The Return of Paris Angst

It's time to share Paris with its rightful owners again. No more breezy parking maneuvers and jostle-free promenades. They're back (a few shades orange-er granted) and ready to elbow themselves through post office lines and overtake sidewalks with their jumbo-sized poussettes.
Sadly enough the sun seems to be in on the whole thing. As if la rentrée weren't disheartening enough, now we have to scuttle around the crowded city in sweaters and wet feet. And even if the morning gloom and early nights will send Parisians packing for weekend getaways in no time, it no longer seems as fun to be left behind.

Audrey Hepburn as Regina Lampert. [Online image] 1963.

Summer in the Country

People outside of the Paris area look and sound different. They're not quite as slim; their clothes aren't quite as swanky; their tournures de phrase aren't as charmantes. In short, as a Versaillaise I know put it: "Le Français moyen n'est vraiment pas beau." But beautiful or not, the Français moyen happens to inhabit the picaresque French countryside that Parisians can't seem to get enough of--at least for a weekend at a time.
Perhaps it's not merely the leisurely riparian picnics and fresh country air, though, that propel French people to leave the comforts of city life again and again. One can't help wondering if part of urban elites' persistent attraction to la France profonde is due to pure snobisme. Indeed, with their 75s on their license plates, textbook grammar, and names that don't sound like they've been taken from an American teen drama series, Parisians must feel pretty snazzy next to their beauf compatriots.
Or maybe they see it as a chance to let down their Parisian guard for a day or two. Who knows: en cachette, they might even remember how to smile again.

Sylvia Bataille as Henriette. [Online image] 1936.

Summer in the City

In France, staying put in July and August is a bit like asking for ketchup with your snails. Ça ne se fait pas. But with la crise, more and more French families are opting for dépaysants day trips over month-long holidays. Luckily marooned Parisians have it especially easy with a slew of outdoor pools, like the Josephine Baker, at their doorstep--not to mention Paris Plages. If only commerçants would get into la crise spirit and not close shop all of August, Parisians could continue that favorite of of all vacation pastimes: le shopping.

Homemade swimming pool for steelworkers' children, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania by Arthur Rothstein, [Online image] 1938.

All in a Day at the Park

When summer comes to Paris, those who are still cooped up in the city flock to the nearest park in search of a quiet patch of shade. And soon the capital's espaces verts become dotted with picnickers and sunbathers, making them a fountain of free sociological information--and entertainment.
You can really learn a lot about a quartier from a park bench. Peering over the pages of an open book, you can innocently people-watch for hours, taking in everyone from the endimanché elderly couple sitting one bench over, quietly bickering, to the bare-chested, middle-aged man standing up and yelling on his cellphone to a flustered mother trying to remember how to play with her children again now that the nounou is on vacation. Unfortunately, as you are in a public, neighborhood park, you can't expect to hide behind your book indefinitely. At some point, someone will manage to squeeze herself and her summery spirits down next to you and begin some banal banter ("It's sure a hot day, isn't it?"). How can you break it to her that there's no fun in people-watching a good-natured Parisien?

Kristin Davis as Charlotte York Goldblatt. [Online image] 2004.

Would the Ritz by Any Other Name Smell as Sweet?

From the elegance of Audrey Hepburn to the sordidness of arms dealers, the Ritz in Paris has made quite a name for itself over the years. Since its opening in 1898, it is also one of the few Paris landmarks that has remained largely unvisited by Parisians and tourists alike--no doubt making it all the more enticing to those who can afford it. 

Of course, no matter what you're able or willing to pay (11 euros for a glass of juice or 300 times that much for a modest suite), the Ritz is more than happy to offer you a taste of its name--not that that makes it any less intimidating to push your way though its turning doors past chic veiled women laden with even chic-er carrier bags. 

But walking out into the city again with echoes of the French staff addressing you in hushed, polite--dare I say helpful?--tones, it's hard not to feel like that that was one taste of Paris that was deliciously worth it.

Peter O'Toole and Audrey Hepburn as Simon Dermott and Nicole Bonnet. [Online image] 1966.

Getting Around Paris

Whether you're on foot, driving, Vélib-ing it, or swimming about, maneuvering around Paris takes some pretty fast decision-making and quite a lot of guts (or a very snug blindfold).
Crossing the street is not a simple matter of waiting for the petit bonhomme to turn green and then looking both ways. As a pedestrian, you are in an undeclared battle against all the cars and motos and bikes zooming your way. Some piétons may stoop to using their poussettes to stop traffic, but the pro doesn't need to resort to such methods. A glare at a nervy driver followed by a stern tap on the flank of his vehicle should be enough to cool most sets of wheels. And if all else fails, you can always yell, "Connard!" at the exhaust pipe as it races away. Just remember that this is a solo sport: don't expect any encouragement from bystanders sipping espresso at sidewalk cafés or a helping hand from the fellow competitors at your side. Trip and fall on the sidewalk in your brand new Tropéziennes soldées, and no one will bother turning around. You're just going to have to pick yourself up and keep on going. Or try life in Paris' fast lane. But after a tour ou deux around the Place de l'Etoile, you might find yourself begging for life as a lowly piéton again.

La Meute by Robert Doisneau. [Online Image] 1969.

"Les Grandes Vacances"

When General De Gaulle quibbled about governing a country with so many types of cheese, he obviously hadn't been on vacation in a while. If he had, he would have seen how manageable the French actually are.
As soon as les grandes vacances approach, les Gaulois begin pairing off in an orderly fashion before packing themselves off for a quinzaine or two at one of the Hexagone's designated vacation spots. Originality isn't a criterion. It's all a matter of leaving one's primary residence for a period of two to four weeks: the partir part of the partir en vacances equation is just as important as the vacances half.
Of course, the French don't all spend their vacances in the same style. The more populaire crowd camps out in tents, while across the hedge, bourgeois vacanciers play home improvement in their own résidences secondaires.
But whether they're sporting BCBG white and navy stripes and bateaux or dreadlocks and bare feet, they're all in one place, enjoying the same sun and sand--though some might choose to eat American cheese before admitting it.

Audrey Hepburn and Albert Finney as Joanna and Mark Wallace. [Online image] 1964.