Our House is Definitely Not in Paris (2 page)

Everyone falls in love with the City of Lights the first time they glimpse it. And then again and again, if they are lucky enough to return. Paris has a magic, a charm, that is all its own. It is a city beyond compare. How to capture its essence? That has been the quest of artists, designers and writers for centuries. The very boulevards resonate with a palpable air of
chic
elegance. The joy of Paris lies in the random discoveries; the strolling down
petite
cobblestone streets that provide a heartbeat glimpse into other lives: the back view of an immaculate French woman disappearing round a corner, her trotting,
coiffed
poodle the perfect accessory; the quintessential young French lovers entwined on the banks of the Seine; the beribboned boxes of
chocolat
and the tantalising mounds of pastel-hued
macarons
. It is the soaring buildings, decorated with gargoyles that have been witness to revolutions and war, the golden light that glows upon them as the day closes. These and more are the moments you reflect on after a Parisian
sojourn
.

We fall upon our first
espresso
and almond
croissant
with sighs of rapture on our first morning, and breathe in the heady aroma of newly baked
baguettes
. To be in Paris once in a lifetime is wonderful; to return is to be blessed with a sense of beloved reunion. We discover one of the famous Passages — Passage des Panaramas — where we sit elbow to elbow with our fellow diners, at the most
petite
of tables imaginable in the heart of all that is Paris. We savour our melt-in-the-mouth
bœuf bourguignon
and
crème brûlée
, and all the while the fashionable and elegant saunter past us. The artful insouciance of Parisians reflects their
bien élevé
, an unmatched air of well-bred, graceful stylishness.

The historic shopping arcades are either quirky and run-down, or magnificently restored and brimming with
chic
boutiques. They are maze-like and full of secret entrances; you could lose yourself in them for days, gazing at the glorious
chocalatiers
,
boulangeries
and simply stepping back in time in the labyrinth of passages that date from the eighteenth century. For us, Paris is all about meandering, wandering, exploring. It is a feast in every conceivable way, not just culinary. It is the unexpected turn in a corner that makes you gasp when you peep inside a courtyard in the heart of Paris — the pots of scarlet geraniums, the bike with its wicker pannier propped against a golden stone wall, the cat basking in the flickers of sunlight. It is the old and the new, the modern and the ancient, the juxtaposition and how it all blends seamlessly together to create a city like no other.

The Splendour of Paris

The delights of summer

While an apartment in Paris is precisely that, and so like no other in the world, it was nevertheless not quite the one of our dreams. It was, in fact, the site of a
grande rénovation
. Now, why shouldn't that have surprised me? After all, is our life not one huge construction site? We renovate at home; we renovate in France. In fact, even when I spent a year living in Istanbul, the year Stuart and I met and married on the banks of the Bosphorous, my flat was on a building site. When I got a job teaching English for a year in a private school, before my departure, I imagined the windows of my Turkish flat would overlook a bustling, lively market that I would slip out to for warm pide bread for my breakfast and Turkish delight in the evening. There would be minarets on the horizon, the call of the muezzin, winding streets full of culture and history.
Non
. It was a building site in the suburbs far from any
cafés
or exquisite
cuisine
. And so it would seem to be the case, several decades later, in Paris.

The surreal adventure starts on arrival. First, I gasp in horror when the
concierge
ushers us into a
petite
lift the size of a small suitcase. I step back in alarm and simply refuse to get in. Naturally, Stuart bravely ascends, carrying his luggage, despite the shock of the miniscule lift. Part of my mind is registering how very French movie-like it all is. Have we not all seen the films? The heavy wooden door leading in from the
boulevard
, the courtyard, the
concierge
whose door bell you ring,

Apart from Paris, it is food people's minds turn to when they head for France. French
cuisine
is esteemed more highly than any other in the world. It is no wonder that France is the
premier
tourist destination for travellers the world over. Metaphorically, belts are already loosened when people board the plane, ready for the gastronomic delights that lie in wait. They are not the only things in wait, so to speak … the scales are sure to tip on any traveller's return home. Temptation lures the tourist round every corner. It is simply impossible to resist.

Just before we leave, I read that delicate, light-as-clouds
choux
pastry puffs have overtaken
macarons
in the
pâtisserie
stakes. That is a fact I am determined to store in my memory bank of not-to-be missed delectable treats.
Choux
pastry is filled with every flavour imaginable, from the classic lemon, caramel and chocolate, to exotic combinations such as cherry, pistachio and strawberry. They have become so popular in the competitive
pâtisserie
tug-of-war that some even have a
choux du jour,
with the filling changing each day.

Once again in the months prior to our departure, the weekend papers are full of features about France. As Paris is the most popular destination when thoughts turn to travel, it is no wonder that France is so frequently highlighted. As always, I greedily devour every article, not the least the ones about the famed
cuisine.
I am again reminded that at home in Australia, food is not by any means the focus of my life. Step foot in France, though, and everything changes.

