Oct

The Paris Wall of Love

by Meredith Mullins on October 16, 2017

The many ways to say “I Love You”
© Meredith Mullins

How To Say I Love You?
Let Us Count the Ways

Te amo . . . Sarang Hae (사랑해) . . . Nagligivagit . . . Ég elska pig . . . S’agapo . . . Mina rakastan sinua . . . Phom rak khun . . . Aishiteru (愛してる) . . . Je t’aime . . . Ya tebe kohayu . . . Rwy’n dy garu di . . . Ani ohev otach . . . Ik hou van je . . . Nakupenda . . . Wo ai ni (我爱你)

What does this parade of phrases have in common?

They are all ways to say “I love you”— language gems that are important in today’s world of far too much disaster, violence, mistrust, and hate.

What else do these terms of endearment have in common? They are all words that appear on the Wall of Love in Paris.

Can you guess the languages? (See the key at the end of this story for the answers.)

How to say I love you with love locks on the Paris Post des Arts, another way to say I love you from the Wall of Love. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

The glint of metal says “I love you” . . . but there are other ways.
© Meredith Mullins

Saying “I Love You” in the City of Love

Paris is a romantic city. In fact, along with its classic moniker (“City of Light”), it has earned the perhaps coveted title of “City of Love.” (What city wouldn’t want to be the center of love?)

From the thousands of love locks that once glinted on so many of the iconic bridges to romantic trysts on park benches tucked away in garden corners to passionate tango dancing by the Seine, Paris lives and breathes romance.

The Wall of Love (Mur des Je t’aime) is a more hidden tribute—nestled in the Square Jehan Rictus near the Place des Abbesses in Montmartre.

The Wall of Love in Montmartre Paris, showing us many ways to say I love you. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

A secret Montmartre garden with a treasured wall
© Meredith Mullins

The 40-square-meter, blue-tiled wall watches over the greenery of the peaceful park and the locals who choose to sit amidst the quiet.

The wall attracts visitors, lovers, (and selfie addicts) from around the world who either stumble upon it or have heard about this creative treasure and have come in the name of love.

The work is the brainchild of artist Frédéric Baron, a lover of travel, language, and romance. The dream emerged in 1992 as he collected simple statements of “I love you” from his family and neighbors, all from different cultures. Each person wrote his or her “I love you” words on a single page of a notebook.

Bengali way to say I love you from the notebook of the Wall of Love by Frédéric Baron. (Image © Fredéric Baron.)

A Bengali “I love you” from Frédéric Baron’s notebook.
© Frédéric Baron from the Book of “I Love You’s”

As the project grew, Frédéric found more neighbors and friends from different countries, and finally began knocking on embassy doors to explain his vision and collect the rarest of the languages.

“It was a way to go around the world without leaving Paris and its suburbs,” Frédéric noted.

The result was three notebooks filled with more than 1000 ways to say “I love you” in more than 300 languages.

Arabic way to say I love you from the notebook of the Wall of Love by Frédéric Baron. (Image © Fredéric Baron.)

An Arabic “I love you” from Frédéric Baron’s notebook.
© Frédéric Baron from the Book of “I Love You’s”

Frédéric and Claire Kito, an artist and practitioner of oriental calligraphy, collaborated to create the wall in the year 2000, with production assistance from Daniel Boulogne.

The wall is built with 612 enameled lava tiles, reminiscent of the pages of the notebooks. The 311 “I love you” phrases are expressed in 250 languages and dialects— all in white lettering in varying calligraphic styles.

In a 1999 interview, Claire explained that, in Chinese calligraphy, “the hand is guided by the heart.” She wanted to respect the spirit of the person who wrote the words. She wanted to preserve the rhythms and graphic quality of the original writing.

The Paris Wall of Love in Montmartre, showing ways to say I love you in many languages. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

Can you find the languages you know amidst the reflections off the shiny lava tiles?
© Meredith Mullins

All the languages of the United Nations are present, as well as languages such as Inuit, Navajo, Bambara (from Mali), Bislama (from Vanuatu), Dzongkha (from Bhutan), and Esperanto . . . to name a few of the lesser known languages.

Interspersed across the blue tiles are fragments of red, which, if brought together, form a heart. The artists intend the wall to be a healing force of love for the too often broken heart of humanity.

Part of the Wall of Love in Montmartre Paris, showing many ways to say I love you in different languages. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

T’estimo . . . Catalan for “I love you”
© Meredith Mullins

Why Build A Wall?

There were as many ways to express this creative concept as there are ways to say “I love you.”

