I Could Walk for Miles My hometown seems so sterile, so cold for a desert, and I rarely miss it. I like walking around in Paris's little streets, passing people whose faces I recognize, shopping at all of the outdoor markets instead of the indoor supermarché, and browsing through all of the books, CD's and clothes that line the pedestrian streets. No need to ever go into the shops here, they come out to you. If I walked from work to my house as a teenager, it seemed to take longer than the 20 minutes it really was, as I passed huge strip malls, parking lots, identical residential houses, and boring 6-ft. concrete-block walls. Here in Paris I can walk for hours, peering into the windows that have been so carefully decorated. Two points I find particularly satisfying: the prices of the things in the windows are usually listed (no need to go in and ask), and there are little wooden platforms built outside the grands magasins holiday windows so that the children can all see.
Winter is Here It's getting chilly here now, a bit of snow came down Tuesday afternoon, abruptly melting. And those holiday windows at Printemps and Galleries Lafayette are the only reminder that Christmas shopping is on its way. There is certainly commercialism in France for the holidays, but it's more of a nudge here than the violent shove back in the US. A few neighborhoods have begun stringing lights and erecting giant pines in the community squares. I love watching the men come with the hoses to flock the trees white. Very serious business, this decorating. But the people have remained subdued thus far. Unlike back home, no one is worried about Y2K mayhem and madness. Yet. We have bigger, more certain threats to our sanity here in Paris-the strike.
 |
