One of my biggest disappointments when I lived in Europe was the lack of time I got to spend in Paris. It was a disappointing whirl-wind of seeing virtually nothing. At the worst time of the year, we drove though, on our way to Angers.
Now Angers was spectacular. What a magnificent city. It was beautiful and friendly, it was everything I wanted Paris to be… but never got to experience. So I promised myself someday I will go back to Paris just to see it.
My hilariously short 48 hours in Paris was anything but pleasant. It was the first time I was confronted with a very strong hatred of Americans. I was actually shocked. I had never experienced that before. I never experienced people just being cruel because of my country of origin.
Now people will say that’s silly. Certainly I was just being overly temperamental. But the sad part is I wasn’t.
I was young and I had no real understanding of geo-politics regarding French-American relations so perhaps there were reasons for the hostile attitudes. But the simple fact was when I spoke English I was very harshly treated. It was an onslaught of insults, attitude, and even vendors refusing to deal with me.
I was 16. It felt like a personal attack.
If I spoke German with my family, then I was treated well and had no issues and the people were kind and patient.
Clearly after experimenting a few times I learned it was definitely because I was an American.
It was so blatant, that when we sat at a lovely restaurant in central Paris for dinner, my host dad explained something to me in English, as my German isn’t always perfect and I didn’t understand any french. That was enough to raise the alarms of the wait staff.
The treatment of me during our dinner was so blatantly mean, the guy at the next table chastised the owner and staff. I have no idea who this man was, but he was clearly with his girlfriend. He stopped the staff and barked loudly at them. He then ordered a new dinner and several bottles of wine and both he and his girlfriend joined us for dinner, apologizing for the treatment. He wanted me to know not all French people were like this.
I am grateful to that man, whoever he was. She showed extraordinary kindness to me in a place where I felt constantly under attack.
Perhaps that has made me hesitant to go back to Paris alone. I don’t want to be subject to that again.
But I really do want to see the city. I don’t care about the Eiffel Tower, or the touristy non-sense.
I just want to sit by the river, watch the city go by.
I am an odd type of tourist. I have no interest in the sights or sounds every other tourist clamors to.
For me the purest form of experience is to find a place to sit and just watch life as it goes by. To watch the people, the colors, listen to the language and sounds. I prefer to just be present in the moment and appreciate all the various aspects of my new environment.
My version of tourism has nothing to do with seeing anything, but experiencing everything.
So I guess at some point I need to brave the bias and just go. Find a set of steps to sit on, and just watch the world go by in Paris.
Someday.