Paris proper is divided into 20 regions called arrondissements. I’ve landed in the 11th, at the home of a truly wonderful French/Belgian family that I know from Brooklyn. The buildings in this part of the city are richly detailed, and intimate despite being more massive than the brownstones that I am accustomed to. In places, they climb around and on top of each other like they’ve been play-fighting since the 18th century.
The density and detail seem to go on forever and collectively represent the greatest human endeavor I think I’ve ever seen. It seems impossible that any other place could have been crafted with greater attention to detail. If our species had called it quits once Paris was done, we could have held our heads high. New York seems a bit extraneous by comparison.
The streets were clearly arranged before the invention of the right angle so sight-lines are quickly interrupted. Looking down the length of avenues and streets in NYC, one catches snippets of Brooklyn, Queens and Jersey and can feel the limits of the city. Here, there is no telling where it ends. The only option is to surrender to the possibility of never finding a way out, and I’m fine with that!
Butchers and cheese shops here use the same type of chest-high glass cases but here they sit on casters that allow them to be pushed half way out of the store. There are streets where almost every establishment projects out into the street this way, blurring inside and outside. The culture of outside seems so fierce that it’s hard to imagine winter ever gets a toehold.
The building I am in was built before the Revolution - sometime before the 1790’s. Every surface that you’d tend to want level slopes in a direction different from other surfaces that you’d want level. The wooden stairs have been so worn that the middle of each tread was cut out and replaced with a new strip of wood that is in turn worn. And there are strange things in the building like mystery fountains.
The building is on a little passage called Passage de la Bonne Graine (see third photo) which is itself off a bustling street called Rue de Faubourg. RDF is more or less like broadway in Manhattan but the second one turns off into one of the many passages, the quiet is stunning. The 11e is supposedly the arrondissement of passages which makes it super-fun to lope around (i.e. get lost) in. Considering my walk today, I get the impression that the place is central. Without way finding I managed to stumble across the Pantheon, Le Jardin de Luxembourg and Notre Dame. The gardens are interesting in that they have something for everyone. In le Jardin de Luxembourg, gold plated statues mingled with hoops, swing set and the like.
Paris is a place of sprawling. Not sprawl of the suburban variety. Rather, people here sprawl at every opportunity. In the parks and gardens, people shed their clothes and relax, often on top of each other.
They do likewise on thin strips of grass along the seine and they tangle around each other on benches that seem specifically designed for the purpose. Where NY benches are ribbed to prevent reclining, the benches here are broad, uninterrupted scoops, made for two. The city seems to do everything in its power to foster intimacy. It seems to work. Paris, it seems, is still for lovers.
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