365 Wow Places:
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Wow Place #273: Paris Metro
“Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived.”
–Helen Keller
Years ago, as an exchange student in Paris my junior year of college, the soundtrack for my trip was The Smiths. You remember them, right — that great English rock band fronted by the highly-depressing Morrissey, with songs like “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” and “What Difference Does it Make?” I listened to the lugubrious Smiths nearly everywhere I went in the City of Lights, mostly because it was one of the few cassettes I’d actually brought with me. Now, if you watched the exuberant Olympics earlier this month, you might be thinking that the Smiths and Paris just don’t mix. But considering that it was January when I arrived in Paris – dark and rainy nearly every day – the Smiths’ melancholy musings felt just about right for me at that time and place in my life.
Interestingly, when I listen to the Smiths today, they don’t particularly help me recall my memories of Paris… which is strange, because I listened to them ALL the time! No, what really takes me back to the French capital is a specific smell – the smell of the Paris Metro.
It’s not an easy smell to describe. Kind of musty. Stuffy perhaps. Airless. It’s not a bad smell like, say, a stinky locker room. It’s just…the Metro. And every time I visit Paris and step into a subway station, wham – there’s that smell – and suddenly I’m 20 years old again, transported back to a specific time and place and mood in my life. I’m dodging puddles on the way to my classroom on the Avenue Victor-Hugo. I’m hurrying to class at the Sorbonne. I’m walking up the steps of the Centre Pompidou to look for a book I need at the library. That’s the power of smell; more than any of the other five senses, it connects you directly with your long-ago memories.
Not that I need an excuse to take a ride on the Paris Metro, mind you. Unlike say, the Tokyo subway, where one station looks almost exactly like the next, the Paris Metro exemplifies the French aesthetic. Each station has its own character. Many of them are exquisitely decorated to reflect what you find at that particular stop.
Take, for example, Arts Et Metiers (lines 3 & 11), home of the eponymous Musee Arts et Metiers. Redesigned in 1994 by Belgian artist Francois Schuiten, the station has been converted into a copper-clad, submarine complex, complete with brass portholes a la Jules Verne. Can you say steampunk, Parisian style?
Or Abbesses (line 12), an art nouveau metro station from start to finish – beautifully tiled throughout and showcasing a variety of large, eye-popping, water-color murals along its elegant, winding staircase.
Or Bastille (lines 1, 5 and 8), highlighted by remains of the old building along with lovely paintings depicting scenes from French history (including the storming of the Bastille, natch).
And let’s not forget Cluny-Sorbonne, featuring a 4,300-square-foot mosaic, “Les Oiseaux” (the Birds) on the ceiling of the platform. Created by Jean Bazaine, the artwork is surrounded by signatures of 50 luminaries who lived and worked in the area, including Victor Hugo, Descartes, Sartre and Moliere.
The list goes on.
I absolutely adore the Paris Metro. I love all the moving sidewalks at Chatelet and Montparnasse. I’m intrigued by the giant coins on the wall at Pont Neuf – La Monnaie. I’m delighted by the Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen from the French Revolution, rendered in toto on the walls – all 44,000 tiles worth.
But most of all, I love, love, love the evocative, memory-inducing smell, that never fails to connect me to my youth.
(What smells bring you back to your earlier days? Is it the smell of a childhood teddy bear? An old, musty sweater? Your mom’s apple pie? Whatever it is, the next time you smell it, take out a notebook and jot down what memories you can capture. And if you have adult kids, be vigilant for what odors have the same effect for them. Because reliving your life through your children is what having kids is all about, right?)