I never really wanted to go to Paris. For me, it was a place full of common clichés, overrun by tourists, and most likely very overrated and overpriced, one the biggest tourist traps in the world a lot of people trying to avoid.
However, looking back, I think Paris really wanted to see me. My mom is a young lady, but she had a big birthday on March 8th, which typically happens during spring break. As a former French teacher living in a Soviet cage, she could only dream about ever going to France. So, if I ever took her there, it would be best to do it now. Also, my 16-year-old daughter announced that she is canceling her summer trip with us because she has plans of her own (really, since when?) So, I had to use her Delta Airlines flight credit before the fall of this year, which more logically fell on spring break. The last trick Paris used on me was my 80K Delta SkyMiles, which were practically useless unless I used them on the specific dates from March 5 to March 12, flying from Dallas to Paris, paying just $90 for my round trip. All three arguments worked, and my mom had a great chance to spend her birthday week with her favorite girls in a country she had taught kids about for much of her life.
Our first three days we spent in Normandie. After our long overnight flight, the Paris metro, and two trains that took us to Rouen, Mom said she wants to return to Texas because French people are not friendly enough, and no one was smiling at her as she expected. My heart sank. I was trying to reason with her about the fact that people who use public transportation in Dallas are not that friendly either, but I did not sound very convincing. How could she know?
So I turned to my not-so-secret weapon.
After a couple of glasses of heavenly Bordeaux with the famous Camembert de Normandie, she exclaimed that who needs the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower if there are real French people around who speak real French to her. My weapon obviously worked.
Normandie was lovely. Wood frame houses in fairytale towns, magnificent gothic cathedrals, scenic countryside, exceptional local food, drunken brawl on our stairwell in the middle of the night, street protests against the new retirement age, no train at our scheduled time because of the strike - everything was uniquely French.
And then, we were off to Paris.
After the old, crowded, almost suffocating Paris metro, getting out to the streets of Montmartre near Abesse station felt liberating. Just imagine, early spring, a light airy crossroad where you can feel the moment of very Parisian liberté.
I didn’t have high expectations, which made it easy for Paris to exceed them.
It’s simply a fun place to be. A city that invites you to live fully, to notice everything, to indulge a little. Light, free-spirited, romantic, and effortlessly elegant. Feminine, even.
The perfect place to be with your girls.
On our first dinner the waiter asked me: “ Were you here yesterday?”, and to my own surprise I responded in long forgotten French: “Aujourd’hui et mon premier jour à Paris ”.
Your French is too good for the first day, he said.
I looked at mom. She looked at him like she was surprisingly offended by someone questioning our knowledge of the local language. “Of course” she said, “I’m a former French professor.”
By the end of our dinner he was calling her: “ My French girl.”
Paris is cold in March. Especially compared to Texas. While she was freezing on one of the Sena bridges looking at the panorama along the river banks she simply said : This is the most beautiful city I’ve ever seen. It even beats Sanct-Petersburg. This is how cold Paris can deliver the warmest memories.
Looking at my mom, me and my daughter, one could hardly tell we are related. We look very different. One of the things we have in common, though, is that all three of us think our mothers are embarrassing.
But the best thing we have in common is this:
On our first trip to Paris, we did it together.
We loved the city. And it felt like it loved us back.
On our last night, walking through Montmartre, I looked up and felt raindrops on my face. Paris was crying to see me leaving.
“Don’t cry, mon amour,” I thought. We’ll come back as often as we can.
And even if we don’t— we’ll love you forever.