The waiter brings me my the au lait (tea with milk). The milk is warm and foamy while the tea is nice and hot. The tea service is made out of beautiful white porcelain and the saucers have delicate orange flowers painted on them. By just sitting and watching, I get a glimpse into the Parisian life. And then every once in a while, I see the oddity, like a woman riding a bike wearing a skirt and three inch spiked heals.

While the younger generation dresses more casually in jeans and trendy t-shirts, the older men and women are dressed perfectly. Women over 60 always wear pantyhose, a long skirt, flat shoes, a classically tied scarf, and a knee-length jacket. The men wear nice slacks, polished loafers, long coats and on occasion, a scarf. The go about their morning shopping, loaded down with groceries, bread, and flowers. The younger generation is quite fashionable in their stylish, pointy-toed shoes, tailored jackets, the latest jeans, and elaborately tied scarves. In one hand they have a cigarette and in the other, a cell phone.

When I first arrived in Paris, I was surprised to see that no one was wearing color. Black, brown, grey, and navy are standard. Evidently Parisians don’t dream of wearing colors like pink, blue, greens, and oranges until the sun is shining. I’ve been told that Parisians get quite depressed here in the winter and dress accordingly. A rather sad thought. I did notice, however, that on the first really nice sunny day, I saw red – and lots of it. It was like a citywide proclamation was issued that all people wear red on the same day. Now that the weather has been warmer, I see more tans, creams and even whites. But still no color.

My eyes scan the street. An occasional culinary student crosses the street in his or her uniform. We’re not really supposed to wear them outside the school, but no one really pays attention to that rule. Nannies casually walk down the street pushing strollers and herding little ones. Most of the nannies are foreign from lands in the southern hemisphere. I wonder what their experience of Paris has been like. Is it anything like mine?

Before I came over, I read a very enlightening book called French or Foe? written by American who has lived in Paris for 20 years. She gives lots of advise for Americans and English living and working in Paris. The first thing she divulges in her book is that when Parisians walk down the street, they don’t smile at one another. As I gaze out the café window, I realize this is really true. When walking down the street, one adopts a stone-faced gaze. You don’t smile at those who pass you nor do you say hello. At first I find this quite strange, but I realize it’s because French people are quite wary of strangers. A few people do stop and greet each other with the double kiss on the cheek.

As I swallow my last drop of tea I realize what an amazing city this is. I’m thankful to be experiencing it to the fullest.

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