Stories of Parisian Life

As France remains in confinement and our community of Paris lovers isolate at home, we’re continuing to share their first-hand experiences of life in Paris under lockdown. Kate reflects on what the city’s nightly clapping sessions have come to mean for its inhabitants in isolation.

As France remains in confinement and our community of Paris lovers isolate at home, we’re continuing to share their first-hand experiences of life in Paris under lockdown. Here’s Cinthia’s story of turning the anxiety and uncertainty gripping the world today into a force for good.

During this strange time, as we limit our interactions and outings in an effort to limit the spread of coronavirus, we’re relating our experiences of the exceptional measures and odd atmosphere gripping Paris in March 2020. Here’s what it was like in Paris in the days before the lockdown.

During this strange time, as we limit our interactions and outings in an effort to limit the spread of coronavirus, we’re relating our experiences of the exceptional measures and odd atmosphere currently gripping Paris. Here’s Kasia’s experience of social distancing and confinement in the City of Light.

“The smell of fresh baguettes and warm crêpes, mingling with exotic spices from every corner of the world, together with the colors of seasonal vegetables contrasting with the bright freesias and orange sunflowers make me feel as though I’m in one of Hemingway’s tales.”

“In the morning it was still there, several inches thick, covering the street, the cars, everything. I wrapped up warm and headed out toward the Eiffel Tower.”

“I’d always dreamed of living in the City of Lights…But how would I be able to make the Pont des Arts mine? I felt like these places were shared by too many people for me to call them home.”

Realizing my dream of coming to Paris opened my eyes to even more possibilities, pushing me to achieve things I thought were impossible. But ‘impossible n’est pas français,’ and it’s certainly not Parisian.

“Dressed in black, I entered through to velvet chairs, to see the lights, the stage, the red curtains opening up to reveal a beautiful silhouette of ballerinas. The orchestra began its musical routine, and the dancers fluttered in the air…”

Home is where the heart is, not where you’re born. And Paris will always have my heart. As a teenager, I fell in love with the feeling Paris gave me, a feeling I was happy to find waiting for me upon my return many years later.

“This life that I had often dreamt about was my present. In all truth, a gift. The future yet unknown, filled with endless possibilities, was waiting in the wings to reveal itself.”

This evening, it is a piece of our collective soul that has gone up in smoke, the backdrop of some of our most-treasured memories. And it is heartbreaking.

It was one of the last days of summer in late August when I first went for a walk in Paris. I don’t recall how I ended up on Rue de Rivoli, next to Palais Royal, but the skies were blue with puffy cotton clouds, and the leaves of the maple trees were pea green – some beginning to burst into a jaunty yellow. I had just had a meal at an Italian restaurant, probably a tourist trap, but what did I know? I remember I thought it was the best meal I had ever had, and it really had been then.