The Beauty in Plan B: Serendipity in Paris
FRANCE
It was a forced stop. In hindsight, it sounds ludicrous - who else would scoff at a Plan B that deposits one unexpectedly in Paris? Yet, here I was making a game-time decision: after some oscillating, I opted to avoid the nebulousness (and potential inconveniences, infractions, incarcerations, etc.) of continuing with my intended itinerary to Gabon, visa-less. To be fair (and unbeknownst to me then), my entry documents finally arrived 24 hours later, but by then I’d already lost my onward flights, got a hotel and shifted gears. Though Gabon wouldn’t end up happening, this new plan reminded me of all that Paris offers.
Why does uncertainty cause this much internal traffic? Inside me, I made U-turns and rerouted, sped on the highways of hope only to exit my well laid plans, yet once I surrendered to my stay in France, I converted to strolling - both through the splendid city and also, within my own walls.
Zag was a ‘fourth degree’ contact that catalyzed the shift. His love for his city was quietly contagious and with him and Fadi, the third degree contact, we made a solid trio. I silently thanked the first and second degree nodes in my network, as I was reminded yet again of the power (and pleasure) of introductions between and across contacts and how, eventually, they too become connections within our network. Zag turned out to live up to his self-proclaimed title of ‘best tour guide’ while he steered us smoothly along the (very many) sites. May this snapshot inspire/help collate your next stop in Paris!
Our texts across oceans scheduled us to sync up in person on her home turf in Cameroon. It turned out serendipitously that Fadi was also visiting Paris, so she offered to come meet me and quickly, a bond between us blossomed. The plan was for us to fix the mess of the flights and see if going to Gabon on the heels of a coup could still materialize. When she came to the hotel, she realized that her friend Zag lived nearby. As many Africans tend to do, he too made time to visit and soon we were swayed to sightsee. Since we’d all arrived with different intentions, it seemed like a greater force conjured up our collision and camaraderie. A Parisian latte and pain au chocolate can indeed ignite the imagination.
We paid tribute to the Louvre and Jardin des Tuileries, the latter dotted with statues as if they too grew like the trees, taking up their anointed spots in the circular garden ahead of the superstar celebrities of the surroundings. In August 2024, this was the place popping with the Olympic vibe and flame, as it was also the home to where the Olympiad of the Republic was conceived in 1793.
This cursory contact with the art giants sparked a curiosity of what re-exploring this city could be like, without an agenda or due date. Sipping in stories through storeys of collections at a pace only my body and being would dictate on the day seemed like a delicacy worth putting on the menu. What gifts could your Plan B bring?
We snaked around the Vendome, created by Louis XIV as a grandiose place to symbolize his power. The rows of gold and jewelry boutiques here and along Rue de la Paix have replaced prior political agendas with luxury retail instead. We gave a nod to the nearby minaret and continued to follow the zigs and zags that Zag was delineating. To see Place Valois through the Passage Vérité, ‘Emily in Paris’ followers easily arrive on set. Other highlights for Hollywood fans are the once controversial Colonnes de Buren with the a backdrop of 260 columns that stem from the basement and emerge with various heights within the Palis Royal courtyard.
The air was cool, but I was cozy. Zag, the man I had met less than 18 hours ago, had brought me his fashionable winter jacket. After all, summer linens alone wouldn’t have held up to showers and overcast skies. I wished that this trust I have when I travel, that ‘everyting’s gonna be alright’, could flow with an equivalent force into all our moments. As I stared at the scene in front of me, I realized we were being serenaded with a spunky song about surviving. I knew therefore, that this ancillary itinerary was purposefully poised, and in that, I relaxed into reassurance - even though I wasn’t sure (during most the trip) where I’d be going next or for how long.
Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore housed the brands for the big boys and girls, the place where trendsetters with surplus come to splurge. Somehow, Fadi and I both fell prey to his offer ‘for a little gift’, but a packet of voluptuous hand cream with gold flakes did the trick. Blue eyed Stefano’s sway was just as I’d imagine an Italian man massaging a lady’s hand would be: so suave. After a few quick demos and strokes on her hands, Fadi walked out pleased with her purchase, more so given her handsome discount.
