Paris, an intimate look.
When Chris and I first started blogging it was to encourage and inspire our friends and peers to get out and explore our beautiful world. We strive to keep the wonder and excitement from our travels in all of our posts. Sometimes we feel as if we are doing a disservice by posting our true feelings about a certain destination, offering up our opinions to those that haven’t been able to form their own. There are times, however, when we want to share our innermost thoughts regardless.
It is with this in mind that we have decided to share a few of our journal entries. Collections from over the years. What better way to start than with one of our latest. In posting this we are letting you see an intimate piece of us. This isn’t the quirky duo “Captain and Clark” telling you about how wonderful a place is. This is Chris and Tawny sharing their personal journals with you.
Wednesday. March 20, 2013.
The Paris of the 1920’s is dead. Hemmingway spoke of Paris as a “moveable feast” that a young man could carry with him in his soul. Tawny and I did not encounter that face of “the city of lights”.
The Paris of today feels more like a mausoleum. The catacombs, the tombs, the gray streets, they are like a sepia toned photograph of a long ago party. At night the streets lie empty. Only the sparkle of the Eiffel Tower and the halogen whir of well-lit monuments keep watch over the city.
The wild hunger and impoverished artists have long ago left Paris. Now it is but a glamorous crypt for the poets and rockstars of a time before our own.
I don’t know where the new Paris is, where the new hub for the passionate and the poor lies. Where today, do the constant creators, artists, and voices of our time sit and drink with each other ’til dawn? In eighty years where will we erect our monuments to the bright stars of our age?
For us, the search continues.
I will always remember the elegant lines of Paris and the gilded statues. I will remember fondly the curve of the river, and the bend of the parks. For me, Paris is an eloquent whisper of a time remembered.
So what do you think? Has Paris changed over the years? What should we do differently the next time we’re there?