Tall glass buildings. A jumble of concrete highways twisting just above the ground. That was my first view of Paris when I stepped outside of the airport and onto a hotel-bound bus, far from the ornate apartment buildings and window boxes filled with flowers that in my mind, define Paris.
So after weather complications, a missed flight, and luggage confusion, we at last found ourselves in our own Parisian neighborhood for the next few days. On that bus ride away from the planes and possibilities for endless international adventures, we headed definitively east for our adventure of choice. I gazed out of the window anticipating being dazzled and amazed by the city, being completely entranced by the place that has occupied so many of my thougnts. And to be completely honest, I wasn’t. Not yet.
So after weather complications, a missed flight, and luggage confusion, we at last found ourselves in our own Parisian neighborhood for the next few days. On that bus ride away from the planes and possibilities for endless international adventures, we headed definitively east for our adventure of choice. I gazed out of the window anticipating being dazzled and amazed by the city, being completely entranced by the place that has occupied so many of my thougnts. And to be completely honest, I wasn’t. Not yet.
After re-scheduling our boat tour for another day, we were let loose to take the city by storm. Most of us were too tired to storm with much force, so a few of my wonderful new friends and I decided to explore the neighborhood. We made our way to the Canal St. Martin and went for a quaint, quiet stroll. The banks of the canal were filled with well-dressed young people lounging by the water, young couples gazing at each other, groups of friends laughing and talking and undoubtedly enjoying that moment in time. But we eventually passed four different Parisians in tears being comforted by their companions, a new ex-spouse, a caring relative, an exceptional friend perhaps. And I felt their sadness because they are human, and I am human, and for better or for worse, pain in a universal feeling. I pointed the observation out to my own companions that afternoon, and I got a wise response back: “It’s the city of love, and you can’t have love without heartbreak.”
How incredibly true! You can’t have love without pain every once in a while, and you can’t have a beautiful city without some places that are lacking in character. But the pain doesn’t make the initial love any less significant, and the city parts that are neglected don’t make the parts that are magnificent any less breathtaking. It is both the good and the bad that make up any whole, as a whole cannot be pieced together without some parts that are tainted; because nothing is ever perfect. Not even Paris. And not even Parisian loves.
Slight disclaimer: I am writing this after 33 sleepless hours, so I apologize for any thoughts that may seem at all incomprehensible.
How incredibly true! You can’t have love without pain every once in a while, and you can’t have a beautiful city without some places that are lacking in character. But the pain doesn’t make the initial love any less significant, and the city parts that are neglected don’t make the parts that are magnificent any less breathtaking. It is both the good and the bad that make up any whole, as a whole cannot be pieced together without some parts that are tainted; because nothing is ever perfect. Not even Paris. And not even Parisian loves.
Slight disclaimer: I am writing this after 33 sleepless hours, so I apologize for any thoughts that may seem at all incomprehensible.