Eurostardom

London has never been so close to the Continent. In a little over 2 hours, you can swap your café au lait and pain au chocolat for a strong cup of tea with milk and warm scones smothered in clotted cream. You might be slightly fazed by the plethora of Paul boulangeries popping up next to teahouses and pubs, but you won't wonder for long whether you just dreamt your transplantation. For one, that lady with the stroller who just bumped into you? She didn't keep on walking with her chin thrust out like some kind of weapon. Instead, she rested her hand on your arm, looked at you with sincere eyes, and said the unutterable for Parisians: "I'm sorry."
Then there are the monuments. Fancy a peek at the British Library's prized shelves? Don't be disconcerted by nightmarish memories of the BNF's massive steel doors and mazelike corridors. The English came up with a library that doesn't make visitors feel like they're too stupid or unworthy to behold books.
You gotta wonder how a country so intent on keeping its monarchy can be so bloody democratic.

Kevin Kline and Jamie Lee Curtis . [Online image] 1988.

Every Little Breeze Seems to Whisper. . .

Spring always seems to arrive in Paris overnight. One day, your fingers are shivering as you button up your coat, and the next morning you find yourself kicking off your boots and slipping your bare feet into a pair of flats.
Of course, some people just grin and bear the heat. The French seem to have a disrobing angst when it comes to winter coats and scarves. "En avril, ne vous découvrez pas d'un fil ; en mai, faites ce qui vous plaît," the saying goes. Heaven only knows what would happen if you start showing some skin in March!

Audrey Hepburn as Ariane Chavasse. [Online image] 1957.

Another Side of Gay Paris

Despite Paris' steady embourgeoisement since the 1950s, citadins of the capital of fashion and romance are not always trippping down the street in la dernière mode, arm in arm with a dapper Prince Charmant.
Crouched on the sidewalk outside supermarkets or on top of glauques underground staircases, less fortunate Parisians raise their heads as bustling shoppers and commuters rush by. "Bonjour, bonjour," a monotonous voice repeats, switching to "Merci, merci" every time someone slows down to drop a shiny coin into a weathered cup.
Around 8 pm (dinnertime in France), you might see the voice's owner waiting in line for a plastic bowl of steaming soup, as across the street, a parallel world laughs and blows cigarette smoke in-between gourmet forkfuls.

Juliette Binoche as Michèle Stalens. [Online image] 1991.

Baobabs in the Garden

My eyes moved from growth to growth of mistletoe distorting the silhouettes of trees. I hardly noticed the ropes of liane snaking up and down the branches of the big poirier. The younger strands were reddish brown, bursting here and there into puffs of creamy down. "It can't be a weed," I said. "Start pulling, and you'll see." So I tugged as hard as I could, my feet staggering backward and the palms of my hands burning against the stubborn vine. And then there it was, defeated and lifeless in a heap by my feet. I reached for another strand of the creeper and another. "Don't be too greedy, or you'll bring the whole tree down." But I wanted to tear all the weeds out at once. I wanted to feel them give, like gray hairs being plucked clean from their roots.
So I yanked at the twisting ropes until I was covered in their cream-colored fluff, and you laughed, as you coaxed the vine gently down, letting the tree breathe again.

Maureen O'Sullivan as Jane Parker. [Online image] 1940s.