Saturday, May 20, 2006

Qui a marché ici ?

Qui a Marché Ici ?

In Paris, I try not to get too taken in by the "sights" despite their very obvious presence... While I create lots of panoramic images of the popular places, I tend to prefer the less populated spaces. Galerie 88 was one such place... it was a very narrow salon de thé along the Seine, not far from l'Hôtel De Ville.

Until I entered here, I'd not entered an eatery in which I didn't think I could rely on my english. On this trip, I was hoping to actually use some of the french I've been learning, and not rely entirely on the likelihood that the people to whom I'd speak knew english. It remains a daunting task for me as words don't quite roll from my tongue with the ease I'd prefer. The time it takes to put only a couple of words together in french seems like an eternity at times.

If I have one regret about my stay, it's that I didn't request of Phil that he only speak to me in french... it would have been hell, no doubt, but it would have forced me to use the language more than I did.

How did this stray to language? It was about small places!!

Ah, yes... I entered Galerie 88 wanting to see Anne McAulay's photographs and decided to sit and have a salad and a beer (two actually!). I expected that it would mean that I'd have to speak in french... as it turned out, I didn't have to speak much french as une salade grecque and une Carlsberg bière sound much the same in english as they do in french! Still, there is that whole approach/avoidance thing that occurs — that moment when we choose to take the safe route or choose to leap forth. This was one of those moments for me.

Besides, I really wanted to see Anne's photographs!

As for the title of this... it is a constant thought as I visit very old places — I wonder about those who have come before me. "Whose footprints have my feet just now retraced?" Famous or not, I wonder what kinds of lives have tread on these same floorboards or on the same cobblestone paths I've wandered. In a place like Paris, it's difficult to not feel something other than the stone or wood beneath my feet.

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