Last year I was fortunate enough to spend a few days in Paris as part of a European travel experience. I wasn’t too excited to visit the City of Lights at that time . Though in-love with Paris from a young age (a love cemented by watching movies such as Amelie, Ratatouille, Paris; Je T’aime, and more recently Hugo), I felt it had been oversold by the many travel programmes and tourists who’ve visited the city and cried love.
Adding to this less than anticipated visit, my trip to Paris came after some time spent in Rome and Florence, Italy. This experience was remarkable for two main reasons; one: I found the Italians (and their cities) incredibly loud, dirty, smog-filled and noisy. And secondly, while in Italy I managed to pick up a severe cold and then proceeded to spend twenty-two hours on a bus to Paris, with a really boisterous Italian family in the seats in front of me and a chatty Frenchman beside me (I cried at one point, the Frenchman just ignored it).
Needless to say, when I arrived in Paris I had all but given up on life.
Emerging from the train station into the clear daylight, beautifully manicured gardens and immaculate buildings of central Paris was… magical. Immediately, my illness was forgotten (actually suppressed) and I fell in love with Paris. Truly. Since then, I’ve been plotting my way back there. I hope it will be soon.
For now though, I dream. Old photos of Paris and its inhabitants are particularly beautiful to me.
Enjoy these images from 1963, by Alfred Eisenstaedt. Click to enlarge.