My tour, by the way, can be diffentiated from other "English speaking" tours of Paris by the sheer magnitude of pastry I will force you to consume and the quasi-useful, always fragmented, historical knowledge I will impart to you at random.
The thing is that I feel it is my duty to make certain that no one returns to United States soil feeeling anything but absolute adoration and amazement at this city.
It has occurred to me that if I had been half as ambitious when I worked for that matchmaking company a few years ago, the city of Charleston would probably currently boast higher marriage rates.
Anyway, what my problem is surrounding this issue of wanting/needing people to love Paris, I cannot really say. And because I have not actually figured out how my health insurance works over here and/or what precisely is covered, I cannot go to a therapist to really get to the bottom of things. What I do know is that this tendency has not previously revealed itself. Whether or not people actually like my environs seemed inconsequential to me when I was living on U.S. soil.
In fact, there have been times when I was not even sure I liked my environs. If you want proof of this declaration, see the "Onset 2005-2007" files. We basically lived in this would-be adorable seaside village that was located in the purgatory of Massachusetts that sits not exactly on Cape Cod, but is not really a contributing part of the "mainland" either. The town, which had more potential than Thai from Clueless, never blossomed while we resided there. Other than a rather top-notch pizza place and some lovely neighbors, the place revealed itself as a disappointing haven for tatoo parlors, alcoholism, and loitering teeenagers (one of the top five things I fear in life). A shame, really given that it was on a gorgeous harbor and really could have BEEN something. It needed a busload of Chers, but still, the potential was there.
However, when people came to visit us while we were in Onset, I just assumed that they wanted to visit us. Whether or not they liked the town was up to them. And, while many people love Charleston (our more recent "home"), it is true that the city is a whole other kettle of fish--particularly for most of our New England-dwelling friends and family. Many people take issue with the fact that it is hot as Hades down there for a good chunk of the year and the whole Southern drawl, with its drawn-out consonants can be a bit grating/confusing for people who have not heard an "r" properly pronounced anytime in recent memory. I adore the place and find it quirky, artsy, and gorgeous, so no problem for me if you like it or not.
With Paris, however, whenever we have a visit pending or one currently occuring, I turn into this Dr. Jekyl person who is part weird preachy tour guide, and part Mr. Hyde who is sitting back with baited breath waiting for our visitors to share with me their newest revelations about the AMAZING city of Paris. The fact of the matter is that our guests probably do leave Paris with a certain affinity for the city. And such is likely accompanied by a newfound distaste for yours truly. As in: "Another croissant? Can this girl lay off?"
The irony is that Paris--with its amazing architecture, incredible and varied art, and delectable cuisine--largely speaks for itself. So why I feel the need to speak for it is a tad strange.
I think perhaps, it comes down to the fact that, in America, it is a sort of sport to compare stories about how one was verbally abused by the French while visiting Paris. Like, if you had a POSITIVE experience, you better not admit to such because you will quickly be ousted from the game. And I really dislike the whole overplayed joke that goes something like, "Oh I love Paris! I just hate the French." This "original" piece of hilarity is invariably followed by some back thumping and overly-hearty chuckling.
Well, I have news for all you joke-tellers: the French are what makes Paris, Paris. Hello! Don't you like having "native" people here to ensure that the caliber of food remains high, and that the soul of the city remains intact? Would you prefer L.A., a city from where it seems no one actually originated, where everyone seems to have been beamed in from big-boobed, bulging-bicep, bobble-head land?
No Offense, L.A. in general, and Rob in particular.
Anyway, I suppose I feel this need to overcome the overdone stereotyping in which Americans engage when speaking about Paris. Probably because I also bought into these stereotypes at one point, and thus the "turn-around" has been all the more potent for me. But people will like what they like, and I cannot force people the people I love to love Paris, though I sure hope they will.
I can force them to eat pastries though. So if you are headed over here to see us, bring your appetite.
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