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Prior to signing up for Global Food Cultures Paris, I believed that France was a romantic
city, which was highlighted by French cuisine, architecture, and the scenic French countryside.
My belief was informed by previous experience in Paris as a young boy, years of consuming TV
shows, movies, and mass media imagery of France, and high school French language classes.
I was excited to discover the romantic notions of the language I learned and the leisurely
lifestyle I believed Parisians pursued by savouring every moment of the day in cafes and
restaurants amongst beautiful, idyllic settings; eating only the best breads, cheeses, and wines.
I’d imagine I’m not alone in believing that France, and especially Paris is equivalent to romance.
I only wish my blissful ignorance remained unaffected by two weeks in a place I expected to see
but didn’t recognize at all.
My cognitive dissonance started not too long after I began reading the novel, Paris. Paris
was a beautifully written story of a city with a rich history, complex culture, and generations of
families experiencing a place that changed, but in many ways remained the same. I realize
Paris is a historical fiction and many aspects of the story are embellished, but as I read the
novel, I held on to the notion of romance by focusing on the loves stories, the characters
triumphs over hardship, and the many beautiful settings described where events took place.
Even at the end of the book the latest generations of two families meet and for a moment there
is the possibility of another love story. Yet, I was fully aware of major historical events depicted
in Paris, and how tragic some of them were for the story’s characters and France. At this point, I
started to understand the city had a long and complex history. There was beauty and the
possibility of even ugliness.
Another article that challenged my view of the French countryside was “Food Between
the Country and the City.” After reading this essay, I started to understand the idyllic image of
the French countryside was curated through tourism, and depicted by local producers selling an
ideology of artisanally crafted goods. Meaning, products like cheese, wine, and bread were
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commodities, produced using modern technology and contemporary business practices. Our
visit to Dijon, and Fromagerie Gaugry was one example of a modern production process of
cheese set in an otherwise scenic town of southern France. At this point, I questioned if culinary
symbols of France where truly representative of the French lifestyle I was idealizing.
I then started reading the excerpts of Paris France, which depicted the life of an
American author, Gertrude Stein, in Paris at the turn of the twentieth century. The readings drew
me back towards the notion of Paris as a city of culture and art. This essay, for me, underscored
the idea of work as a matter of lifestyle choice; rather than work out of necessity. I saw Paris as
the hub of leisure and creativity.
I was quickly converted back to questioning the complexity of Paris after reading The
Book of Salt. The story of Gertrude Stein, through the eyes of her Vietnamese gay, male cook
revealed the potential class structures in Paris, and the difficulty for immigrant populations. I
began to imagine that life in Paris was both leisurely, for those who could afford it, and difficult
for those who were surviving. The disparity is something I witnessed first hand during our trip
while traversing the many arrondissements of the city. On one hand. there are areas like the
Marais that is a playground for those with disposable incomes. On the other hand, is a place like
St. Denis that is largely immigrant populations living on the fringes of both society and the city.
Lastly, as I read Mark Bittman’s New York Times piece about the decline French Food, I
thought I might never experience classic French Cuisine, in a the idyllic setting of the classic
French Bistro.
While I did get this experience at Le Bouchon des Filles, it was the rare
exception. In fact, the few other meals I had in Paris were disappointing, especially the chicken
sandwich and french fries I had at a non descript cafe in St. Germain. It not only made me sick,
but turned me off to the Parisian cafe experience.
I was now starting to wonder if I was romanticizing Paris, and it was not romantic than
our trip began. The first few days, even most of the first week of our trip reinforced my notion of
Paris as a city of romance. I witnessed the beauty of the city from several vantage points (i.e.
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fifth floor of NYU Paris, the Seine river, and top of the Pompidou), experienced great food at a
local bistro and bakery, and walked around the city, especially Il-de-la-cite, and saw the
stunning architecture and many historical and iconic sites of Paris. Even as we did the Market
Analysis, I was still romanticizing Paris. Experiencing the city by foot was exciting and fun. Other
activities like the group picnics and the charcuterie tasting in the beginning of the trip aligned
with my idea of Paris as romantic. There were hints, however, that perhaps my belief was
pollyannish.
The first was our picnic at March Aligre when we were the only group picnicking in the
park. By contrast, there was a group of School Children eating McDonald’s, which is a scene I
witnessed in almost every city I visited before Paris. Second was the hustle and bustle of Paris
as we traversed the city streets. At times, the city felt more crowded than New York. Third, was
the very candid conversation with Franca about life as a Jew in Paris that opened my eyes to
realities of Judaism in France. I was starting to think about Paris as more of city then something
from a book I read, movie I watched, or experience I had prior.
It wasn’t until we began traveling to the outskirts of Paris that I started separating from
my viewpoint about Paris as romantic. Traveling to St. Denis for the algerian market was
probably the most poignant moment because it represented a community of people that couldn’t
wear their identity anywhere else except in St. Denis. It was starkly juxtaposed to a historic
basilica, which was only blocks away from the market and felt like Il-de-la-cite. I realized that
Paris wasn’t homogeneous. Everyone wasn’t French and everything didn’t look like the city
center. In fact, I was seeing that like New York City, it is a place of many different façades.
The walking tour of the community gardens revealed some of Paris’s political strife
when we saw a group of migrants protesting outside Bob’s Bakery. That same group was later
arrested, some of them fleeing to a community garden that we visited and which was about to
be destroyed. Their only refuge was a public space the city no longer wanted. Imagine, people
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Paris didn’t accept hiding in a place politicians wished to destroy. The irony in this merely
reflected the duality of Paris, a city I was starting to see differently than I first imaged.
Our trip to Lyon provided the separation from Paris to fully process what I was
witnessing, and to realize that Paris, like New York, was a being marketed to me through mass
media. Lyon, by contrast, was less busy and more honest about itself as a city. They embraced
their culinary legacy, heritage, and tourism without false pretense. It was the first time the entire
trip I felt like I wasn’t bombarded by city living. I was finally among French people going about
their daily lives; not surrounded by foreigners that make up a French city like Paris.
After returning from Lyon, I knew that Paris was different than I imagined. My original
notion of Paris was based on limited prior experience, what I learned about France through
mass media consumption that was a curated image romance. What I saw first-hand over two
immersive weeks was that Paris is a cosmopolitan, modern, and global city. If I only looked at
Paris through pop culture, and experienced it as a tourist, then I might still be convinced it was
fairy-tale
like.
I also stayed a week after the course for a vacation with my wife, Then, I expected and
was excited to see a city of romance. While it was romantic at times, overall, I ended my stay in
Paris longing for the place I once dreamed of.
Returning to the U.S. didn’t change my opinion about Paris, but talking to people about
my trip to France may return me to the notion that Paris is still romantic. When I tell people I
spent three weeks in France, their eyes light up and I hear excitement in their voice. These
people - co-workers, friends, and family - ask questions about what I saw, ate, and experienced.
However, they aren’t asking to hear about the complexity of a global, cosmopolitan city. They
want to know if the food was good, what museums I saw, or where else in France I visited. The
few times I tried to share my conflicting view of Paris, I drew blank stares. So, I resorted to
reporting back the highlight reel and talking about the rich history, phenomenal architecture,
beautiful countryside, and delicious bread, cheese, and wine. That seems to please people,
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and sends me a drift for a few moments back to the fantasy world of spending time in the most
romantic city in the world.