Oh Paris. I wanted to love you. I wanted you to be the city I dreamed of, the city that inspired to me travel when I read about you so many years ago. But, you’re not that city. You’re great and you’re quirky and you’re filled with fun things, but we just didn’t jive. My heart wasn’t in it. It’s not you, it’s me has never felt more apropos. And I think that’s why I couldn’t love you. Because I wanted to love the pre-war Paris, the Hemingway Paris. But that Paris doesn’t exist anymore. And it doesn’t help that I can’t speak French, so I felt completely lost. When I took the train to Germany, it was almost like coming home. I knew how things worked and I fit in.
I still love the view from Sacre Coeur. That church will always have a special place in my heart (but I’d forgotten how many steps I had to walk up to get there). But while I think you’re nice, you don’t compare to the laughing, outgoing people of Munich. Or the artsy, hip vibe from Berlin. Or the layers of history and culture of Prague.
What saddened me the most about Paris, was that even though I stayed in an apartment out of the city center, an area that seemed to be mostly students, and not tourists, I still saw tourists everywhere. However, I’m still glad I came. And I’m still glad I gave you a second chance. And I will say, your gardens are top notch. I could spend weeks wandering through your gardens. You’ve given me so many ideas for my own garden. I guess that has to be enough.
All photos taken on my Nikon FG-20 with Portra 400. Most of them are available for purchase as prints here.