My love of Paris

Even before my birth, I was in love with Paris. My French–Canadian mother sang of Paris’ parks, people and, of course, Madame la Tour Eiffel while getting my nursery ready. She believed that if something came from France it had some kind of divine quality. As a good mama’s boy it did rub off on me. I cannot tell if my affair with Paname starting with a book, a film or a song, but after going there numerous times one thing is sure--there will not be an end to it.

On my first day in Paris, in 1980, I immediately felt at ease. After two days, I understood why I had felt like a fish out of water in my little bilingual Canadian capital! Finally, everything made sense. Everything was natural and I was totally content. My first evening in le Marais (the gay village was just starting back then) I found a piano bar called Le Piano Zinc on rue des Blancs-Manteaux. After a drink, I followed the sound of a group of gentlemen singing and as I entered the room, it was as if they had been waiting for me. Suddenly, thirty fellows started singing my mother’s favorite song, “Sur les quais du vieux Paris”.

I was home. Literally, home.

Everyone has his own appreciation of Paris, and with each visit our comprehension and our experiences grow. We return to favorite places but always discover something new. But what is this fascination? The creativity of the Parisians? The majestic grandeur of the architecture? The energy and dynamism of New York City, but with a more human scale? The famous café culture? The art de vivre and all its attention to detail? People living in the present instead of running for what is next?

As far as I am concerned, the difficulty of pinning the reasons down is, itself, one of the fascinations. So, that is why I keep on returning, returning and returning....