With Paris, it was love at first sight. Despite being busy, it was relaxed and laid back. Even the light seemed to be sitting at a café with a glass of wine watching the world go by. That effusive haziness, captured by impressionists, was the city in the summer.
The city was both hostile and welcoming. I had heard about rude Parisians, but they all seemed friendly to me. On the other hand the traffic made New York seem peaceful. I watched one driver bump two cars apart to make a parking space. Only the suicidal cycled.
The museums teemed with art students and bored tourists, all seeking the smile of La Giaconda – any true insight was blinded by flashes from cameras. Gilded stones and statues sat arrogantly amongst wide avenues designed to help pacify the population. They seemed to be def