Then seemingly out of nowhere, a slick black Mercedes pulled up. As the doors opened, a waft of luxury toppled out of the car like the scent was waiting to swallow us in its embrace. The Vogue magazines and needed charger added to the impact, but the highlight was the chauffeur that looked like he was picking up James Bond himself. The Uber X wove through Grands Boulevards, perhaps a sibling to London’s Oxford street, then arrived at Giuse, a restaurant that stole my heart. The place was packed and each table’s dishes looked delicious. It’s one thing to order off a sumptuous menu and it’s another to have the chef greet you at your table, taking into account what your tastebuds are after.
I can’t explain why I’ve been loyally consuming caprese salads every single day for months on end, but what I can say was knowing that I’d soon be back in Africa, Paris was on the hook to handmake a superduper salad to tie me over. Zag brought us here, ensuring that chef Vittorio Beltramelli (from Milan) obliged and created the concoction with the biggest, freshest and most innately delicious naked mozzarella I think I’ve ever had. The basil, though much scanter than how I set it up, made up for it in its generous flavour and aromatics. The presentation of table-side construction and the dinnerware added to the appeal. More followed. Unordered appies came as compliments and we worked to Jenga them into our bellies.
Then arrived the dish that I will no doubt dream of until I indulge in it again: the on-point truffle pasta. Generous servings, culinary creativity, fusion of flavours and complexity within simplicity deserved an award. The warm copper dish that contained it made me feel like Special was sprinkled all around this situation. How I wished a citizen could hand out a Michelin star, even temporarily. After all, a lunch of a lifetime like this deserves recognition.
I thought of how I would have missed out on this experience if my original plans had happened. How many times in life does the detour seem deserving enough? Perhaps the re-routed road is actually the right way.
Most satiated, we hit Rue Rivoli, weaving between the Louvre, the Grand Palais and Petite Palais before landing on Champs Elysée. I followed Fadi in to see her explore upscale men’s shoes before we continued on to the obelisk at Place de la Concorde, the Alexandre III Bridge and the Seine River. The wind picked up and the sky swelled to spit sprinkles, but the majestic monuments (and even the no-name ones) were stars that held my attention, like the Olympians who maintain their stature long after the day they medaled.
I marveled at how I could have spent so much more time sipping and smiling at this single statue, then thought how many thousands more Paris must have. And yet, that still didn’t take anything away from her beauty and rank. Now if only we as humans could fully embrace our own unique value add, regardless of the size, status and spectacularness of others. I also wondered what these stone sculptures might report - after all, they’ve been sitting (or standing) in stillness for a long while … what could I learn from one who has been frozen, seeing the same perspective only with time, tales and trillions of spectators zipping by. Would she share her time-lapse reel with me to springboard my learning? Just then, I was beckoned to mobilize, the duo up ahead was waiting.
After the Hôtel National des Invalides, in a flash, the Eiffel Tower came into view. Built in two years with a modest force and budget, it’s made almost entirely of open-lattice wrought iron to create a light, airy, but strong structure. Civil engineer Gustave Eiffel’s design was selected amongst 100 others to celebrate the centenary of the French Revolution and as such, the Eiffel Tower attracts approximately seven million tourists annually.
I loved the way built art was only half the story here, while the natural environment was curated to closely compliment, like the yin and yang of couples. Further ahead, Champs de Mars offered more views of the Tower, with tree lines softening the wrought iron swooping into the sky. Even the École-Militaire wasn’t overlooked by artists, though granted it was training cadets for the royal army, and Napoleon Bonaparte.
What happens when everything we build has beauty infused into it, or better yet, is consciously constructed to be beautiful? I suspect that our houses, institutions, stores and schools could bolster function and form not only with fashion, but also, with feeling.
Bygone would cookie-cutter architecture be and left behind would be the lackluster squares and rectangle spiritless structures. Instead, facades, flowers, lattice, Lego, actually just about anything that stirred the imagination into dialoguing with our surroundings could emerge. In the mid 19th century, Baron Haussaman re-laid 60% of the capital, redesigning wider streets and inviting both modernity and audacity to interface with history and culture. Regardless of how others do it or if we’ll follow suit somehow, for now, Paris is sitting centre stage on this convo and most definitely, as the current day plan that now has my full focus.
“May the beauty of what we love be what we do”, as Rumi says.