I love how Parisian street signs look...
There's a part in Amelie in which the café owner outlines the recipe for true love (I paraphrase): you take two normal people and put them in the same place for a while. In the movie, Amelie goes on to do just that, hooking up the psychotic stalker guy and the hypochondriac tobacconist, who up until that point had hardly noticed each other.
I'm not that cynical, of course, but the phenomenon of people becoming fiercely loyal to people, places, and things that they just happen to be in proximity to is undeniable. I was thinking about it today when I was walking back from my hike to the Eiffel Tower; I arrived at the Ile St. Louis and I felt happy, not just to be back to my apartment but because I've already developed a strong sense of ownership and affection for this funny little lump of rock in the middle of the Seine. For me, for the rest of my life, when I reflect back on my first time living in France, I'll probably always be nostalgic for the island. And here's the thing: it's not that great. It's covered in tourists all the time. I have to walk 25 minutes to get to a real supermarket. It has no metro stop. It is, however, beautiful and fun and goofy, and the fact that I randomly ended up here was more than enough to inspire these feelings of loyalty.
It reminds me again of that This American Life episode I mentioned, with Ira Glass and David Sedaris wandering around Paris. What Ira Glass ends up finding out as he interviews various American Francophiles is that they're all fundamentally nostalgic for France; they may well love things about France-in-general, but their feelings are ultimately predicated on remembering years spent there as children or students, family connections, or even just French stuff they fixated on as kids. This is definitely the case of the American Francophiles I know personally; they cherish their memories of a France they knew when they were younger; their love of France is embedded in those memories.
My point is that I think we're all lovers of opportunity; when opportunity presents itself, we fall in love. Naturally, it only works if the object of our affections has enough substance to reciprocate in some way (I defy anyone to fall in love with Norwich, England), which France certainly does. It's still a funny little piece of psychology, marveling over the pretty things we coincidentally run into.
I'm not that cynical, of course, but the phenomenon of people becoming fiercely loyal to people, places, and things that they just happen to be in proximity to is undeniable. I was thinking about it today when I was walking back from my hike to the Eiffel Tower; I arrived at the Ile St. Louis and I felt happy, not just to be back to my apartment but because I've already developed a strong sense of ownership and affection for this funny little lump of rock in the middle of the Seine. For me, for the rest of my life, when I reflect back on my first time living in France, I'll probably always be nostalgic for the island. And here's the thing: it's not that great. It's covered in tourists all the time. I have to walk 25 minutes to get to a real supermarket. It has no metro stop. It is, however, beautiful and fun and goofy, and the fact that I randomly ended up here was more than enough to inspire these feelings of loyalty.
It reminds me again of that This American Life episode I mentioned, with Ira Glass and David Sedaris wandering around Paris. What Ira Glass ends up finding out as he interviews various American Francophiles is that they're all fundamentally nostalgic for France; they may well love things about France-in-general, but their feelings are ultimately predicated on remembering years spent there as children or students, family connections, or even just French stuff they fixated on as kids. This is definitely the case of the American Francophiles I know personally; they cherish their memories of a France they knew when they were younger; their love of France is embedded in those memories.
My point is that I think we're all lovers of opportunity; when opportunity presents itself, we fall in love. Naturally, it only works if the object of our affections has enough substance to reciprocate in some way (I defy anyone to fall in love with Norwich, England), which France certainly does. It's still a funny little piece of psychology, marveling over the pretty things we coincidentally run into.
2 comments:
um...your "first time" living in france...? i never agreed to you making a habit of this...not unless pesto and i are invited along next time.......
I agree with your comments. I have a nostalgic feeling for the little corners of Paris where I lived oh so long ago. And also for "my" little village in Burgundy.
I have confidence that B will have a similar experience, so that the "next time" everyone can develop a deeper affection for Paris.
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