The City that fulfills the thirst for new experiences

I first came to Paris when I was 8, it was my first trip outside of war stricken Iran where I had grown up, and soon after we moved here for good. The contrast was stark.

During the first year my mother took us to visit every monument and museum. My most striking encounter back then was the Musée d’Orsay and it’s impressionists’ collection. I also remember vividly the Centre George Pompidou and the adjacent fountain with the Nicky de Saint Phalle statues and the general atmosphere there. And of course seeing Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triumph and the whole experience of getting up there. I enjoyed the street performances, the old green swings, the merry-go-rounds, the Jardin d’Acclimatation... I also remember hating the smelly cheese at the school’s cantine, the unfounded rudeness of some Parisians and missing the unflinching Tehran sun.

photo by Maryam M.

photo by Maryam M.

photo by Maryam M.

photo by Maryam M.

photo by: Maryam M.

photo by: Maryam M.


I remember understanding my father’s philosophy of life regarding happiness and grasping and enjoying the present, walking in the Jardin de Luxembourg and the parks at the bottom of the Champs Elysées during my student years. I also remember countless hours in cafes drinking expressos and smoking cigarettes discussing small and grand matters with my friends. I always enjoyed discovering Paris through the eyes of others. I remember afternoons where I picked up random metro stations and trajectories to discover what I didn’t know yet.

Then I went to London for new adventures, to get lost again and make new discoveries. I loved London, but I was always excited to travel back to Paris. Then I had my son, and after some time I realized that I wanted to share Paris and the French culture with him, and so we came back when he was 3, and by chance moved to the same street where I had first shortly lived in Paris. I was worried about Paris being too static, to get bored. Every corner has a memory for me, but we are making new ones. I realized that the city changes under its timeless appearance, and so does our experience of it at different times of our lives and with changing mindsets.

Despite having lived in Paris for over 17 years in total, the city continues to fulfill my thirst for new experiences, and I never get used to how beautiful it is. I believe it is a true privilege to live here; it’s not easy to get the permit to stay, the language and culture are not obvious at first, nor is the job market for newcomers; it also comes with high taxes and prices, but for me it’s worth the effort and sacrifices.

Maryam M.

Paris is Paris

Without doubt apart from those who have lost loved ones, the global pandemic has probably hit those of us hardest, those of us who miss sharing a laugh and a toast with loved ones on a seaside bar, always be the last one to leave the table at the tavern, coming back home carrying our shoes, our feet covered in sand, constantly hugging and kissing each other, in other words those of us who really DO love to live.

And it hit us right when we had just moved to Paris, the capital city of the cafés where the culture of socialization has reached a subtle perfection.

Although once we were the last ones to leave a club in Istanbul, recently feeling a little resentful of everything, we had already retreated our tables and long drinks with friends back within the walls of our homes. But, remembering a Turkish saying about how our minds feed from each other, now we find ourselves looking for alternatives to keep ourselves from collecting dust at home, left on our own.

Actually, against all odds, life in Paris is still really not that bad: I’m watching the constructors from the building across the street enjoying a cold beer at lunch on the corner café, still in their overalls. The elderly gentleman of the neighborhood, a coffee in his hand, in his fedora hat and cashmere coat, ordering whiskey or rum shot makes me happy in the morning. It is possible and amazing to watch the sun set and the moon rise at the same time from the top of Montmartre.

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The city culture, which has unfortunately migrated away from my country along with the minorities, makes me feel better every day here, in Paris.

Sometimes I miss the tourist groups hanging around the corner that I used to complain about before.

And of course sometimes, inexplicably on a Sunday afternoon usually, when I feel lonely, disappointed, angry, fearful and sad, I pour myself a double rum or calvados. I look at all my feelings through 40% proof alcohol. I try to keep myself still as a rock, grounded against the current of a river and I start to feel cleansed. Strong, healing, exciting feelings show themselves and flow through me. I feel that the stronger and more traditional drinks flow better into the spirit of these times.

And at the end of the day, just as Vincent Van Gogh told his brother Theo;

“And mind my dear fellow, Paris is Paris. There is but one Paris and however hard living may be here, and if it became worse and even harder - the french air clears up the brain and does good - a world of good.”

I hope that the days when we will spread out to crowded tables on a sidewalk café and raise our glass to good times are not that far away.

Gülçin Sargın Beşer

More Than Just a City

Paris is probably a way of life. European metropolis, cosmopolitan city, tourist magnet - yes, all that is true, but it does not reflect what is special. What is it that makes this unique?

photo by Volker Kraayvanger

photo by Volker Kraayvanger

If you live here, you feel like you're part of a story - a never-ending story, Paris is never-ending. You can choose who you want to meet - the Sun King, Saint-Saëns or Sartre, each era resonates incessantly in this city, literally sweeping those who engage with it. Yes, the charm of some places and spaces is disenchanted by the countless tourists, but even in everyday life, in some places you are fascinated every time to be part of this city. Maybe not exactly on the days when I stand in the crowded metro. But when I'm in a great restaurant, concert hall or park, definitely. 

 The feeling of strolling through alleys, spontaneously sitting down at a small table on the sidewalk, ordering something, only to think that it had to come just like this. Standing on historical monuments, looking at the sand-colored buildings and imagining how everything looks with horse-drawn carriages, ladies with parasols and gentlemen with top hats. Driving fearlessly into the traffic circle of the Place de l'Etoile, honking the horn and experiencing a spontaneous amnesia of all the traffic rules. Amazing. Finally arrived. 

I hope this feeling of having arrived will return on subsequent visits to Paris. A few weeks after I have already "left" Paris, I return for the first time. By car, alone - for a business trip. In the evening, the rush hour traffic has already died down, I have a hotel near the Église Saint Eustache. Much is familiar, the prominent monuments facilitate orientation, the evening sound of wailing sirens and accelerating scooters penetrates through the half-open window into my car. Everything as always. Exactly as it should be. And I am part of it.

Volker Kraayvanger