Wow! Paris really woke up this last few weeks! It continues to be so interesting how, if you’re paying attention, there is a very distinct vibe that drives this city and subtly changes people’s behavior from day to day.

For example, a few weeks ago at the beginning of the month, I stepped outside onto to our terrace to check the weather. Pretty warm, I thought, and put on light slacks and a tee to talk a walk to a friend’s house. As I got to the bottom step of my apartment, I practically ran into a woman who was dressed in her mid length buttoned up raincoat, boots and warm neck scarf tripled around her neck. She looked at me, I looked at her. “American!” I’m sure she thought. “It’s the first week of September; summer is over, fall is here; wardrobe change! (even though the day was bright and sunny)” I thought.

At our weekly foray to the farmer’s market, people seemed almost giddy with excitement to be back to the city; all the restaurants and everyone else are back in business. One of the things that struck me lately is how true it is when it is said that this city is essentially a grouping of 100 different neighborhoods, and what gives them their charm is the individual merchants who run the shops. And individuals need time off. I recently read that it is against the law for businesses to be open on Sunday, with certain dispensations given to businesses that cater to tourists or for emergencies. So, while the law is very loosely interpreted and enforced --- you get familiar with the times places are opened and closed and don’t just accept it, but create your schedule around it too. This of course includes when you see everyone in the world sitting down for a beer in an outdoor café in the afternoon, sitting down too to enjoy the scenery and people watching.

This certainly has to be the capital of people watching. Most of us from America are not used to being stared at by strangers --- you immediately assume someone is sizing you up. But here, “looking” is just what people do as they sit out at sidewalk cafes. I actually think it serves a huge positive function as a continual community feed about what’s happening in the city--- a continual visual on fashion, an ongoing auditory on what people are concerned about while listening to the buzz around them; a daily plug into what is happening in the neighborhood while interacting with always chatty waiters; hilarious entertainment how the idiotic tourists are behaving; noting the local homeless beggar has lived to see another day; and hearing what the neighborhood schizophrenic has on his mind. I’ve noticed whatever neighborhood we’re in, with perhaps the exception of the Champs Elysees which is tourist city, has the same caste of characters. I’m starting to believe that’s why, even if going “solo” here without a social network or even close friends; you never have to feel alone. You can read, you can contemplate, you can stare along with everyone else for as long as you want.

Since I’ve started to take daily walks to a beautiful park called Parc Monceau, I’ve noticed similar type of a community feed-in. This particular park has got it all; a sweet play area for little kids, especially for practicing on their adorable little scooters, some beautiful walking paths, lovely greenery and space galore for picnicking. In addition, there is a dirt track that goes around the perimeter of the park for runners and walkers, with park benches all along the way, as well as scattered throughout, including some stone ruins from who knows when, not to mention an ancient stone building where the toilettes are located! It’s such a beautiful slice of Paris life --- African nannies and young mommies with their infants, runners, kids from the school next door out for recess (no playgrounds in the city, much less play equipment, etc) --- the kids run around screaming like wild banshees pushing each other around until the teacher rings a bell and calls them back to class; and a majority of couples on the benches, all shapes, sizes, and ages with the woman sitting up with their men looking as if all they need in life is a lap to lay their weary heads while their woman strokes their hair. Parks here are always full of readers, writers, people taking their lunch break there in their professional clothing or just taking a break. I’ll often take a little picnic and hang out for the hour.

Displays of public affection and touching here are also really reflective of Paris. People don’t hug and continuously touch each other, but they do give the double cheek kiss to their men and women friends alike; they love to make out, especially on bridges and underneath trees, but I notice that stops as a public display at around the age 35; you sit really close in restaurants and subways, but you never touch; many of the bathrooms are unisex, so you hear what you hear in the stall next to you; you seldom see anyone on the streets in workout clothes (yoga classes you go the gym and everybody changes from their street clothes to gym clothes in front of each other --- you do the class then change again after you’re through);
the women zip around on bicycles and motorcycles with their high heels hooked over the back of the pedals and their tight skirts and blouses not showing a wrinkle. You can always tell whose at home here of the 2 million residents and who are the other 27 million tourists milling about!

We’re continuing to have some great restaurant experiences. Restaurant Le Procope founded in 1686, where we could have been sitting at the same table that the likes of Voltaire, Rousseau or even our friend Benjamin Franklin sat at. I hope their chicken was better than mine! A Gospel Concert at St. Germain des Pres, one of the oldest churches in Paris; listening to jazz at Le Café Laurent at the Hotel Aubusson, a place where in 1690 artists and novelists liked to meet for what was then a revolutionary new drink called l’Eau de Café (coffee water --- how many billions and billions of cups have been drunk since then --- talk about a great invention!); and one of the more interesting museums here --- the Postal Museum which was the precursor to France’s roadway and railway system, not to mention a revolutionary idea of the person sending the mail paying in advance, affordable to all. Recently we went to another exhibit recognizing the 150th year anniversary of the enlargement of Paris to its current boundaries. It began in 1840 with Baron Haussman creating a master architectural plan for the city which has since defined the infrastructure and structure that is what makes Paris. It’s absolutely extraordinary to see the power and insight that he possessed to literally rebuild a city that had existed for 2000 years, not just logistically but aesthetically, that continues to function unbelievably well today.

And we enjoyed Rosh Hashana services at Kehillat Gesher. Held in a rented facility on a busy street called rue Annociation, it reminded me of the beginning of Beth Haverim days, but this time the progressive service was in Hebrew, English and French. Rabbi Tom Cohen is a graduate of UCLA, University of Judaism and the Jewish Theological Seminary; the cantor Diane Rose was from the San Fernando Valley --- felt like home. Until of course, we stepped outside onto a typically busy street, where on either side were cafes, fruit vendors, cheese, bread, chocolate, wine and books, you name it! We totally enjoyed the morning and look forward to spending more time with the community.