For Frédéric and Claire, the wall was not meant to be the usual symbol of division and separation. It was a way to reunite the world, through the languages of love—a symbol of reconciliation and peace.

Part of the Paris Wall of Love in Montmartre Paris, showing many ways to say I love you in many different languages. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

Can you spot the Zulu word for “I love you”?
© Meredith Mullins

The “Oh I See” Hope: Love Will Triumph

As visitors look at the Wall of Love—with so many cultures, countries, races, lives, and languages united in saying “I love you”— a feeling of hope is inevitable.

The Wall of Love is meant to spread this hope . . . and love — “to erase borders and open hearts,” as Frédéric says.

A worthy dream.

Part of the Paris Wall of Love in Montmartre Paris, showing many ways to say I love you in different languages. (© Meredith Mullins.)

Can you find “Ek het jou lief”? And can you guess the language?
© Meredith Mullins

For a free download of Frédéric Baron’s book of “I Love You’s,” click here.

To see more of Frédéric’s work, go to this site.

For more information about the Paris Love Locks, see this OIC Story.

Answer Key: Spanish, Korean, Inuit, Icelandic, Greek, Finnish, Thai, Japanese, French, Ukranian, Welsh, Hebrew, Dutch, Swahili, Mandarin, (and for the last image—Afrikaans).

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

Meredith Mullins 2 Comments

France (Paris)/Language & Culture/The World's Art & Design

Oct

What’s in Your Suitcase?

by Joyce McGreevy on October 9, 2017

A souvenir store in Budapest, Hungary leads a writer to seek the locus of travel inspiration and other aha moments. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Souvenir stores straddle the border between “this place” and “any place.”
© Joyce McGreevy

Collected Travel Inspiration,
With & Without Souvenirs

Souvenirs—talismans of travel inspiration, mere trinkets, or trash? Can they inspire aha moments or only memorialize them?

The very word is a souvenir of 18th century French—from souvenir “to remember.” But I like the ancient Latin even better. Subvenire, “to come up from below,” tips its hat to the subconscious. It makes me think of opening old boxes in a basement and finding forgotten treasure, some silly, small item of no value. And yet . . .

Lost Souvenirs

My first souvenir? Petite plastic dolls from a Paris flea market. In the 1960s, my sister Carolyn and I splurged all our pocket money on them, one franc each. Ah, but that included “tous les meubles!”—all the furniture. Our dollhouse was a cupboard in our hotel, itself a souvenir of La Belle Époque.

A dollhouse in a store window in Sofia, Bulgaria leads a writer to ponder the travel inspiration we find in souvenirs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A dollhouse in a store window in Sofia, Bulgaria.
© Joyce

They’re long gone now—dolls, furniture, the hotel, too. But my flea-market mind maintains a little shrine for them.

The first recorded use of souvenir as a token of remembrance occurred in 1782. One dictionary after another presents this tidbit but omits the actual example. It’s like finding a silver lid minus the vessel. Souvenirs are like that—parts that can only hint at the whole.

Today, few people admit to souvenir-collecting. Marketing reports attest that travelers spend more on sightseeing than on shopping, souvenirs, and nightlife combined. Yet souvenir shops do booming business around the globe.

It’s Only Natural?

Early souvenir hunters “preserved” the past by breaking off bits of it. In the 1800s, visitors to Plymouth Rock were even provided with hammers.

An 1850 souvenir of Plymouth Rock leads a writer to ponder the downside of souvenirs and the true locus of travel inspiration. (Public domain image, National Museum of American History)

A chip off the old block? Some souvenirs proved too popular.
Plymouth Rock Fragment by National Museum of American History, CC BY 4.0

Can the quest for remembrances make us forgetful? Recently, a mother and daughter from Virginia mailed back “souvenirs” to Iceland—a stone and a bag of sand they’d collected from the black volcanic beaches of Reynisfjara.

Back home, they learned that Icelandic law strictly forbids such souvenir collecting. The tourism board accepted their apology and promised to return the items to their natural setting.

Practical Souvenirs

A friend of mine collects “shoe-venirs” when she travels. Every walk she takes begins in lands she has loved.

A chef I know collects household objects—a moka pot from Milan, spices from Moroccan souks. They link his American kitchen to kitchens around the world.

I like how these souvenirs, modern cousins to ancient vessels and vestments, are connected to daily rituals.

