HARD CELL

"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”

Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

We were in Paris last month. We’ve been going pretty much yearly for the last 25 years. Hemingway’s words ring so true. Though I might add that if you are lucky enough to have eaten a croissant in Paris, then that, too, will stay with you, for croissants remain in your teeth.

I have such a clear visual of our first trip to Paris. Cory was spending his junior semester abroad in Edinburgh. We wanted to visit him during his spring break. But Scotland in March didn’t appeal to us weather-wise. So we decided that we’d meet in Paris. Howard, Tracy and I arrived before Cory. We took a walk, wandering aimlessly. I remember the early morning sun making the streets of Paris glisten, wet from early morning cleaning. How civilized and beautiful! Unexpectedly, we found ourselves in front of Notre Dame. The Hunchback of Notre Dame is one of my favorite books/movies. I could visualize Quasimodo rescuing Esmerelda, shouting “Sanctuary!” It was so real in my head that it made me teary. When Cory finally arrived, we had lunch in a little bistro. I was so tired from the long flight and being on hyper-alert for Cory’s arrival that I thanked the server when he brought our food. “Gracias”, I said. And I don’t even speak Spanish.

During that first visit, we were awestruck by the city’s beauty and the special ambience that makes it so perfect. The gorgeous 1893 glass dome at Galeries Lafayette, the magical department store where Picasso first caught sight of his lifelong muse, Marie-Therese Walter. The Marais—the Jewish quarter, with the best potato pancakes I've ever eaten. Walking the streets of Montmartre, where we could amble through that magical place where artists at the turn of the 20th century worked and played. And there, we could look out over the rooftops to see the glory that is the city of Paris. 

Tracy also spent her junior semester abroad in Paris. She was excited, but worried—would her French family beat her? Too much Les Miz. But she was so lucky to have been placed with a French family who was just perfect. We visited her during her spring break and took her to the Eiffel Tower for lunch on her 21st birthday. We were seated by the window, looking out over the expanse that is Paris. Tracy's French began to sound native. She rescued me when I was trying to buy cosmetics and the rude salesperson kept saying “Quoi?” (“What?”) My French isn’t great, but it’s passable, and at that moment, the woman was just being nasty. That’s really not typical—usually if you’re making an effort, the French will work with you and appreciate that effort. I was so impressed when Tracy jumped in and seamlessly got the deal done. Under my breath, I said “vache” (cow). I would have preferred to say it out loud, but I was trying to honor the French code of “La Politesse”, a kind of formal and formatted approach to good manners. Which brings me to today’s issue.

Cell phones. They’re certainly not specific to French culture, but on our last visit, they definitely took over the streets. Streets that had so much charm turned into obstacle courses. As we walked, people walked towards us, staring at the cell phones in their hands and not caring if they walked right into us. This rude and annoying habit struck me more during this last trip than it had before. Part of this problem in Paris that makes the experience more notable than in other cities is that many of the streets in Paris are very narrow, so it’s difficult to traverse the city without having someone bang into you. But more importantly, it was constant—really constant. There wasn’t a street where we didn’t have to dodge people who were cellphone obsessed.

I do know that I’m a dinosaur and prefer the old times to these tech obsessed times. And I know that I’m pretty much alone in that feeling, although Howard does agree. Sometimes I think that it’s just because I’m sort of an old lady. Okay—maybe I’m really an old lady. But regardless, I’d rather see what’s around me than make love to a phone. But it astonishes me that no one says “Pardonne-moi”or "Excusez moi". No, they just keep walking. Maybe they look up and give you a look that says “what’s the problem”. Or, more often, they just look confused or apathetic when they bump into you or when I say “Excusez moi” in a tone that means “EXCUSEZ VOUS!” But I don’t think that I’ve managed to teach anyone new age tech manners. I’m sad to say that I’m just pretty much in the minority.

There really isn’t anything that I can think of that will change this new world mindset obsession with tech, especially cell phones. And I know that I have to live in this new world. But to me, it’s sad that the focus on cell phones can blur what is special in the surroundings. And certainly that focus also diminishes civility. Eyes on phone, missing the charms of Paris and neglecting consideration for other people. Nonetheless, isn’t there a compromise? I don’t know. I just know that our technology is outstripping our humanity. 

HEY! LOOK UP FROM YOUR CELL PHONE! THERE ARE PEOPLE AND PLACES TO SEE! AND IF YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT THOSE PEOPLE AND PLACES, JUST AT LEAST MIND YOUR MANNERS!