Paris Paris

Yes, it is Malcolm McLaren and Catherine Deneuve, and it is lovely.

Paris is so many things to so many people, and it is home to many, including many who do not live there but find it to be a spiritual home.

It is a city that is designed to be used: you are expected—no encouraged—to go out and interact. The first thing you say when you walk into a store is bonjour, otherwise you would be the rude American. Paris forces you into intelligent and interesting conversations. Paris forces you to be a better person.

The apartments are small and cramped, and impossibly stuffy; the kitchens are tiny, the refrigerators are smaller than what any of us had in our dorms, and so everyone in Paris shops daily (tous à Paris faires ses courses chaque jour) or goes to cafés to meet with friends; you rarely have people over for dinner (small/cramped, remember).

There are few backyards, but many parks, and so when you want to play fetch with Rover, or play ball with Junior, it is to the parks you go.

And because you are always out and about and being seen, Parisians are always prepared to be seen. Parisians seems more chic and fashionable than their counterparts elsewhere. Even the joggers are coiffed and elegant, the sneakers so clean they look new, and no tatty torn tee shirts in sight. Yes, it is a whiff of cologne you smell as they jog past.

And now Paris is also home to terror and it was targeted for many of the reasons it is so special: because Paris forces you to mingle. And you might be mingling with someone strapped and ready to explode… Read More

By: Tengrain

Fully caffeinated with twice the sugar, unabashedly liberal. Award-winning Americans United blogger, blogs at Mock Paper Scissors, and sometimes at Crooks and Liars.

You can follow @Tengrain on Twitter, or you might see him enjoying coffee somewhere in Seattle at any given moment of the day.