The tourists are coming. Each week, I hear more and more English on the metro. Middle-aged couples in fanny packs and shorts are multiplying like bunnies, along with a large smattering of dirty hippy types with their massive backpacks, (camera) trigger-happy Japanese and increasing numbers of strapping German families who look like they've been taking growth hormones.
I knew it would happen. Paris will never be without tourists, but the colder weather of winter had kept the hordes to minimal levels until recently.
Now, as conditions warm and spring dawns, the real onslaught begins. Like cold-blooded reptilians who only become active when basked in sunlight, the once lethargic vacationers are working themselves into a sightseeing frenzy as the skies over Paris clear.
If that analogy seems a little harsh, it's because I can't help but to have absorbed a little bit of the snide, sarcastic Parisian who scoffs at befuddled tourists.
As someone who lives in Paris, even for as short a period as five months, I somehow have developed a slight superiority complex in regards to those ephemeral tourists, who will never "truly know" Paris.
Armed with middling French skills and the slow accretion of knowledge that comes from living in a place for an extended period of time, I've come to feel that I comprehend Paris in ways that the average tourist, with his head in a guidebook, never will.
In reality, however, the tourists don't deserve such a smirking, condescending assessment, as I recently learned when I had some visitors of my own to entertain. My friends had never visited Paris before, and on their agenda were all the typical Paris sights and monuments. Rolling my eyes at their predictability, I set off begrudgingly on a tour.
I realized quickly that despite my extended stay in Paris, I had blindly passed by or ignored so much of what makes Paris great. Yes, I had visited the Louvre before, and even had a student card granting unlimited free entry, but walking through again I realized how vast the museum was, and how I had casually missed so much of it, promising myself that I had all semester to come back and see it.
Strolling through the Louvre's huge courtyard (the one with the glass pyramid) at sunset, I was greeted with one of the most beautiful views I had ever seen, and one which I had neglected to notice until now.
The Eiffel Tower was also obviously an obligatory stop. Although I frequently glimpse the tip of the Eiffel from my neighborhood directly across from it, I had forgotten how shockingly impressive the delicate steel crisscrosses and the immensity of the hulking tower look from the marble terrace of the Palais de Chaillot.
Later, walking directly underneath the tower, I was diverted by a group of Hare Krishnas, who were singing and chanting without any self-consciousness whatsoever. In the blur of their wild dancing, I glimpsed the faces of people who looked truly happy.
I'm not one for joining meditative sects, but if I was, I might join theirs. The contrast between their reckless abandon and the sheer immovability of the tower reminded me that Paris always has the ability to surprise.
Strolling down the Champs Elys?©es, walking along the banks of the Seine, enjoying the compact pleasure of a macaron from the famous Ladur?©e tea salon or a crepe with Nutella from a street vendor - these may have been the most obvious and clich?© things to do in Paris, but I realized that I didn't at all mind doing them. In fact, I loved it.
While my haughty inner Parisian may cringe at the thought of the coming tourist infestation, in truth the tourists are one of the best indicators of what's best about Paris.
They are ambitious, efficient creatures who want to see everything, and they don't care if it's clich?©d or not. Like someone who has been given a few months to live, they rush from one sight to the next, attempting to conquer this infinitely complex city in just a few days.
I myself had become a bit too jaded. I was living in Paris but had fallen into the typical routine of school and sleep, ignoring the beauty in front of my face. After all, the more touristy places in Paris are famous for a reason: because most of them are generally amazing.
The tourists may never "know" Paris as a resident knows Paris, but there is no shame in the title. In fact, their all-encompassing enthusiasm, their desire to absorb everything and anything at once is more admirable than anything.
You can pass the Eiffel Tower every day and not notice it, but until you see a friend's face genuinely fill with awe and excitement at the sight of it (and then 100 Facebook pictures of the same thing), it's easy to forget the privilege of living in Paris.
In truth, a semester abroad is limited and quickly diminishing, and perhaps I'd do better to consider myself the glorified tourist I really am.
Adam Winograd is a junior majoring in international relations. He can be reached at adam.winograd@tufts.edu.
