Paris in the Rain

It's raining in Paris this morning. It was raining yesterday morning too as I walked through my neighborhood to the Metro during rush hour. I was on my way to the Louvre for a class on Neoclassical and Romantic art. I had a thought as I walked, which may or may not be true, but felt valid. It emerged from my appreciation of the weather Saturday night—during Nuit Blanche. Nuit Blanche enjoyed a beautiful night; clouds in the sky, but no threat of rain. The evening was warm. At midnight I was perfectly comfortable in a light jacket... and the moon was full. It was beautiful, glorious, memorable. I'm grateful to have ventured out into the night and partaken of the event.


What struck me, as I walked through the rain, was how beneficent the weather gods had been to Paris, and I felt like I wasn't the only one with that thought in mind. I felt like all around me people were content in the rain, in part, because it had waited to fall until after Nuit Blanche. I know that's overly romantic, but hey...

Another thought followed: it seems to me that what happened here Saturday was that Parisians took back their city. Tourist season officially ended and perhaps most of the visitors in the city now are more like me, staying longer, looking more carefully than the average tourist flying through in the heat of summer. Maybe I'm just trying to elevate myself above the "average," but my point is, it appears that tourists aren't here en mass anymore and Paris is going about life in a slightly different way. Nuit Blanche strikes me as a line of demarcation between the summer tourist season and the more native fall.

I'm happy to be here in the rain. It feels like a chance to see more of Paris and less of tourists. Tourism is a double-edged sword, a plague, in my opinion. The news floating up and out and into English today is that McDonald's has finally managed to become part of the "food court" in the Louvre. There's already a Starbucks and yesterday (blush) I bought a latte there. In that sense, I'm part of the problem and I suspect the McDonald's will cater mostly to tourists as well—especially in the Louvre.

I bought my latte because it was easy… and, yes, familiar. I left my apartment early and didn't take the time to prepare myself coffee, didn't move fast enough to do it. Cafés don't do "to go" — this is a fast food concept that's been imported. America's gift to the world, I suppose. Starbucks is an example of the import. I bought a latte à la America, in a paper cup that I then walked with it over to our meet-up point which was outside the Louvre in the large underground court that surrounds it. When I finished, I tossed my cup in the trash... adding to trash of the world. (Like I said, I blush. It's the first time I've indulged in such behavior. At least I noticed. In the US, I'm not sure I really notice because it's so ubiquitous.)

The food and shops that surround the Louvre are underground in a large shopping mall. It's not on the streets and it's very modern. There's a similar mall at Les Halls, even bigger, I believe, where you can buy just about anything you want. Around the Louvre it's mostly very expensive items. A lot of them are museum gifts: prints, books, jewelry, tourist items—and there are a few cafés and restaurants. Yesterday, I sat in the Louvre's café and drank a café crème and discussed my book with my Art History instructor, Amy. It was our second meeting about my book, and it was exotic to meet there; we talked art and our coffee did not come in a paper cup.

I don't know. Waxing political is difficult in this context. I've been embarrassed by Americans more than once in my short stay. Their sense of obvious entitlement and oblivious self-absorption is apparent far too often. I don't know why Americans are so loud. I prefer to blend, to watch and to do my best to follow the lead of Parisians and expatriates who know the city and have developed ways of being in it that work—like the commuters who know how to stay out of each others way, stay to the right, for example, on the escalators. And by the way, Apple Computers is opening a store in the Louvre's mall soon too. I saw the logo and the workers yesterday as I passed by. The influence of American capitalism is big in Paris it seems to me. Blue jeans are "in," especially with the young. Even speaking English seems "in" among the French. For better or worse, the world is becoming increasingly homogeneous. It's a graceless age.

Okay, enough of that for now: I had a curious adventure in the Louvre yesterday. In the great hall where the Raft of the Medusa is housed (my third time there), I noticed an abandoned backpack. After concluding that it really was abandoned, I decided to report it. Everyone has to go through security to get into the Louvre, similar to airport security and there's a lot of emphasis all over Paris on keeping tabs on bags so they aren't abandoned. When I approached the guard, I asked in French if he spoke English. He responded with uncertainty, not much. I tried in English first, but he didn't understand; he thought I had lost a bag, not found one.

I said to myself, I can do this—I can explain this in French and the words for I saw—J'ai vu came to mind. From there I managed and the guard immediately understood what I was saying. He asked me to show him the bag, and then a few minutes later, after he had concluded that it was indeed abandoned, the room was cleared. In fact they cleared us from all the nearby rooms. An alarm went off. They never shut down the Louvre, but they did take the whole thing very seriously and I felt great satisfaction that I'd done my bit in noticing and communicating—in French. My little DaVinci Code moment. (The images are the only ones that came out, portraits by David.)

Just another day in the life...