Today is the second day of snow in Paris. Today it is sticking to trees, to plant life and bushes, roof tops and bus stops. It is glorious.
When I was a young college student, there would always be snow in winter here in Paris. Six inches to eighteen inches. Then and now, it is other-worldly. Men with roasters and large platters of roasted chestnuts would stand at the end of any of Paris’s many bridges. They would take a page of newsprint, double it over then roll it into a cone. Into the cone would plop fifteen or so hot chestnuts. Holding them would be warmer than your glove. Imagine a twenty year old American girl who loved to daydream crossing the river Seine, hot chestnuts in hand, snow flurries adhering the fantasy daydream.
Today, I have to go to one of the many French administrative offices to deal with my impots d’habitation. I don’t believe we have a tax for renters in the US. They are similar to what cities require hotels to tack on to our bills (and now, of course, AirBnB has to do the same thing). I could take the metro and be warmer or I could walk a little further and catch the 63 bus. I’ve been here four years and three months. I haven’t seen snow in Paris until today. This choice is a no brainer.
It is very grey and the closer the bus gets to the river, the less the snow is sticking. The Eiffel Tower was large and dark in the grey sky. The bus moves through the city easily. There isn’t much traffic today.
I thought perhaps I was the only one enchanted by the snow falling. I hear it has mucked up traffic outside of Paris and tourists cannot take any boat rides on the river because of the flooding. At least they could walk around all day. Probably not today unless they want to get very cold and very wet.
I met my friend, Fatiha, at St. Sulpice where my administrative office is. She assured me that I was not alone. She loved the snow. Just not enough to walk outside a lot. When I arrived home, I was very wet and very cold.