My Return to the City of Lights

PARIS–– To begin to describe my return to the City of Lights, I want to start off with a poem my uncle wrote for my parents’ fifth wedding anniversary trip to France.

Never shudder before the Horizon.

Her arms outstretched in waiting embrace.

Take her and the world she offers.

But ever fickle the lover,

She reaches out again

The morning after.

A new glorious Horizon.

A new day.

– Harrison

This is how I feel about Paris. Five years ago, I had the opportunity to explore the city for a week––– living off a steady diet of pastries, camembert and impressionist art. I was enthralled. With my family, I explored countless historical features in a city that values their truest form. Or hoards them, depending on your view of Napoleon.

Let’s take the Eiffel tower, for example. The monument was almost torn down after twenty years post-completion,  yet it reminds us of its inescapable presence each night with a spectacular light show. After dusk, glittering strobe lights bounce across the Tower’s steel beams each hour like electrons buzzing around their nucleus. It’s invigorating and dizzying at the same time, energizing and entrancing one’s mind in an illusory harmony which invoked so much emotion the first time I was in Paris.

Bu on my second trip to Paris through our course this winter term,  my mind was in a less energetic state. Exhausted and jet-lagged, I woke to my class’ adulations of the Tower. While it did look beautiful that morning, I felt nothing. What is wrong with me? I thought. Why don’t I feel as invigorated as I was before when I toured the city?

Unfortunately, I could not answer those questions until the second day of our fast-paced journey in the city. From venturing around the Musée des Arts et Métiers to stumbling upon a yellow vest protest in the middle of the street, I fell in love with Paris again.

The calculated chaos and beauty made me realize that one can still stumble upon eye-opening experiences that peak your curiosity and wonder. I discovered this when I went to the Sacré-Cœur Basilica with a small group of my classmates. Situated on the outskirts of Paris in Montmartre, the basilica attracts almost 10 million visitors per year. Built between 1875 and 1914, Sacré-Cœur was founded as a sanctuary for France; a political promise after the defeat of the French army in the Franco-Prussian war in 1871.

Similar to the French, the monument united us all with its 205-step incline after several metro stops (and unexpected detours).  Despite the fatigue in our muscles, we charged ahead and lost our breath once we had reached the top (both literally, and figuratively). Even with the mist, the view was spectacular. Unlike dreamy day with skies outstretched in blue, it was refreshing to see the city’s horizon faded over the gothic and modern buildings. Naturally, we were one of the dozens of tourists packed against the cast-iron fence at the foot of the basilica, scrambling to get a better picture of the view.

But the picture I needed was right in front of me, guiding me to seek inspiration in my surroundings of Montmartre like those before my time. After all, Montmartre was a sanctuary for countless artists including Picasso and Renoir when they needed to draw inspiration from higher ground. This helped them gain perception as they could see the world and everything above and below it, of which makes the view incredibly spectacular.

After taking in the view, we went inside Sacré-Cœur or “Sacred Heart.” Immediately, I was struck by the delicacy of the basilica. Originally designed by architect Paul Abadie (who originally assisted with the restoration of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris), Sacré-Cœur reminded me of the ornate intricacy of the Catholic Church.  I always been raised by stain glass windows with golden features (in a church ironically called Sacred Heart), so I was not surprised in at the level of detail in the artwork.

But the stunning refraction of light off the gold paint on the interior walls and ceiling was something that I had never seen before. While most cathedrals rely on windows being a source of illumination, the dazzling display of manipulative artistry in architecture was solely through the paint that was used. Scenes of Christ were emblazoned in gold, brilliantly casting an aura through subdued blue paint. The mesmerizing contrast not only challenged my perspective, but entranced me in the sense of the Eiffel Tower’s strobe light display the first time I was in Paris.

Sacré-Cœur

For now, I leave my imagination to discover what light I will discover in my third time in the city of inspiration and enchantment.

-Abby