We’ll always have Paris.
© Meredith Mullins

Travel Inspiration in Times of Change

“We’ll always have Paris,” said Humphrey Bogart, melting hearts as he stood on the Casablanca tarmac and said a final goodbye to Ingrid Bergman.

That memorable film line became a metaphor for a cherished time that remains in memory no matter what the future brings. Such a thought seems particularly relevant now . . . in times of COVID.

Those of us who live in Paris—or who seek travel inspiration from the City of Light—take these words literally and metaphorically. We will always have Paris.

As Hemingway said, Paris stays with you.
© Meredith Mullins

We have its history, monuments, artistic pulse, café charms, fine cuisine, lush gardens, haute couture, open markets, cobblestone streets, romantic bridges, and delicate light. The memories are alive.

Visions of Paris stay in our memory.
© Meredith Mullins

But change is one of those life constants. At the moment, for our own health and the safety and health of our fellow humans, we in Paris are in confinement. We are allowed to venture out for one hour a day, and our path is limited within one kilometer of home.

These regulations, now in the seventh week, inspire self-reflection and a change of life rhythms, with almost-daily “Oh, I See” moments.

Two questions rise to prominence.

• What do I miss about Paris during confinement, even though I’m here?
• What new discoveries have I made because I have had to change my way of life?

The magnificence of Paris gardens in years past (Jardins des Bagatelles)
© Meredith Mullins

Five Things I Miss About Paris During Confinement

1. The Arrival of Spring

The confinement orders came just as spring was beginning its burst. No matter what the winter weather, spring always arrives right on schedule at the end of March. Buds open and fill the air with remembrances of past springs. Barren trees become leafy in a visible fast-motion timelapse.

Memories of past springs, with vibrant color in all parts of the city
© Meredith Mullins

This year, the famed Paris gardens and parks were off limits, so my vision of spring was realized with the few blossoming trees or sprouting flowers within my Île Saint-Louis neighborhood.

A purple paulownia peeks through from the closed Square Barye
on the Île Saint-Louis—a reminder that spring is here.
© Meredith Mullins

Still, with so many sunny days in a row, there was no doubt that spring had arrived.

A moment of spring on the west end of the Île Saint-Louis
© Meredith Mullins

2. Music . . . Everywhere

On most days in pre-COVID Paris, I didn’t have to walk far before I heard a musician. The street artists are in the long metro tunnels, under historic arches, and on the romantic bridges.

Musicians are part of the fabric of street life in Paris.
© Meredith Mullins

Now, the streets are silent, except for an occasional balcony musician, decibel-heightened radio, or pianist practicing at home, the sound muffled through the walls.

An echo of muted music
© Meredith Mullins

The world is eerily quiet. Don’t get me wrong, I love the quiet. But the world needs the universal power of music.

Missing music in the streets of Paris
© Meredith Mullins

3. The Cast of Characters

Who would have thought that I would miss the crowded metros and buses of daily life in Paris? But I do.

Could I really be missing the crowded metros and buses?
© Meredith Mullins

The long rides were my time for random thoughts and endless character study. The cast of characters is diverse—every face holds a story.

The fascinating faces of the Paris metro
© Meredith Mullins

Now, I just watch the empty buses zooming by, keeping to their schedules. And, for reasons I can’t quite explain, I try to remember the varied (mostly less than noble) smells of the metro since I haven’t been underground for months.

Bus drivers are well protected on the nearly empty buses.
© Meredith Mullins

4. Café Life

Café life is the heartbeat of Paris. You meet friends. You stop at undiscovered cafés when you’re wandering. You dash in for coffee at a zinc counter or linger at a terrasse table while reading Proust or writing poetry. It’s just what you do.

Café life—the heartbeat of Paris
© Meredith Mullins

Now, I look at the stacked chairs and the closed curtains and wonder  . . . when.

Le Lutetia on the Île Saint-Louis: temporarily closed for business
© Meredith Mullins

5. The Art of the Flâneur

The concept of aimless wandering is a part of Paris culture. Many writers have mentioned its infinite rewards. Getting lost to find new paths and hidden treasures is one of the best ways to explore Paris.

The art of Paris wandering offers endless treasures.
© Meredith Mullins

At the moment, we cannot wander too far. Next week, we will be given more range to roam, but any kind of expedition must still be done with caution, not with full-fledged freedom. It will be a while before the art of the flâneur will return in free-spirited form.

Many undiscovered paths await the flâneur.
© Meredith Mullins

Five Things I Discovered During Confinement

Even living within the one kilometer confinement radius, the world continues to expand. Not just with the tsunami of internet culture, but with the new discoveries on the daily one-hour walk. Little by little, the world presents itself in new ways.

1. Taking the Time to See

I have discovered more about my Île Saint-Louis neighborhood during confinement than I have in the 15 years I have lived here.

Detail at #51 rue St Louis en l’Ile, one of the historic Hôtel Particuliers
© Meredith Mullins

Confinement time warp is a luxury. I have stopped to look at the door carvings, the plaques proclaiming personalities past who lived in this building or that, the historic streets and 400-year-old buildings, and the hidden courtyards and sculptures.

The St Genevieve statue on Pont de la Tournelle (by Paul Landowski, who was also the sculptor of the Rio de Janeiro Christ statue)
© Meredith Mullins

I had walked by these things many times, but I had never really stopped to see.

2. The Rhythms of the Neighborhood

Since I have spent every day at home, I have become more in tune with the rhythms of the neighborhood. I feel like an ancient settler, trying to predict the path of the moon or the movement of the tides by repetitive observation.

The regular rounds of the Republican Guard . . . but now on empty streets
© Meredith Mullins

Now, I know what times of day the Republican Guard clip clops along the island streets. I know when the grocers take their breaks. And I see the empty buses cruising by at the same times each day, since there is nothing to deter their schedule (no traffic and no delays for people climbing aboard).

Our ultra-safe Île Saint-Louis grocer Abdel
© Meredith Mullins

3. The Peace of Empty Streets

The cityscape changes when people are removed from the equation. Now, everything can be seen in its purest form . . . and in solitude.

The quiet of empty streets
© Meredith Mullins

4. Reflections on the Seine

The Seine river has been very quiet. There are few boats, so the surface is calm. The water so clean, you can see bottom.

It seems no one has ever seen the bottom of the Seine before.
It can be done.
© Meredith Mullins

As a result, the reflections dance in a whole new way.

Pont Louis-Philippe: Reflections on the Seine
© Meredith Mullins

5. The Taste of Berthillon

Last, but not least, I admit that I am slightly addicted to Berthillon ice cream, which is a tradition of the Île Saint-Louis. The main Berthillon store has been closed—deemed “nonessential” by the city.

However, last week, a window opened offering Berthillon ice cream cones. It was an odd sign that “normal” might not be too far away.

Berthillon is back! The light at the end of the tunnel.
© Meredith Mullins

To all the OIC Moments readers, stay safe, healthy, and sane. Travel inspiration can come in many forms during these challenging times. And, as you see . . . we’ll always have Paris.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.