First Thoughts on France

After an uneventful Chunnel Crossing on the sleek Eurostar train, we arrived in Paris on Sunday night (Oct. 7). The train ride is close to 3 hours, though crossing under the English Channel takes only 20 minutes of that time. I was expecting a big announcement of some kind to commemorate the crossing (something like "Say your final prayers now, just in case the pressure of the tunnel finally gives" might have sufficed), but there was nothing of the sort. I didn't even realize we'd crossed until we made a stop in Lille, the first city on France's side.

Relieved that my first fear had come to nothing, I gathered my belongings and prepared to face my second fear: French train thieves that hang out in train stations and terrorize unsuspecting tourists. Determined not to be one of the nàive ones, I clutched my suitcase with all my might and looked around at . . . lots of other tourists like me. Surprisingly (or not), the station wasn't what I expected: scary and unpredictable. At least, not scary. Unpredictable, yes, but in an interesting way: as soon as we stepped off the train and walked towards the station, we could sense an immediate difference in the energy level of the people around us. You could hear the excitement in people's voices, and there was a feeling of gaiety all around. Just inside the station, a group of young children were performing a choreographed dance to beautiful music. Onlookers gathered together to watch, delighted at the scene. We knew immediately that we were not in England anymore. (This incident, in fact, has been similarly replicated multiple times in the few days that we've been here. Whether we're walking along the Seine river, past a cafè, or through the subway tunnels, we've been serenaded with music. We've heard accordions, fluteophones, opera singers - even a French horn! I constantly feel as if I'm in a movie, surrounded by all this music.)

I don't know what I expected to encounter here in Paris; in fact, it's the city I read the least about before arriving. Anna was definitely the more excited of the two of us to come to Paris. But I've discovered, much to my delight, that Paris is a city that truly deserves the lovely compliments it's paid (things like "City of Lights" and "Most Romantic City"). I've been enchanted the entire time we've been here. There are grand, stately buildings everywhere, and the elegance of this city meets you in the most unexpected ways: the gracefulness of the people, the way the buildings are lit at night, and the peaceful refuges you can find even in the midst of this sprawling city. Oddly, for as large as this city is, you don't get a crazy, frantic feeling at all, the way you do in a place like New York. Tonight, Anna and I sat outside of Notre Dame, soaking up the calmness and beauty of the area. As we sat there, we could see several disparate things happening at once: a group of young people performing and dancing to rap music (but turned down so low we couldn't actually hear it), couples strolling arm in arm, and groups of others milling nearby. Somehow, despite the presence of so many different people around us, we could still sit peacefully at the foot of the Cathedral with the feeling that the night could not be more perfect.

It is wonderful to be here in Paris, in a way I wouldn't have imagined. I will have plenty more to say about this later, when I've had some to time to really take it all in. In the meantime, I'll be sipping coffee and eating things like mousse and cremè brulee late at night in charming little cafès. Life's tough these days . . .