Let's Say It's May & You Have Two Days in Paris

Theme song: La pluie

A man I don't know very well asked me what he should do for two days in May in Paris.

I felt at once a poignant mix of longing, regret, and desire. You all know I had a French lover and I got to know Paris, and establish a deeper relationship with France, as a result. After the relationship ended, I even went so far as to travel back to Paris, and France, and bring my children with me, to prove to myself that my relationship with France was not dependent on my lover, but on me.

It didn't really work. You have to be present to a lover to make love work. And as it is, I am here, not there.

Paris and France are entwined with my youthful hopes and dreams. I have many rich, beautiful, and meaningful memories of times I have spent in France, but they are not per se happy memories. They are something more than happy, but they are not light. Instead, as I say, they inspire that feeling of longing, regret, and desire.

Perhaps it's that I have loved France for so long that it (she) represents my most naked desires for love and connection or a wish to escape my ever present feeling that I am an outsider. Now I know, at least in theory, that the only place to be is where you are.

France is, I know, just a country like any other country with economic problems and small, annoyed people who are trying to have sex, get to work, eat dinner, and enjoy their leisure time just like everyone else. Sure, it has a rich history and beautiful scenery, but it also has lots of traffic and Paris often smells like p***. Besides: How can you fall in love with a country? A country cannot love you back, can it? It's a case for unrequited love if ever I saw one and I don't even believe in unrequited love. Perhaps you can see my dilemma.

It doesn't matter. I will always love France or at least my fantasy of France. And those fantasies will be tied in with my desires for little black dresses, a chic figure, good food, meaningful relationships, and a sense of order and fair play. I will think of France's countryside and I will want to run my hand along its curves.

I have often felt at ease in France because there is never any pressure to be anything but an outsider, and an exotic, California outsider at that. I will continue to remember all the wonderful conversations I had in which everything was naturally simplified by the strain to understand and the strain to be understood.

While I had a French lover, I got under France's skin a little bit. My French got pretty good, and I became more intimate with the people. I met interesting locals with whom I felt I connected, even if the connections were transitory. And, really, connecting with French people is in some ways easier than connecting with Americans. Not all, but certainly many, French are available for nuanced conversation in a way that is both emotionally resonant and yet restrained. So delicious.

The French are not afraid to be in love, or to be jealous, or to feel melancholy. All of this is quite relaxing for a person who wants to feel free to feel without the American complication of needing everything to be happy. On the other side, to be fair, French people do not want to seem naive, so many of them err on the side of associating happiness with a form of stupidity. A cultural error, if I do say so myself.

Of course it is really bold to say all this about French people and their country. It's one thing to love France, and it's another to offload a bunch of cultural conjecture.

Returning to safer ground, I'll tell you what I told the man I do not know very well who wanted to know what to do for two days in Paris.

Lucky you, your jet lag, the best drug ever, will be at a peak, heightening your experience with or without a glass of wine. Stay in a traditional apartment in a central arrondissement so you don't have to struggle to get around. If you can, much like the man I do not know well plans to do, go in May. May is probably France's best month.

Here's what to do:

• Stroll along the Seine and take in views of Notre-Dame.
• Shop Deyrolles.
• Visit le Parc des Buttes-Chaumont and the surrounding neighborhood.
• Take back streets up all the stairs to le Sacré-Ceour, but only at night.
• Explore the Canal Saint-Martin.
• Walk the Promenade Plantée.

If you have extra time, visit the Jardin des Plantes (be sure to say hi to the Mara for me) and walk across the street to the Institut du Monde Arabe where you can have a cup of mint tea and laugh at the birds.

Don't try to speak to Parisians; it will only frustrate you. And definitely don't smile at them for no reason. They will think you are dumb, or maybe dangerous. If possible, do not take any pictures while you are in Paris. Not taking pictures will sharpen your senses and later, when you look back, you'll know that the things you remember are likely things you actually experienced.

I do not know if, after all that, you will experience a mix of longing, regret, and desire. But if you do, know that you are not alone. I am right there with you.