I’m sure that Neighbours, a cafe with the best banana cake in the world, located right under the place I always stay, has closed. That Maison Plisson now has a kiosk called Petit Plisson, in the Tuileries garden, as I saw it on their website. That the Samaritaine has reopened and is a must visit even for those who don’t want to buy anything because of this surreal exchange.
I also know that the most incredible Baselitz retrospective is playing at Beaubourg. That Damien Hirst is unexpectedly the star of the season at the Cartier Foundation. And that the Quai Branly Museum is not showing anything extraordinary, but that, even so, I will want to rediscover its collection.
Yes, I am getting ready to go to Paris, almost two years after my last visit there. I don’t have a lot of free time to plan my days in the French capital and I’m finding it pretty good!
Of course, I’m worried about two things: the possibility that tourism will shut down again because of the fourth (fifth?) wave of Covid-19 in Europe; and, if I can really travel, what freedom will I have to move around and visit the places I like to go in the city.
But, above all, I’m excited about the possibility of returning to the destination I’ve traveled to most times outside of Brazil. After so long…
I am prepared to find a different city. According to reports from friends, Brazilians and French, who spent the rough period of the pandemic there, Paris is slightly tougher. Or, even, Parisians are slightly more suspicious.
No, I’m not one of those people who think the French don’t like foreigners. It is of the great capitals to drag a certain embarrassment through the streets. Think New York, London, Rome, or even São Paulo. But there are no barriers when you approach Paris in a sympathetic way.
Maybe one day I’ll still pay my tongue for all this benevolence towards Paris. But that contact is what worries me the least about this return — belatedly.
I’ve been dreaming about this visit for months, and at the same time, I’ve been trying to manage the anxiety. When someone asked me which was the first international place I wanted to visit after the worst was over, I would say Bangkok. But it was more by reflex.
The capital of Thailand is always the place I want to go the most, for reasons that, if I ever understand them, I promise to write a column about it. But Paris is the passion, it’s the memories, the loves, simple things like that.
Just to be clear, this is one of the most sophisticated cities in the world. But perhaps this is precisely why the idea that it is capable of offering uncomplicated pleasures escapes many tourists who pass through it.
Some of them I’ve already described in this space: a declaration of love with the Eiffel Tower twinkling at midnight in winter; a wonderful restaurant where an old knife held the window from the high wind; an evening car ride along the Champs-Élysées with a dear aunt.
However, there are many others who are so silly I doubt they will catch your attention: the tradition of seeing a bad movie on January 1st (I promise to come back!); the flirtations at the fair on the Boulevard Richard Lenoir; a ring purchased at Agnès B.; a space “La Bohème” at the Bastille Opera; a window on Boulevard Beaumarchais.
And more: those that I’m still going to collect when I land there on December 17th.
All of this will be part of this passion that confuses me, intoxicates me, inspires me and calms me down. And that, 23 months later, too late, too late, I will find it again. Will be?
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