The sights and smells of Paris in the Spring
Today was a gorgeous, sunny, blue sky filled day. It was one of those days where everything around you acquires a brightness that cannot be solely attributed to sunlight and you find yourself smiling as you open the door to your room for no reason other than somebody held the elevator door open for you. This evening I also found myself in front of my laptop, writing, which I haven’t done in a long time. It’s amazing how a long, cloud-covered winter can sap the will to do anything other than what is absolutely necessary. I spent most of January and February working too much and riding my bike, but with the arrival of the sun and warm temperatures I have new resolve to enjoy Paris, resplendent in her spring regalia. And new resolve to share it with you. So here I go . . . .
Paris may be timidly trying out her young blooms, which have only just begun to open, but her inhabitants are decidedly fragrant. As I rode the crowed metro to the lab this morning I had the misfortune of being pressed up against some man who apparently had not showered in the last week. Or at least that’s how he smelled. But he was not the only one sporting his own eau naturale. I nearly passed out this morning due to my fellow commuters’ odors! And it was only worse as on the way home. In my limited experience, I have found that there is some amount of truth to the stereotype that the French don’t shower very often. For example, I am one of the few to shower in the locker room, and usually the only one to wash my hair as tens of women pass through on their way to and from aerobics classes, inevitably sweaty but not compelled to enter the white tiled shower area. This was not a problem during the colder months, as everyone wrapped themselves in insulating layers, trapping any offending smells, but in this in between weather, not cold yet not quite warm, people often find themselves over or underdressed, the former leading to a wide range of body odors. By the time the real warm weather hits, I’m sure I’ll be immune to the metro funk, but I swear I will never adopt it!
Paris may be timidly trying out her young blooms, which have only just begun to open, but her inhabitants are decidedly fragrant. As I rode the crowed metro to the lab this morning I had the misfortune of being pressed up against some man who apparently had not showered in the last week. Or at least that’s how he smelled. But he was not the only one sporting his own eau naturale. I nearly passed out this morning due to my fellow commuters’ odors! And it was only worse as on the way home. In my limited experience, I have found that there is some amount of truth to the stereotype that the French don’t shower very often. For example, I am one of the few to shower in the locker room, and usually the only one to wash my hair as tens of women pass through on their way to and from aerobics classes, inevitably sweaty but not compelled to enter the white tiled shower area. This was not a problem during the colder months, as everyone wrapped themselves in insulating layers, trapping any offending smells, but in this in between weather, not cold yet not quite warm, people often find themselves over or underdressed, the former leading to a wide range of body odors. By the time the real warm weather hits, I’m sure I’ll be immune to the metro funk, but I swear I will never adopt it!
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