Ancient gold jewelry in the Benaki Museum, Athens, Greece inspires an aha moment about their connection to ordinary souvenirs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Charms of another age, at the Benaki Museum, Athens.
© Joyce McGreevy

Post-travel Souvenirs

One January, after returning from verdant Maui to snowbound Chicago, I saw melancholy sidle up to me. An aha moment intervened. I collected post-travel souvenirs: thrift store décor; Hawaiian-themed groceries; traditional island music. I adore Chicago, but Chicago-infused-with-Maui did wonders for my psyche that winter.

Garden objects in Maui lead a writer to ponder the reasons we find travel inspiration in souvenirs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Objects catch our eye, but it’s the context that we crave.
© Joyce McGreevy

Ephemeral Souvenirs

Even minimalists-to-the-max collect souvenir ephemera. It’s scientific fact. Just as magnets attract iron filings, humans attract paper: playbills from Piccadilly, coasters from Costa Rica, a café napkin from Nantes.

One day, you rediscover it—the train ticket turned bookmark. Suddenly, you’re traveling again, backtracking along the past, or pressing your nose against a window onto the future.

A collage made of travel ephemera on an office wall in Chicago leads a writer to ponder ways people find travel inspiration in souvenirs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Travel ephemera on an office wall in Evanston, Illinois.
© Joyce McGreevy

Whimsical Souvenirs

Now comes the parade of fringed pillows, ceramic caricatures, and other tchotchkes. Brazenly they shout out where you’ve been: Niagara Falls 1978! I heart Twickenham! Gibraltar ROCKS My World!

All hail souvenirs that sport the name Souvenir. If that Souvenir of Venice tea-towel were a person, it would stand arms akimbo and declare, “Yeah, pal, that’s right, I’m a Souvenir. What’s it to ya?”

Mass-produced pillows in California lead a writer to ponder why people find travel inspiration in souvenirs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Southwestern “souvenirs” for sale—in a California suburb.
© Joyce McGreevy

“Elsewhere” Souvenirs

But what of provenance? During my youth in Ireland, the more stereotypical the souvenir, the likelier it was to be stamped An tSeapain tir adheanta—“Made in Japan.” Who made the faux French dolls my sister and I played with? Where did they live? What were their lives like? Souvenirs keep secrets.

Twilight in Baltimore, Co. Cork, Ireland leads a writer to compare the travel inspiration of souvenirs vs. experiences. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A moment made in Ireland.
© Joyce McGreevy

Elusive Souvenirs

The day I left Budapest, I passed between souvenir stores. Innumerable wares glinted in the sunlight like autumn leaves. As a single-suitcase traveler, I pretend I’m “immune to the stuff.” But the ache of departure made me gluttonous with desire, as if travel inspiration were something to consume: I wanted the “all” of Budapest.

Oh, I see moment: Maybe that’s what travel souvenirs represent—a longing to live multiple lives in myriad places, in times that never have to end.

Empty-handed, heart full, I boarded the train and said goodbye to Budapest.

Now then, what’s in your suitcase?

See souvenirs so quirky they seem satirical, here.

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

Joyce McGreevy Comments

Cultural Symbols/Life Lessons/Worldwide Sites/Your Own Aha Moments

Oct

Budapest, Fast and Slow

by Joyce McGreevy on October 2, 2017

You can race through Budapest at a gallop, but you’ll notice more at a gentle pace.
© Joyce McGreevy

Hungarian Travel Tips in Two Tempos

I’m lingering at a bisztro in Budapest’s Jewish Quarter, savoring every bite of cholent. It’s an Ashkenazi slow-and-low cooked casserole. Guests keep arriving in waves. So, when the waiter approaches, I assume it’s to drop the bill and hasten me on my way.

Instead, he recommends flodni, a 20-ingredient stuffed wonder he airily summarizes as a “light pastry.” Or perhaps another glass of rozé?

“Jaj! Most kell dolgoznum,” I sigh. “Alas, I must work now.” Back in Chicago, the workday’s in high gear. As a digital nomad, I’ve got a manuscript to deliver.

A patron and pianist at Spinoza Café, where the best travel tip is to savor the Budapest experience. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Meanwhile, the piano man asks, “Szeretsz énekelni?” “Would you like to sing?” As a newbie to Hungarian, what I hear is, “Would you like to hear music?”

In English I request, “Anything by Liszt, please.” Which apparently sounds like, “Anything by Elvis Presley.” Soon, the piano man and I are harmonizing—bilingually—on “Fools Rush In.”

Welcome to Budapest, fast and slow.

Savoring Budapest

Like flodni, Budapest comprises layers. The name alone combines three places, Buda, Obuda, and Pest—oh, my! For travelers on tight schedules, it’s tempting to gobble up Budapest in quick bites.

