French Press

How can you not love Paris? After the heat of the southern Spanish sun, the cool autumn days of Paris were particularly refreshing. It never gets old for me to wander the streets, taking in the people, the culture, the "je na se qua" of the Parisian people. They have an air about them, somewhat aloof, always walking with purpose yet never hurrying. And its as if they know this about one another, and like to people-watch just as much as I do. In Spain the cafe seats face into the table, implying social interaction, in France they face out to the street, because they like to watch the Parisian life flow by while they sip a coffee or glass of wine.

There is something stunning about Paris in the fall. The sweltering heat dissipates, and with it the droves of tourists. You can actually walk up to the facade of Notre Dame and stare the gargoyles down without worrying about being in someone's photo. There is just so much flavor in the day to day life of Paris, visiting the boulangerie and the market for delectable picnic meals, exploring the quiet alleys of the Marais, an afternoon "boisson fraiche" while people watching. 

A very Parisian gentleman stops in a cafe for a quick nip on his way home from work. Tucked in the corner of the bar I couldn't help but watch him as he watched the street traffic passing by on the busy sidewalk. The cafe culture of Paris is seductive. Watching the myriad of life as it passes by.

The women of Paris are always dressed to nines, no matter the occasion. And they all walk like supermodels, strutting purposefully across ancient and uneven cobblestones (I would have a broken ankle in under half an hour).

Near the Georges Pompidou Center there were a number of street performers, including a chalk artist, sketching a 20ft. Mona Lisa onto the sidewalk. His hands seemed to have absorbed the chalk into his very pores, as he blended the colors with his bare hands.