Paris after dark

We had not seen Paris after dark until our exit from the Louvre. It was the end of our third full day, and we were starting to feel a comfort level in the city. We were developing a sense of where we were on the map at any given time, and we knew how to get home. We had heard the usual cautions about the city’s dark side, but they could not stand up to the appeal of the city’s bright side after dark. From the Louvre, we caught the Metro down to the Place de la Concorde.

The huge oval, with its signature obelisk, is the most open space in Paris. Views are wide open to the west, south and east. To the west, curving slightly uphill away from us, according to the rising arc of the street lights, was the Champs-Elysees. We had been at the other end, in daylight, at the Arc de Triomphe. Looking at it from this end, after dark, was a completely different experience.

Paris has a city official whose sole duty is to illuminate the city after dark. I read a feature story about him one morning in the International Herald Tribune. His busiest time is at the Christmas season, when the city’s illuminations are at their most extravagant. Karen was not at all happy that her camera battery had gone dead. South of the Arc de Triomphe was the Eiffel Tower. It is always lit at night, but at Christmastime, every hour on the hour, sparkling lights, like you see on a Christmas tree but much brighter, are fired off for 10 minutes. The tower looked like a fireworks sparkler.

Behind us in the distance, Notre Dame was illuminated. Directly behind us, on the east perimeter of the Place de la Concorde, was a huge ferris wheel, brightly lit. The view from the top must have been fantastic, but you would not have gotten me on that ferris wheel for all the Euros in Europe. I don’t remember seeing any airplanes while we were there. Small planes, I mean. On clear days to the north, airliners were visible on their ascent out of Charles de Gaulle, and if you were on an airliner departing at dusk, and you were sitting on the left-hand side on a clear night, the view of the Paris lights must have been worth the ticket.

But no small planes, no Cessnas so common above urban America. No helicopters. I Googled “Paris aerial tours.” No hits. Maybe there’s a ban. I Googled “Paris from space at night.” No hits. Somebody is missing a good bet. To our south were the buildings on the Left Bank, all illuminated. All the bridges across the Seine were illuminated. The river itself was illuminated by the reflections, the movement of the water slicing the light into strokes of color. It was truly modern art. None of the masters of light in the museums, none of the Impressionists, saw Paris like this.

Yet Paris makes such an impression in artificial light. Apparently the only artist working in that medium is the city official I read about. And Karen, smitten by Paris after dark, and a dead camera around her neck. Every night thereafter, when we got home, the battery went into the charger before the coat came off her back.