But like Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2, exploring Budapest ranges between two tempos, fast and slow. “Budafast” can be fun, but slow down occasionally to experience “Budabest.” Here are my travel tips for experiencing “Oh, I see” moments.

A boat on the Danube inspires a travel tip: savor every moment of Budapest "fast and slow." Image © Joyce McGreevy

Researching Budapest

Fast: Top 10 lists promise to make travel easy. But “sticking to the list” can make travel exhausting and rob it of context.

Slow: Wade into Hungarian history and literature, from Antal Szerb’s enchanting A Martian’s Guide to Budapest, to Kati Marton’s harrowing Enemies of the People. Afterward, details will shimmer with significance: a plaque on a doorway, an architectural flourish, a name on a street sign.

You’ll imagine, as if remembering, events that impacted this magnificent survivor of a city. You’ll recall, though you never met them, people who lived and breathed in Budapest as you do now. You’ll feel your heart, blossoming and breaking, as your mind engages with this extraordinary place.

Books at Magvető Kiadó inspire a travel tip: Discover the best of Hungarian literature in Budapest. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Walking around

Fast: Many visitors keep to the thronged main boulevards. But the day-to-day magic of Budapest unfolds along its side streets.

Slow: Wandering is safe and will reveal hidden gardens, architectural gems, historic landmarks, and quiet cafés.

A mosaic on a primary school at 85 Dob utca, Budapest, Hungary inspires a travel tip: notice the details. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Getting Coffee

Fast: Grab your usual “to go,” if clutching a paper bucket of hot liquid while racing from place to place is what suits you.

Slow: While away the hours in cafés. Power down your laptop, retrieve that handwritten novel-in-progress, and live the tradition. In the 1900s, the most palatial cafés nurtured poets with steeply discounted “writers’ menus” and free paper and ink.

What WWII didn’t destroy, harsh regimes shut down. As gathering places, kávéházak were considered threats to rigid social control. Today, many Budapest classics have been gloriously restored, and recent additions pulse with new literary life.

A woman writing at Zsivago Café inspires a travel tip: savor the café culture in Budapest, Hungary. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Budapest’s New York Café is spectacular, but don’t miss quieter venues like Zsivago (above)
and Urania Nemzeti Filmszínház (bottom).
© Joyce McGreevy

Urania Nemzeti Filmszínház inspires a travel tip: savor the café culture in Budapest. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Picturing Budapest

Fast: Camera phones make it easy to capture beautiful images, but they’ve popularized a curious practice:

Notice something interesting.
Stop n’ click. “Got it!”
Walk on without a second glance.

Ornate architecture in Budapest, Hungary inspires a travel tip: take time to notice the details. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Slow: Treat yourself to a sketchbook . What’s that, you say—you can’t draw? This isn’t about skill. It’s about slowing down and noticing, because Budapest is in the details.

An annotated sketchbook inspires a travel tip in Budapest, Hungary: put down the camera and pick up a drawing pencil. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Synch or swim?

Fast: From hopping onto roofless tour buses to hitting the clubs, many visitors here pursue fast-tempo fun. Escape games are popular. Teams solve riddles to sleuth their way out of locked rooms in under 60 minutes.

I’m stressed just thinking about it.

Slow: Spend an entire day unwinding at one of Budapest’s thermal spas. All are affordable and feature multiple soaking and swimming pools.

My favorite is Veli Bej, which is hidden under a utilitarian building. Just when you think you’ve misread the address, you emerge into splendor. Recently renovated, Veli Bej was built by the Ottoman Turks in the late 1500s, making it the ideal place to soak up some history.

Bathers at Gellert Spa inspire a travel tip: discover the thermal baths of Budapest. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Bathers at Szechenyi Spa inspire a travel tip: discover the thermal baths of Budapest. Image © Joyce McGreevy

My number one travel tip

Ancient and innovative, bitter and sweet, Budapest is all you can imagine and more. Whether you’re on a long visit, or—gasp!—just passing through, allow yourself moments to breathe and just be here.

Oh, I see: There’s no reason to rush, only endless reasons to return. To paraphrase an old song: Like the Danube flows surely to the sea, some things are meant to be.

Visit WeLoveBudapest, here. Find pre-travel reading at BudapestLocal here.

Rediscover Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 interpreted by Budapesti virtuoso Adam Gyorgy, here.

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

Joyce McGreevy 1 Comment

Art of Travel/Cultural Encounters/Hungary