Pourquoi Paris? Pourquoi Pas?

Photo of Paris from Sacre Coeur, courtesy of Gryffindor

“Why Paris?” It’s a question that I usually answer, “We've always wanted to live there. And now, our eldest grandson is graduating from high school, and he wants to see Paris.”

That's all true, but there's more to the story.

I think my travel dreams were born from a book I read as a child, Round the World with Famous Authors. It was a book of my mother's, and every time I was home from school with a cold or other mild illness, I would ask to see it. Each location was represented with a photo and an excerpt from a published work.  I'm sorry to say that I can't remember which author's piece was featured for Paris, but the combination of the words and the iconic photo of the Eiffel Tower created a strong desire to go there.

Later, in high school, I sent away for a brochure on a Paris summer-school program.  My parents were of modest means and could certainly not afford to send me to Paris. But I looked at the black-and-white photos of other more privileged young people exploring The City of Light, and I daydreamed. I could picture myself standing in front of Notre Dame or scaling the steps of Sacré Coeur.

I held on to that brochure until it was crumpled and torn.

After Kevin and I married, I was delighted to discover that he also wanted to visit Europe, and especially France. On our first trip abroad, we went to Paris. We stayed at a one-star hotel that overlooked a pedestrian street in the Latin Quarter. The room, framed by ancient timbers, was small and unassuming with a worn, pink chenille bedspread. 

On a summer evening, we looked out our hotel window onto the street, while the strains of Simon & Garfunkel's “Sounds of Silence” floated up to us.  Outside, young people were laughing, teasing, and pairing up.  I remember writing in my journal, “I have come to Paris too late, and I am envious of the young.  But it is never really too late to come to Paris, and I am lucky to have my husband and son.” (I was only 34!)

We agreed that trip opened up a whole world for us.  After that, we wanted to live in Europe. Our first preference was Paris, but instead, seven years later we found ourselves in England, for a year that was one of the best of our lives.

It’s been a long time since I looked through my mother's travel book or stared wistfully at that summer-school brochure. But now that we will be spending part of our time in Paris with our grandson, it delights me to see how that old dream has blossomed.

The real question, then, isn't “Why Paris?” The real question is “Why not?”