I positively pounce upon a two-page spread that extols the most outstanding
cafés,
boulangeries
and
pâtisseries
in Paris. Now this is my sort of tourist guide. I plot and plan how many I can possibly visit. Another almond
croissant
from one of the many famous Jewish bakers in the Marais district, such as Sacha Finklesztajn? Why not? I can already taste it — its rich, buttery, melt-in-the-mouth flakes positively oozing with almond lusciousness. Surely a few hours exploring the charming streets of Paris will more than offset one indulgent plump
croissant
before choosing one of the myriad of charismatic
cafés
to settle in for a leisurely
déjeuner
? There is, of course, a fine distinction between provincial fare and Parisian
cuisine
. Country treats will be waiting in abundance in our
département — canard
in all its many succulent varieties; walnuts creatively incorporated in many dishes and, of course, the rich, much-maligned
foie gras
.

Across the oceans and continents and time-zones, my taste buds are already tingling in avid anticipation. I let my gaze linger over every word as I devour descriptions of the culinary delights that await — just as surely as my lips will linger over every luscious mouthful. Now, what time is it again that the famed
boulangeries
of Paris open?

I'm torn long before arrival over the well-remembered pleasure that the
magnifique,
brightly coloured
macarons
unfailingly provide. Or, trying for the first time, a famous
mille-feuille
, perhaps from Ladurée, possibly the most esteemed
pâtisserie
in Paris. The very thought of a
mille-feuille,
with its fine-as-air, wafer-thin layers of pastry and layers of
crème,
is enough to make me almost book an earlier flight.

While I bake at home in Australia (though never in my French life, for even without the demands of
rénovée,
why would I when the
pâtisseries
are so superb?) I will never aspire to be a pastry chef in Paris. They wake at 2am, when even the stars are still dreaming. I am more than content to wait quite a few hours longer to sample the wares of their dedication and devotion. In my moments of relaxation, I even find myself idly browsing
pâtisseries
in Paris on the internet.

In Paris, there are narrow, crooked lanes to discover; there are broad, plane tree-lined boulevards; there are splendid
jardins
; there are breathtaking monuments and
grande
buildings. It is a city for strolling, for pausing, for savouring, in every possible sense. It is a city for losing yourself in reverie and dreams. Paris is a city for slowing down, for stopping. For taking the time to venture into a
petite
handkerchief park; to simply sit on a stone bench, watching the pigeons flutter and take flight; watching the rest of the Parisian world saunter by. Parisians never hurry or rush; they know the meaning of soaking up all that is glorious in one of the most wonderful cities in the world. It is not just the tempting aroma of fresh
pain
wafting from
boulangeries
and the sugar-scented clouds from
pâtisseries
that sets your senses aquiver; it is also the delicate enveloping fragrances that float from the perfumeries and wrap you in an exotic cloak. The place abounds in endless delights of every sort imaginable. Saunter round a corner and a whole vista of possibilities awaits: gardens, memorials, fountains, statues, a
chic
boutique,
café
or
boulangerie
. Centuries of history are woven into everyday life.

Simply to be in Paris makes you tingle with joy and heady with euphoria. The very essence of Paris seeps from the ancient cobblestones themselves and fills you with elation; a sense of all that is
magnifique
in life. To breathe the very air is to truly feel overflowing with happiness.

French
cuisine
is all about cooking with respect for the food being prepared — using the freshest locally produced ingredients and pouring love into the food you are cooking. As well as dining out, shopping for food with Stuart is one of my favourite French activities.

A significant bonus is when you ask for things in multiple; you don't have to know their gender. I do know enough by now to be aware that French nouns are divided into two categories: masculine and feminine. However, to complicate matters even further, there is no real relationship between a noun's meaning and its gender. It all apparently depends on knowing whether to add
la
or
le
before a word.This is a distinction I am most unlikely to ever grasp.

Zut alors
. No wonder I still stumble like a
petite enfant
just starting at
école
. I remain as confused as ever by the perplexities of French, and find out that there are subtle differences between
une
and
un
. I decide the best way to navigate such linguistic tricks is to ask for at least
deux
, two, while shopping in French markets.
Voilà
, it's simple after all.

The
baguette
is as much revered by the French as my own love affair with them. The first time I had a
baguette
, still warm from the
boulangerie
, is something I will never forget. I can simply never get over the fact that the French eat so well every day. Most of all, the enduring veneration of food is evident in every town you visit.
Pâtisseries
,
boulangeries
, fresh markets. The feast spread before you fills every sense; the sights, the smells, the sound of the marketplace, and then the exquisite taste and texture of the food.