Memories made of (s)miles

Paris. You would think I would start off with the „We will always have Paris“ sentence. Oh, come on, you can never claim the right of ownership of a city like Paris. Or any city for that matter. I actually feel it is the big cities that own me, and not the other way around. I just owe them. A lot.
Paris had me at „Salut“. It was not just about the Tour Eiffel, Versailles or Louvre. Paris slipped languidly into my memories through the rustle of Seine, misty colours of impressionist paintings and the sight of the Sun melting solemnly into the smoggy horizon.
What I love about travelling is the way I grow as a person with every new mile of a discovered territory. In Paris I felt my soul stretching over its large squares and wide avenues, like a sound from an instrument crossing air without obstacles – until bumping into the first car that came out of nowhere. Seriously, people in Paris must be born with an alien kind of spatial intelligence; I see no other explanation as to how the traffic manages to function without anyone getting hurt. Maybe because all the really frustrated people take the subway? Paris subway – major cultural shock that actually was not so shocking. What my stretching soul learned there was that on the basic level, people everywhere are the same; they snap in the same situations and start panicking. For couple of moments I actually missed being stalked by an illegal immigrant trying to sell me little Eiffel towers. Do not get me wrong, I will not remember Paris only by the weird people that I know I can meet daily back home in Croatia, but they too helped complete my already colourful experience. Generally speaking, meeting people is what makes travelling worthwhile. That is why one of my favourite Paris memories is talking to a young man Eric, watching him shrug away sceptically at the sight of the Louvre pyramid and thinking how easy it is to talk to anyone; not just because half of the world speaks English, but because languages, curiosity and enthusiasm allow you to cross much more borders than your passport does.
Although some of the memories I am left with today when reminiscing upon my trip to Paris are those related to its dreamy architecture, most memories are not sights and photographs, but rather a certain impalpable feeling of a laid back atmosphere, wideness of streets welcoming my daydreams and feelings, and people I had the opportunity to talk to.
Trust me; it is not about the Eiffel tower and the hard-to-see Mona Lisa painting, talking about them would be so – touristy.
If ever, go to Paris just to take a walk down the street. Any street.