After two weeks in the city, I hate to admit that Paris does not stand out to me as “the city of love.” Parisians don’t smile in public, they’re stone-faced as they walk through the streets, and never speak on the public transportation. Take your lover on an evening walk and you’ll have to pinch her nose when passing the hot, sour sewage smells, and yell “You look lovely tonight!” over the sound of the rumbling motorcycles and angry Parisian drivers. Paris is fun, it’s historic, it’s artistic… but it doesn’t strike me as the most romantic city I could imagine.

And yet, I see love all around Paris. I see the couple on the metro holding their bodies close to the grab-pole, and each other’s bodies even closer. At the cafe table beside me, two young lovers stare deeply into each others’ eyes over half-sipped espressos. An elderly pair heads out of a boulangerie with arms interlinked, strolling through the quiet rainy streets. In a city that often seems gray and cold, these sweet moments of love make Paris shine a bit brighter.

When I pass by little pockets of peace in the city, like the Luxembourg Garden, it becomes clearer to me how love can flourish here.

Although I was disappointed upon discovering the Luxembourg Garden was closed the day I passed by (dangerous wind alerts?), a peek through the gates proved the Garden itself was anything but a let-down. The skies were gray on the day I saw the Garden, but I could imagine exactly how the scene must have looked in Les Miserables: “One day the air was warm, the Luxembourg Gardens were suffused with shade and sunshine, the sky was pure as if the angels had washed it that morning, the sparrows were twittering in the thick of the chestnut trees. Marius had wholly opened his soul to nature, he was not thinking of anything, simply living and breathing” (Hugo 636).

Just looking into the side entrance, I could see the most vibrant, tidy green lawns, neat gravel paths lined with storybook-type trees, and humble wooden benches surrounding an enchanting fountain. Among lawns peppered with pigeons sat happy bunches of colorful flowers and stood elegant, classical sculptures. I tried to just “live and breathe,” in that moment, as Marius did.

No wonder Marius and Cosette first exchanged glances in this magical spot! Looking through the gates of the Garden, I could almost see Cosette and Jean Valjean sitting peacefully on a bench as Marius saunters by:

“She said to Jean Valjean, ‘How delightful this Luxembourg Garden is!’ Marius and Cosette appeared to each other as if in the dark. They did not speak to each other, they did not greet each other, they did not know each other. And like the stars of heaven, millions of miles apart, they existed by gazing at each other” (Hugo, 808).

What an ideal setting for a romance! How might I have felt as Cosette, taking in the beautiful Garden, and then catching Marius’ eye? I imagine, in the silence of the exchange, the intense heat traveling to her cheeks, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, butterflies in her stomach. That glimpse must have utterly disturbed the serenity of the Garden! With just one simple yet impassioned glance– pluck out all the flowers from the lawns! Watch the sculptures come alive and jump into the fountains! Belt among a choir of birds in the trees! Explode the sky with fireworks! And then… be pulled back to earth with the sound of Jean Valjean’s voice.

The Luxembourg Garden is all that I could have imagined it to be. The setting is just as I pictured it while reading Les Miserables (just a bit cloudier and windier that day). How sweet those interactions must have been between the two young lovers, in such a darling garden.

On my metro ride home from the Garden, I watch as a man reaches for his lover’s hand. She slips her fingers into his and rests her head on his shoulder, and the metro hums along through the tunnel. As I watch this interaction, I wonder if the Metro Man has the same feeling Marius felt when he first met with Cosette– the passion, the pure bliss of being in the presence of one adored, the feeling of the rest of the world melting away… I don’t know the Metro Man or his lover, but for my own delight on that ride home, I imagine that they feel the same innocent magic that lived between Marius and Cosette.

Being able to enjoy, from a distance, these little moments of love among the people of Paris is a delight for me. Paris is not my “city of love,” and I’m comfortable with that. While I don’t find this the ideal place for a romance, I can appreciate how others might. The city is full of romantic, mysterious, intimate pockets of peace that can be just the right places to spark feelings or initiate special glances. Observing such sweet human interactions and imagining the relationships of Les Miserables in characters of the present is part of the excitement for me. Not only do these wonderful moments of the book come alive when I “bookpack,” but Paris itself becomes more magical to experience.