20 Sep 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, No Comments.
09/20 Paris, France
I attached myself to the rear of a group touring Notre Dame. After I came down from the tower I found myself sitting among delinquents in the square just outside the church. After I finished a cigarette I proceeded down to the Louve. It took me all day to wander its halls, a maze of inconveniences. I planned on coming back in a day or two to catch up on what I missed. I always wanted to learn how to paint, so I enjoyed watching the students copy the masters. Sometimes my honest curiosity would be embraced but there was just too much to absorb in a day. I like the rain; it’s those damp chestnut trees that give Paris that sweet smell. I was surrounded by the dancing colors of the Seine as I meandered about. Crossing path with lovers made me a bit sad that I was sharing this with no one, walking alone. Paris is a beautiful city with all its parks and I took advantage resting alongside a glass of wine on my way to the Toude Plaume. If I was a painter I would be an impressionist. I believe the reality lies within its distance of clarity. Photographs can never quite capture the mood of the artist.
I even gained a new perspective of rush hour traffic, Paris style. There was no courtesy when it came to the French. Pushing and shoving, even the lampposts have their arms crossed. One man while trying to get off a subway car got entangled with a ladies purse straps and he actually turned and struck her. I was shocked. Everybody standing within view had the expression that his actions were not out of line but common place. I place all my weight on one foot, crossed, had my hands in my pocket and a shoulder wedged against an arm pole and let my body sway with the movements of the subway train. Looking length wise through the door into the adjacent car, I still have flashbacks of Jacob’s Ladder playing over in my mind. Eyes were staring back with that blank look and trying to make as little contact as possible. Twenty, forty, sixty, sometimes they made me feel like a ghost. Since I planned on taking an early train into Versailles tomorrow, I kind of curtailed my consumption of alcohol. I loved those streets, their width, brass lamps and beds of flowers. Paris demands an awful lot of walking and I slept like a baby.
