Abby in Paris

"In many ways the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgement."

-- Anton Ego (Ratatouille) 

Everyone, it seems, has an opinion on the city of Paris. For all of my life I had heard the seemingly fantastical tales of the City of Light from my grandparents, from friends, from media, from everywhere in fact. The Disney classic, Ratatouille, set in Paris, was my favorite movie as a kid (and still is), further fueling my imaginative picture of what the city is really like. I had expectations of a city brimming with fresh baguettes, buttery croissants, and beret-topped Parisians all with a backdrop of a gleaming Eiffel tower and sparking Seine. 

Before I left, I made a little promise to myself that I would not be disappointed. I knew that my image of Paris was too good to be true and therefore I should prepare for a more realistic version of the place that I made up in my head. That being said, as I caught the first glimpses of Paris through the window of my train, I couldn't keep up my cool, mysterious girl demeanor as a smile forced its way onto my face. I should not have been concerned, however, I am pleased to say that Paris exceeded my wildest expectations (I saw people wearing berets approximately 60 seconds after stepping off the train), due in no small part I am sure, by the fact that I got to experience it through the well-developed lenses of my grandparents, whom I was meeting up with during their annual Parisian adventure. 

 

My grandma has been going for months at a time, almost every year, since 1995 and has developed a great community over the past 30 years. She has curated a rapport with countless shop owners, demonstrating perfectly concepts of community-building that I rarely see in action, but am constantly reading about and referring to in my academic work. She has a tradition of taking a photo with her favorite shop owners, and then gifting them a printed version of the photo the following year. This kind of interaction is simple, yet serves both the purpose of giving a reason for interaction, as well as a reminder to both gifter and recipient of the relationship that they have nurtured over the years. Since she has been doing this for so long, some of these interactions even span generations, starting with the parents and going down to their children. 

Being with my grandparents was great. I have never spent so much one-on-two time with them and it was a great way to get to know them in a different context-- a little bit more like people, and not so much as grandparents. I am beyond grateful to have been able to experience Paris with them.

On the first night I was there, we went for dinner in a restaurant that has only one menu for two months, they serve you six courses, and after each one ask you to guess what the flavors are. This was definitely my favorite eating experience of all time. Since there was that extra task of guessing the flavors, and not knowing what the dish would be before tasting, this encourages the eater to be very present with the food and experience it fully. It again, reminded me so much of that scene in Ratatouille where Remi is eating fruit and cheese together and experiencing the flavors joining together. To add to the experience, we were sitting at the bar, so we were able to watch the food preparation in real time. Even being able to watch what was going down "behind the scenes" it was still a challenge to identify some of the flavors. It reminded me that, unless I am actually cooking a meal, I often don't pay much attention to the actual flavors that go into making a food taste amazing. When I eat something great I usually think "wow so tasty!" but don't go further than that. Since having this eating experience, I have been paying greater attention to the individual flavors that go into making a food amazing and it has made the process of cooking and eating, that much more enjoyable. 

I could go on about all the good food and wine I had while in Paris, but this is not a food blog, I fear. Like I said, I went to Paris with great expectations, prepared to be let down, however, the opposite happened. On the first morning that I was there, I decided to go for a little walk. I stopped on my way to the Seine to grab a pain au chocolat, and had the Ratatouille soundtrack playing in my earbuds. As I made my way down the street, pastry in hand, I thought about what my younger self would say if she could see me now. I think subconsciously this moment had always been a dream of mine, and achieving it brought very real tears to my eyes (which I obviously covered with my sunglasses because like I said, I am a very cool and mysterious girl). 

After writing this blog I am realizing that Ratatouille has had a bigger impact on my life than I thought...

Linguini Spotted

Another dream materialized during this trip as well. One of working in Paris on their emerging bike network. One of the people I met during the trip was my grandparents close friend, Analexi and her family. Her husband, Francois, is an avid bike user and offered to take me, and my grandpa on a bike tour around Paris. Now, Paris has been mentioned a lot in the bike planning world recently for its efforts to implement bike infrastructure in the city, so my expectations were not zero. Maybe I've gone soft, living and biking in the Netherlands, but to me this experience was a far cry from the peaceful bliss I've come to associate cycling with. It served as a great reminder that the world, apart from the Netherlands, has serious cognitive dissonance when it comes to cycling infrastructure. The biggest takeaway from this experience was this: If the rules and infrastructures in place do not make sense, people will not use/follow them. Cyclists in many cities have negative connotations associated with them, saying that they don't follow traffic laws, and are dangerous both to themselves and to others. Car drivers hate them, pedestrians hate them, even other cyclists have issues with those who don't follow the regional norms. This is due in large part to only one fact: All transport systems are designed with cars in the central position. This means that bike "safety" laws do not make sense when applied to your average cyclist. For example, bikes in Paris have to yield to cars, and pedestrians, making them lowest on the priority food chain. Bikes must ride in traffic with cars, who grant very little space for their two-wheeled friends, making left turns sketchy at best. Cyclists in these kinds of cities pride themselves on knowing which rules are safe to disregard and how to best work in the system that was not designed for them. This learning curve is what keeps many from using a bike in the first place. If you don't know what you're doing it, it is inefficient and frustrating at best, and dangerous at worst. 

Francois took us in his learned patterns, and for me, unused to the norms in Paris, it felt pretty sketchy. In Portland, I know how to work the system for myself and so I feel safe, but in a new environment it is hard to judge how drivers perceive you (if at all) and what the road pattern is. In a place like the Netherlands, nearly all of the bike paths are separated and protected from car traffic, and on those that are not, bikes have right of way and priority over all modes. This kind of infrastructure and rules means that 99% of cyclists abide by the set rules and everyone is able to enjoy riding a bike, no matter their experience level. 

I started to imagine what a Paris with Dutch cycling infrastructure could be like, and the only word that came to mind was "perfection". It would be paradise. Warm people, good food, beautiful architecture, and the ability to move safely and comfortably on two wheels. I would never leave. All I need to do to be a part of this change is to learn French... wish me luck. 

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