The rooftops of Paris, taken from Montmartre

There are rules in Paris. Rules for everything – be polite but definitely not too polite, be quiet, never wear sweatpants out, make sure your makeup is done by your 8am Metro, ‘faire la bise’ [the peck on each cheek as a greeting], don’t have dinner before 8pm, don’t sit on the grass, and never, ever, make eye contact in the streets. The Parisians have a certain grace about them; they are soft-spoken, gentle until aggravated, and completely in love with their city. There is a certain artform in being a Parisian. ‘Flâneurs’ at heart, the Parisians are never in too much of a rush, never stressed, never without a cigarette, and never not basking in the beauty of their home turf.

A Londoner through and through, I am used to a very different font of city. My city is all about rush, all about complaining, all about getting from A to B quickly. In London, I smile as I pass someone by on the street, I laugh loudly on the tube, I eat when I want and I wear whatever I want. In London most conversations begin with a complaint – ‘the weather is just awful today – there are too many tourists in the summer – the traffic is such a drag.’ This is bog-standard London; we really like to complain.

To me, London is a melting pot; my family are German, my left-side neighbours are Italian, the right -American. My school was sprinkled with different languages, different opinions, different people. My first boyfriend was Swedish, and my best friend was Russian. And yet, we were all Londoners at heart.

Paris is different. Rather than a melting pot, I’d call Paris more of a salad bowl. There are lots of different people here but they’re very much separate. The system of Arrondissements does a good job in keeping it this way. My understanding of the various neighborhoods is as follows: the first and second are for the extremely wealthy to live and the tourists to visit. The third and fourth – ‘Le Marais’ – is for the younger people, full of bustling bars and cute shops; it is also known as the Jewish quarter, as well as the largest LGBT area of Paris. The fifth is the Latin quarter, the sixth is home to the existentialists. The eighth is the sanctuary of the fashion houses, the chicest shopping streets, and luxury hotels. The sixteenth is perhaps the most residential area, and where I am currently staying. It is a far more homely than the other areas I have mentioned, full of little playgrounds and vast apartment blocks. There are some nice restaurants, but the scene is mainly older and far more expensive. That was a very brief run-down of the city, but I think it serves to show something about Paris. Here, they like to keep things separate.

While I have lived in Paris, I never became Parisian. Not for lack of trying, I did everything I was told to do, but I am not from Paris and so I can never be. Edmund White writes about the ‘Flâneur’ and what it means to be Parisian and as I walk around the city I can see everything he wrote come to life. Intriguingly, he explains that Paris is ‘a mild hell so comfortable that it resembles heaven… The French have such an attractive civilization… that the foreigner is quickly seduced into believing that if he can only become a Parisian he will at last master the art of living.’ There is something uniquely beautiful and romantic in the idea of Paris. Paris is a dream, an aspiration. Paris is love, elegance, beauty and history, Paris is its monuments, its people, its food. And yet, to me, Paris is often unfriendly and cold and hard to become part of.

Something I have noticed is that Paris doesn’t change with the rest of the world. My mother lived here from 1990- 2001; 19 years later , I moved here. When she came to settle me in, she took me to all the same restaurants she loved at my age, and almost every time she would exclaim in pure joy: ‘Ah the menu never changes!’ Unlike her, I like change, I like watching the cities I love change. London is constantly changing; I leave for a semester in LA to come back and find everything different. My favorite coffee shop replaced by my new favourite nail salon, my favourite restaurant has become a cool new thrift shop and so on… Change is exciting!

As I reflect on this I realize that maybe it is my mind-set that has to change. I have a love-hate relationship with this city. Having lived here during the year of lockdown, I am used to a very different Paris than the one we get to explore during these three weeks. For me, Paris meant strict regimes, armed policemen, and curfew. It still feels wrong every time I walk out of my apartment and into shops, cafes, and bars. Gatherings were strictly ‘Interdit’ [forbidden] and here we are, a group of 17 walking around the now densely populated streets. The fact that we can saunter in and out of galleries and museums, take the metro, drink a coffee, and have a baguette in a café and really enjoy ourselves still feels so new to me here. And yet – Paris has changed! In the aftermath of the Covid years, things are different, and it’s exciting!

Maybe I will never be Parisian, but that does not mean I cannot love this city. I have realized over the last week how so much of my perception of Paris is based on a time where nothing was as it should be. My idea of Paris is polluted with the Covid years. There is so much to love here, and yes – it is different to what I know, it is nothing like London. But there is beauty in that too, and if I cannot see that then I am just as bad as the Paris I was criticizing.