The timing was perfect. As I rounded the corner onto the Champs-Elysées last week, I heard Nat King Cole’s voice through my earphones, swooping spectacularly on the phrase “Chestnuuuuts roasting on an open fire…”. The Champs-Elysées was festooned in holiday finery, and the smell of fresh sapin (Christmas tree) was wafting over to me from every direction. It is Christmastime in Paris, and I am in love.
I was in Strasbourg on Friday, self-described as the “capitale de Noël,” for the legendary Christmas market. Between taking pictures of the magnificent decorations and the Santa-clad band playing in front of their famous cathedral, I barely managed to feel the cold.
Strasbourg might take the prize for overwhelming Christmas spirit, but Paris isn’t doing too shabbily, itself. My walk home takes me past the Notre Dame cathedral every day, which means I was present for the erection and subsequent decoration of the enormous Christmas tree out front, which has become the backdrop for every tourist’s photo as they start to arrive in droves for a holiday season in Paris.
Everywhere you look you can see Parisians in their winter uniforms of highly stylish peacoat and scarf hurrying down the streets to avoid feeling the nipping cold. As soon as they enter the warmth of a café, their shoulders fall and relax. Maybe it’s just my own Christmas-fuddled imagination speaking, but the holiday mood seems to have mellowed out this city’s residents. There are more smiles from strangers, more people holding open doors for you as you leave the metro after them.
If I have to say goodbye to Paris so soon (five days, I can’t believe it), at least the Paris I'll be leaving is the one I most want to remember.
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