Written by Nick Rodricks• October 5, 2010• 5:16 pm• Blogs, Camels Abroad

The Paris Joy Initiative

This marks week one of what I am referring to as “The Paris Joy Initiative.” That’s right, I am personally bent on injecting joy into this city. Don’t get me wrong, Parisians know how to throw down with the best of them but they also know how to look miserable better than any nationality on earth. While the rest of the world was learning about “Cancer Sticks” and “Nicotine patches,” Parisians were smoking three packs a day in hopes that it might accelerate the end of their seemingly miserable lives. Of course this all backfired when they realized that American’s were dying, not because of Winston but because of fast food and cholesterol. What happened next? Parisians imported McDonald’s, of course, in hopes that a Big Mac might do the trick.

No, I’m kidding. Parisians are wonderful people who simply need a hug. That is my ultimate conclusion and I’m sticking to it.

I will not be handing out free hugs (not my style) but I will be holding doors, smiling as often as possible, giving up my seat on the metro to any woman over 18 years of age and perhaps, here is the real killer, even making conversation with strangers…. The point is to brighten the day of one person as often as I can throughout my day. You know, it’s a pay it forward type deal.

People actually live in houses like this in Giverny. The last time I saw a house like that a Smurf was living in it.

The idea came to me upon a visit to Giverny, the former home of some painter named Monet and a lovely little town just outside of Paris. We were thoroughly lost as soon as we stepped off of the train, 6 American college students in search of Monet’s “Maison.” All of a sudden lighting struck. After just three minutes of aimless wandering a little woman came over to us and gave us directions. Unsolicited help like this is practically unheard of in Paris but go just one hour outside and people are suddenly all warm and fuzzy. Thus the birth of the Paris Joy Initiative. That little lady has no idea what she started. I was bringing her back to Paris with me.

Givery and Monet’s garden were just as splendid as that little woman. If I had lived in Monet’s house I’m pretty sure I would have become a painter too. Or maybe a gardener…either way I was astounded by the intensity of the garden. I’m not one to stop and smell the roses but hey, we all find our soft side at some point. It was great to dwell in a town more natural than artificial, even if just for a few hours.

Paris and Giverny are vastly different towns. Paris is fast and beautiful and cutthroat. If you’re not prepared for it it can leave you penniless and winded. Giverny, on the other hand, is soft, beautiful and works at a different pace, one slower and more calculated, a pace meant for casual walks on damp cobblestone. Each place has its own type of serenity, its own rhythm that defines it. I can be sarcastic and critical of Paris but it is truly a magnificent place of light and movement of mystery and grace. Giverny and Paris are perfect examples of the balance that we so often take for granted. The world cannot be all soft flowers and roses or solely cold women in heels sprinting for the subway, we need both to help us appreciate either. Leaving Paris helped me to understand why France was worth painting. Returning to it helped me understand why sometimes you need to run to catch a train.