A Trip Down Memory Lane

The more time I have spent in Paris over the years, the less I have been interested in seeing yet more famous landmarks or historical old buildings, and the more fascinated I have become with the simple pastime of people watching. Time and time again, I just wander around watching the actions of the people around me. There is no doubt that the Parisians do have a certain unique style and they do love to watch and be watched. In French there is even a name for this, it is called being a flaneur. So today I took on the role of a Parisian flaneur.
As I wandered along the Rue de Rivoli, past the Louvre and the Tuileries, the Place de la Concord and the Grand Palais, not only did it bring back a flood of memories, but it also reminded me that, after 8 weeks of riding and walking, my legs were weary. I am now looking forward to being back home and returning to something like a normal lifestyle.
As I walked the Tuileries I recalled a time when I was here on Bastille Day in 2014. We had just completed challenging rides in Finland and Sweden and had also ridden the famous Coast to Coast route across the UK. After the riding was over, my very good friend Paul Coutts and I decided to spend some time in London and Paris. As Paul and I entered the Tuileries, the first thing we noticed was that just about every Frenchman and his father was wearing some sort of uniform. It appeared to me that every family must have a store of old military uniforms in their attic, just for wearing proudly on Bastille Day. The range of uniforms was astounding, with everything from French Foreign Legion to whimsical Napoleonic garb. I would not have been surprised to see Captain Feathersword from the Wiggles and Captain Kirk from StarFleet in the crowd.
It was the first time either of us had been in Paris on Bastille Day and it provided an interesting insight into the French culture. It seemed that the entire nation was taking pride in the mighty military victories that they might have won if the results had come out differently. We all knew that, since the days of Napoleon, the French had mostly been on the losing side in major conflicts. That didn't seem to matter in the slightest. Any nation that can produce the best bread in the world, can surely hold its communal head high.
After several kilometres of walking, my legs and my will gave up completely. I staggered back to the hotel and collapsed on the tiny bed for an afternoon rest. I awoke shortly afterward to find that a noisy student protest was taking place about 100 metres from the hotel. I went to get a closer look, but decided that most of the students looked like they were partying more than they were protesting. C'est La Vie.Read more