Luxembourg Garden
We are back in Paris and there’s so much to do with hardly any time to do it. However, one of my favorite things is to walk through the Jardin du Luxembourg, one of the city’s most beautiful parks tucked between Saint-Germain-des-Prés and the Latin Quarter, inspired by the Boboli Gardens in Florence. There’s an enormous classic palace—the breathtaking Palais de Luxembourg where the senate meets—smack dab in the middle of the park.
“If I was casting a French movie, I would come here to recruit extras.”
There’s a guy, half asleep, stretched out on one of the park chairs with his feet up on another chair, a blue striped jersey stretched thin around a huge belly, with a thick mustache and a nose like a champagne cork.
There are two elegantly dressed French women of a certain age, slowly strolling, arm in arm, coming from a three-hour lunch and still chatting animatedly without a care in the world.
And, my favorite Parisian scene, a young couple in a tight embrace, tongues deeply embedded in each other’s mouths, oblivious and unembarrassed about the crowds swirling around them.
It’s spring so there’s flowers blooming everywhere and there are little kids taking tennis lessons, and more kids playing soccer and there are puppet shows here and there. There are even rides on petits chevaux or miniature horses for even tinier kids, some of whom are not exactly sure about their equestrian skills.
But the kids having the most fun are down by the Grand Bassin, a pond in the center of the park because they are sailing colorful little boats.
It’s such a pleasure to sit and watch these kids, filled with enthusiasm, running from one side of the pond to the other, brimming with energy, carefully tracking their vibrant boats sailing slowly across the water until the boats get within reach of their sticks, whereupon the kids turn them around and send them sailing back across the water.
Of course, this being a Parisian park, there are generous amounts of comfortable metal chairs for people to sit and watch the sailing, or snooze or read a book. I assume that many Parisians have small apartments so sitting in the park on a sunny day, or even a cloudy one, is a respite from their cramped surroundings, kind of like a giant communal living room with hundreds of your closest French-speaking friends.
As much as the French enjoy their parks, nobody is having as much fun as the young sailboat captains as they charge around the pond, keeping their boats in action, jumping up and down with unabashed glee.
What a difference from American kids who are handed a phone or tablet (presumably to shut them up) where they spend all of their time staring at a screen, at an idiotic game that is designed to addict them to the point that they surreptitiously hijack their parent’s credit cards and run up enormous bills buying extra lives and outfits for their avatars.
Instead, Dad (a really good Dad) shells out five or ten euros for his kid to have a breathtakingly good time with his own personal sailboat, commandeering it over the high seas until it bangs into the edge of the pond and they send it back out to brave the elements.
Judging by their saucer eyes and how they wave their sticks and scream with delight as they dash back and forth to launch their boats across the pond, they must be filled with imaginary tales of pirates and sea battles and smoking cannons. All with a simple stick and a little wooden vessel.
There’s a definite age range for this activity, ranging from about four to seven years old. Their younger siblings are forced to watch the fun while the kids over seven roll their eyes, emit the uniquely French version of a raspberry (sounding something like “pppsssss” with pursed lips), and wander off, probably to smoke a Gauloise.
And the French kids are so cute with dark curly Gallic hair, fashionable clothes and, amazingly they speak such perfect French, even at such a young age.