration and a carefree attitude.)
The worry I had about not being near an accessible body of water like Sydney Harbour has proven to be less of the major issue I was expecting. I live near the water - about five minutes' walk from the Seine - so I get the connection with water I need via the river, and there are plenty of paddling opportunities around the city if one is willing to try something different. I lived an incredibly spoiled life in Sydney, at least as far as paddling (e.g. dragonboating, outrigging, canoeing) was concerned, so I'm not too disappointed in not paddling very often. It helps, of course, to be able to do other forms of exercise, which I do via the gym.
I have become less fanatical about what I eat (some would say that was already happening before I left Sydney...they'd probably be right) and have discovered a small joy in the balance of food. B and I live a life that she calls "dans la maison de l'equilibre" - 'in the house of balance' - a perfect description for our enjoyment of both food & drink and hard work & exercise. This is not to say I wouldn't exercise more if I was paddling but I wouldn't feel guilty about what I was eating if that didn't happen.
The city is alive in a way that Sydney is not. The centre of the city in Sydney, generally speaking and barring the major tourist spots like the Rocks, closes after work finishes and you need to visit the outlying villages and suburbs to find places to eat, drink and be merry. Even then, if it's a Tuesday night for example, you might be out of luck. But Paris is, by contrast, alive almost all the time and even on the unofficial slow nights (Sunday and Monday) there are places open everywhere to get what you need.
These are only my observations based on my experiences and you might disagree in part or whole. If that's the case I'd love to hear your views. Discussing the differences and similarities between the two cities and countries has become something of a party trick for me, especially when I've exhausted my limited French and the party's French guests are over speaking English and need something interesting to talk about, so any differing views would be great.
Ciao for now - dinner's on the table.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment