I find myself in Paris once again, this time for a video contract over the next 10 days. Karin approached me to work with her in creating several films around this beautiful city, and I have the pleasure of being involved with this amazing personal project of hers.
This is only the second time I’ve been at Basilique du Sacré-Cœur, and both times there’s been weed in the air. I even passed by a man trying to roll a joint while sitting on a park bench, his paper madly flapping in the wind. There must be something really trippy about the church.
I’m doing it better this time. More efficient, lighter luggage. Luckily, I’ve made this trip before and the experience is paying off. Pushing my limits last visit has given me the confidence to handle anything that may happen. I can retrace my steps without a map, remembering where I took what photos on which walks.
It’s definitely tourist season. I look at my photos from last time, and everything is wet.
The man with the guitar on the right was playing old rock classics to a huge audience. It was a like a small busking auditorium.
This couple played quietly together, the girl reading lyrics off her phone. I can only imagine what the sun is doing to the wood of that guitar.
I’m a different person now. Stronger, both mentally and physically. When I walked up the steps of Sacré Cœur, I was accosted again by the string men, except this time I wasn’t confused or scared. When one of them stopped me by using his body to block my path and placed an arm on me to prevent me from moving, my Tai Chi instincts kicked in and I was able to break free, though not without a bit of shuffle.
Maybe I needed some kind of journey to figure out that I’ve changed, and I wouldn’t have known if I didn’t come here again, six months later.
You haven’t truly experienced Paris until you’ve heard the characteristically wheezy notes from an accordion on the streets, and have been given a sour look from a local. Luckily, this was all in the same moment.
Karin has me booked in a quaint little hotel in Montmartre for the first four days, literally a 10 minute walk from Rue Saint Vincent, and just around the corner from Basilique du Sacré-Cœur. I always wondered what it’s like inside these tall buildings.
The view from my room, overlooking a small courtyard, with sexy escapades occasionally happening in the windows across.
It’s the beginning of été here. The sun is hot, but there’s a cool breeze that permeates the open air, chilling you considerably if you’re in the shade. It’s what spring should be, a wonderful feeling I’ve never known as Canada goes from the freezing winter straight to the muggy summer. This must be the best place in the world to experience it.
On rue Saint-Vincent once again, along with ubiquitous Parisian cigarette stub.