Paris, FR - Don't Baguette the Cheese

regankubena353
Apr 8, 2023
6 min read

BONJOUR PARIS

After we learned how to take the Paris Metro, we felt like we had Paris at our fingertips. We went from the City Center to Disneyland, the Eiffel Tower to Montmartre, and the Louvre to Notre Dame. It was a quick and efficient way to get around, but it also offered a unique view of Persians and their culture. Everyone was beautifully dressed, from long woolen coats to silky scarves and stylish boots. Even more admirable was that no one on the Metro appeared to be fixated on their phones. They either took out a newspaper or a book or stared steadily ahead. I was fascinated. I felt like I could have taken out a book and read on the Metro all day with no one batting an eye.

It wasn't until we took the Trocadéro Metro during rush hour that we encountered our first hurdle to Metro travel - congestion. As the train skid to a halt in front of us, the doors slid open to reveal hundreds of people squeezed onto the train, gripping the rails with nary any space between them - and I was even more aghast as the crowd surged forward and tried to make a place for themselves in the already packed train. Derek pushed me on and my paper bag (carrying my priceless baguette and croissant) flung forward and got caught in the crowd. As Derek and a couple of other passengers tried to get on, I was trying to tug my paper bag out from between the sardined passengers. A part of me was worried that Derek wasn't going to make it on the packed train, another part was worried that I had forever lost my croissant and baguette to the sea of people. The bag had somehow wedged itself between the back of one lady and the front of another. I felt someone press into my back and as I tried to step forward, it was then that my bag came free. I held it protectively to my chest as the doors beeped, signaling that they were about to close. I couldn't see if Derek had made it on - neither could I immediately tell how damaged my baguette and croissant were since I was pressed between a man wearing a top hat and a tan coat and a lady who made her displeasure at her lack of space known by loudly huffing and tossing her hair.

It was then that I heard Derek's laugh. He was talking to someone (whom he was undeniably also pressed against) regarding the space on the train. "Is it always like this?" his voice seemed to break the silence and I heard the Persian laugh in response. As they continued cordially chatting, I pretended my space bubble had not erupted, that an elbow was not poking into my back, and that my baguette was not crooked and missing half of its length.

The door slid open and my sigh of relief quickly turned into a gasp as more people seemed to make their way onto the train. It wasn't until five stops later that Derek was able to pull me out from my place gripping the railing. He laughed when he saw my beheaded baguette and flattened bag.

"When in Paris." He smiled as we made our way up to the escalator onto our next adventure.

LITTÉRAIRE PARIS

"There are only two places in the world where we can live happy: at home and in Paris." - Ernest Hemingway

When I was in third grade, I had a book-themed birthday party (I know, I was pretty cool). My love of books knew no bounds, and between my book-shaped cake and book-themed party favors, I was in my happy place. Surrounded by books. It was at that party that I was gifted with my first book-themed calendar (which would eventually turn into an annual tradition). It featured famous bookstores from around the world, and I happily hung it next to my growing bookcase. It wasn't until May, that Paris' Shakespeare & Company made its appearance. It was different from the rest, in the sense that the picture seemed to transport me back to the 1800s. With bolded block lettering and a rustic green background with a cart of books, I could envision men in longtails and top hats and women in frivolous gowns browsing through the books. I circled the picture and wrote it on my bucket list, but never in a hundred years did I envision that I would be standing in front of it.

"Why is this place so famous? Did it belong to Shakespeare?" Derek asked as we waited in the long line that led inside Shakespeare and Company.

I shook my head and pointed to a quote by George Whitman, that was painted, like a sign in front of the bookshop, "I created this bookstore like a man would write a novel, building each room like a chapter, and I like people to open the door the way they open a book, a book that leads into a magic world in their imaginations."

George Whitman took over ownership from Sylvia Beach in the 1950s (and changed the location), but for decades the shop became an informal living room - and sometimes a bedroom - for writers who would take refuge there. Whitman made a deal with these unannounced travelers that for two hours’ work every day - as well as the vague promise of reading one book every day - he would let them stay for free in the shop, sleeping on cots tucked away between the stacks of books. Some of the most revered writers in literature found themselves at Shakespeare and Company: Ernest Hemingway, Oscar Wilde, and F. Scott Fitzgerald, to name a few.

“Be not inhospitable to strangers,” reads a sign that still stands like a motto in the shop today, “lest they be angels in disguise.”

Pictures were not permitted inside Shakespeare & Company, but my imagination didn't hold a candle to reality. It was much larger than it looked on the outside, with quotes painted on the walls and on the stairs. Books of every shape and size were stacked in wall-size bookcases. The stairs led to a reading room, which was decorated in plush Victorian décor. An old typewriter was placed on a shelf that was overhung with books and surrounded by bookcases. I could have been lost there all day. I took mental pictures as I told Derek that this was it; this was how I wanted my at-home library to look. It was a dream come true and well worth the wait.

BON APPÉTIT PARIS

Paris has ruined all baguettes, croissants, cheese, eclairs, hot chocolate, and macarons for me. Persians would walk down the street just snacking on a long baguette, and I completely understood why. Everything we ate was ultimately "the best food I have ever had". Two of the main reasons I travel are for the books and the food. Paris, undeniably, had both.

The staff was friendly and helpful (pointing me to the best vegetarian dishes). Derek had the best onion soup of his life at La Jacobine. I know this because, for days after, he would not stop talking about it. The soup had bits of bread and loads of cheese ("not only at the top but the bottom!"). Of all the places we have visited, Paris takes the top prize for the food.

DISNEYLAND PARIS

I was enchanted. The atmosphere, the music, the pink castle that seemed to preside over the park. That is, until I saw the 30-minute waiting times for the rides. Admittedly, I am one of those people who love roller coaster rides, until it is time to strap in and I become convinced the ride will malfunction and catapult me from the seat. Usually, the photos from the rides show me with my eyes tightly shut and screaming, while Derek is joyfully laughing beside me.

Our second ride of the day was Buzz Lightyear, and I was excited about this ride since there was no fear of death (as the Tower of Terror had so suddenly dropped on me). All you do is sit and shoot at these little minions. I beat Derek's amount and when the ride ended and I stood up to take a picture of my (almost doubled) score. I didn't notice that when you stepped off the ride there was a moving walkway, and as I proceeded to step off, my foot slipped and my knee slammed into the corner of the ride. I held back tears of pain as I hopped out of the building. Derek helped me to the nearest bench as I nursed my knee. The one ride I had been unafraid to go on had mockingly cut me off at the knees. Overall, I loved Disneyland, and one injured knee wasn't going to stand in my way from dancing/hobbling to "Dream Bigger and Shine Brighter" at Disney's midday parade.