Falling in love with Paris - Part 1

Nothing could have prepared me for the beauty and magnificence of Paris. There is a magic here that I feel as I walk through the old streets. A freedom that is difficult to grasp or describe. It feels as if all my life I have been searching for something that I had lost. I think I've found it. It fills me with wonder and a joy that I haven't felt in a long time.

Yesterday I got out of the metro station at Les Halles in the 1st arrondissement and came out in front of the L'eglise Saint-Eustache, simply a masterpiece of Gothic architecture. As I looked up, my breath got caught in my chest as I inhaled deeply. How could I not be in awe? Mozart chose this place for his mother's funeral. Richelieu was baptized here, and Moliere was married here in the 17th century. Surrounded by culture and history so deep, so rich was I and all I could do for this moment was to sit  down on a bench and stare up at this beautiful church just as Enya's Deora Ar Mo Chroi played on my iPod. That was unplanned. Tears came falling out of my eyes, hot and salty on my cheeks in the bitter winter cold.



And so it was all day. I walked  over to Rue du Louvre and under the gate arch of the square at the entrance to the Louvre. I was overwhelmed with the beauty. I stood near the fountain and imagined what it was like in the days of Louis XIV and Marie Antoinette. I was standing on ground where these kings and queens entertained their throngs and subjects and rode their horses and carriages in on the cobbled streets through the majestic gateways. I looked up at the beautiful stone women staring down at me from their places up high and gave them a little nod. Just saying hello. Then to the pyramid of glass which seemed amusingly out of place, but a work of art in and of itself.

I entered the Museum and walked slowly, from room to room, savouring each and every painting, each and every sculpture, and with every piece, I was more and more in awe. Art and the artist's passion has always spoken to my soul, like a soothing voice in a cold and bitter world, like a refuge from the madness and loneliness. From the Venus De Milo to the gargantuan ancient Renaissance paintings of Napolean, of soldiers and saints, of whores and virgins, of battling Kings and gardens full of Queens, then to that painting - arguably the most famous in the world, there she was. The Mona Lisa, La Joconde, with her smile or no smile, and as familiar as she was to me, nothing prepares you for the real thing, which is the same as I always say about the famous Tour Eiffel. You see all these pictures everywhere, but when I came out of Trocadero metro and walked around the corner, it literally took my breath away.

I could feel the heartbeat of this City. I could see why Ernest Hemingway was so inspired to write here, why Oscar Wilde fled here after his imprisonment and vowed never to return to Britain or Ireland. I paid my respects to him and Jim Morrison at Pere La Chaise cemetery, said hello to Edith Piaff.

If I could spend the rest of my days in Paris, I would gladly take my last breath there. But this is just the beginning. This was one day during my first visit. More to come.

L'Eglise Saint-Eustache

Goddesses

Pere La Chaise

The Voltaire Cafe at Place Leon Blume

L'Arc de Triumph

The Louvre Fountain