The grime and glamour of Paris
November, 2023
When someone mentions Paris, France, many things come to mind: croissants, chic fashion, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, baguettes, and so much more. I was getting ready to move to Paris without ever setting foot in the city, and without knowing many people who could tell me more insight about it than what I already heard. I heard that the pastries were out of this world; nobody would speak French to me because I’m American; hoodies were out of the question to wear out and about; and I would come back from my year abroad a chic, cigarette-smoking woman who could presumably speak French. Paris became a glamorous, seemingly unreachable level of chic that truly intimidated me. What struck me when I arrived and spent my first few weeks in Paris was the lack of depth (surprise, surprise) that Paris’ reputation held. In reality, Paris is far from simply glamorous. A source that held significant truth in my eyes is one of Paris’ most magical movies, Ratatouille. The protagonist, Remmy, a sewer rat is cooking in a five-star kitchen from the inside of the hat of his unlikely friend, Linguini. Together, they turn the fate and morale of the restaurant around by redefining the boundaries of cooking (and hygiene for that matter). Ratatouille shows us the truth. You don’t get the glamor without the real star: the grime.
Grime might not seem to be a loving adjective to use when describing a city, but Paris has an aspect of life and movement that gives it this dynamic feeling. Every good city has an element of grime that gives it character. Paris’ grime doesn’t necessarily make it dirty, but it shows a realistic encapsulation of what it can be like to live in a big, bustling city. It’s a city of layers. The first layer is its romanticized reputation and delivery of said reputation. The second layer is the hidden gems of the city and the depth it brings to life there. The third layer is the element of surprise and amusement when encountering the big city charms. Let’s start with the Metro.
Paris’ Metro system is beyond useful and in many eyes, beautiful. Each Metro system has its own theme and feel, making traveling around the city a unique experience. I ride the Metro at least once a day. I have a 40 or so minute commute to school that I share with dozens of Parisians. I stand in the stuffy, potentially bed-bug-holding metro alongside these citygoers in daily unified fatigue.
Some of the magic of the metro (besides its magical convenience) is a feeling of teleportation when you descend into the ground of one location and emerge into a new area surrounded by a different, lively Parisian ambiance. When I commute to school, I depart from a metro stop amongst local barber shops, patisseries, and street vendors selling corn on the cob. Upon my arrival, I am immediately facing Les Deux Magots and Café de Flore, two iconic Parisian cafes as well as high-fashion hot spots that I lived vicariously through during Fashion Week. These two locations, while different in content, run head-to-head in brilliance.
One of the amazing aspects of Paris is its wide array of food. I know on any given morning I can find a pâtisserie and start my day with a croissant aux amandes. I also know that after any night out, I can stumble to purchase a kebab for the journey home.
One evening, I was sitting by the Seine with two friends (success! Friends!). We sat along the edge of the cobblestone pathway, our legs dangling over the edge and a falafel wrap in our hands. How glamorous. Sharing a meal with friends next to the Seine. To my right, the Eiffel Tower and the setting sun. To my left, a man peeing into the Seine. This is a core memory for me when I think back to the fading warm weather, the beautiful view, the stunning falafel, and holding back disgust and laughter with my friends from this picturesque moment’s infiltration by the Frenchman’s bathroom break.
Ratatouille, alongside its representation of grime, is also emblematic of how Paris’ allure can provoke emotions as grand as the city itself. One of the moments of the movie that I resonate the most with is a scene after Remmy has finally earned the trust of the other chefs. Let me set the scene: In the last leg of the movie, Remmy and Linguini have just surpassed their era of conflict and revenge (heart-wrenching, I won’t get too off-track), and reunite forces at the restaurant. Remmy is no longer trapped inside Linguini’s hat and is freed to express his culinary expertise in the kitchen in preparation for food critic, Anton Ego’s arrival. Remmy convinces the kitchen to serve a variation of ratatouille. Anton takes his first bite and is immediately transported back to a fond memory of eating his mother’s ratatouille. His eyes light up, his heart grows warm, and his cold demeanor melts into — dare I say— kindness. This meal and Anton’s memory would not have been stirred up had the kitchen, the glamor, not accepted the help of Remmy, the grime.
Anton’s reaction is symbolic of my own experiences in Paris. When I began to look around, not just at Paris’ surface-level beauty, but at the hole-in-the-wall quirks and character, I started to feel a real sense of place. I try to walk around as much as possible, often disconnecting myself from my music to immerse myself in the sounds of my environment. Wandering around the city I feel overcome by emotion. Astonishment at the sights, sounds, and smells. Disgust by the dog sh*t I almost stepped in. Wonder of what that tiny coffee shop is called, and where it came from out of the blue. But most of all, I am grateful to be here and have a redefined view of what a romanticized city like Paris can offer. There’s not one story to be told, or one experience to be had. Similarly, studying abroad is as incredible and glamorous as it is challenging and lonely. It comes with an abundance of emotions, experiences, hopes, regrets, and lessons learned that make it a life-changing experience. I remind myself day by day that amongst the glamor and the grime, it’s Remmy’s world and I’m just living in it.
