Paris Parks, People and Sunshine

Life in a Paris Park

Each Paris park has its own identity. Not a single one, however, remains empty of people at the first hint of sunshine. And, as winter’s grey teeth sink deeper into bitter winds and hard soil, I dream of the next sunny day on which to join throngs of Parisians in the city’s many parks. But even frigid temperatures don’t keep the French out of their parks.

As I write this, despite a thermometer reading in the single digits, I hear the sounds of children playing in the park behind my building. This phenomenon leaves me stunned and gleeful.

In fact, as long as there’s not a torrential downpour or (far less likely) blizzard, Parisians use their open spaces. Throw sunshine into the mix? Well, then, Parisians flood any open, grass-covered space onto which they are allowed. Notably, permission is important.

Stay Off the Grass

Parisian grass needs just as much downtime as the humans in this city. Each autumn, signs go up in each Paris park, with reminders to stay off the grass. It must be allowed some necessary beauty sleep. The signs are obeyed!

Parisians honor “Do Not Step On” requests for the length of their duration. This is in exchange for a few months of jubilant picnics, frisbee throwing, canoodling and other grass-flattening activities, beginning in late spring. Some grassy spaces are never open to trampling feet. Not a single person tempts fate.

Redefine Recreation in the Paris Park

More shocking than the quantity of Parisians entering the parks around town is the way in which they “use” them.

Before blissfully falling for the Parisian way of life, I associated parks with one of two things: children or objectives. Children play in parks. Adults attain objectives in them. This is the American way. Recreational activities, for example, which require lists, measures of achievement and sweat. Or parties, announced with tissue paper flags and color-coordinated, paper kitchen supplies. Visits are timed. And then justified, with accompanying guilt or proof of discipline.

Adult Parisians, on the other hand, experience parks the same way they experience everything else…with pleasure. They have perfected the art of doing nothing, with class. Things as “ludicrous” as reading a physical book on a park bench, or counting clouds, or simply sharing a bottle of wine — using real wine glasses, of course — with friends, for unmonitored hours, happen regularly.

It’s enough to cause any unsuspecting expat a panic attack. Or a deep-seated conviction that Parisians can teach us a thing or two about how to live life.