Travel Writing in Paris by Helen Ochyra
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There is really only one place qualified to host a writing course in Paris. The Shakespeare and Company bookshop on the left bank has played host to a promenade of penniless writers who have laid their heads, and their notebooks, on its ancient wooden seats. This weekend it is hosting me, and seven others, on a Travellers Tales travel writing course. They’ve chosen the right location – situated smack bang in the middle of the Latin Quarter, Paris's centre of creativity, this inspiring bookshop is ideally placed as a base for soaking up (and writing up) the atmosphere of the city. And what an atmosphere it is.
Across the river on the île de la Cité is the imposing Gothic cathedral of Notre Dame. Around its base relaxed couples walk hand in hand, locals lunch in the park and families with young children enjoy the sandpits. There is a bubbling, lively atmosphere here and plenty to observe. We have been told to wander alone, get close to the most interesting looking people and listen in to their conversations. As I watch a wedding party laugh and pose for photographs, and listen in to a lively Parisian conversation complete with frantic gesturing, I feel as if this might be the home of good writing material.
After a lot of note-taking we retire to a typically Parisian cafe. We are told to sit apart and pay attention to our surroundings. First we must note down what we see, then what we can't see, but can hear, smell and feel. This is new to me. I find it hard at first to close off the signals from my eyes and concentrate on my other senses. But slowly I start to take it all in, and my notes flow more quickly than ever before.
Back at Shakespeare and Company we are told to write a piece about somewhere we have been today. It is an easy choice for me, I write about the cafe. I have never been a note taker before, but now I can see the wisdom behind the tattered notebook of every great writer. The notes I have made are so useful and I feel I can capture the essence of the cafe from the things I noticed. Especially the things I heard. The eight writers in our group all have different hopes and aims, but we can all agree that today has been incredibly useful, unlocking something inside all of us.
Walking back to the hotel, we pass Notre Dame alive with fire. The stunning 14th-century cathedral is lit up by bare-chested male dancers twirling batons of fire in ever-changing arcs of light. Tired tourists, romancing couples and locals heading home all stop and gather round to enjoy the display. This fabulous material proves our first day's lesson: something wonderful can happen at any moment, especially in the city of love.
Paris is a city to soak up, not to rush around, and so we begin the following morning with a leisurely stroll around the bourgeois Marais. This is classic, movie set Paris, and we are told to note down only things unique to the city. I notice neat rows of windows above us, all with tall white wooden shutters and black iron balconies. Everything here is ornate, even the spindly streetlamps seem sophisticated. We pass cafes, all with wicker chairs outside and people sitting under clouds of smoke behind bottles of wine.
Then this enchanting area gets even better. We turn the next corner and find ourselves in Paris's oldest square, the Place de Vosges. It is simply stunning; the sort of place little girls who want to be princesses dream of. It has steeply pitched, dark blue slate roofs, walkways with vaulted ceilings around its base, and creamy red brick walls decorated with a continuous pattern of geometric white stonework.
All our notebooks now full of inspiring notes and our heads alive with ideas, it is time for lunch. We all sit together in one of the vaulted passageways and feast on crepes of all varieties while we digest what we have seen. We all agree that the techniques we have learnt in this inspirational environment have opened our minds and flushed out the all too common writer's block.
There is so much to find in Paris and we have only scratched the surface. This city of romance is also a city of literature. It is so easy to write here. And so, although I know what I have learnt can now work anywhere, before heading home I pay a visit to point zero, in front of Notre Dame. This is the real centre of Paris, the point from which all distances are measured, and the place on which, if I stand, it is said I will one day return to Paris. Here's hoping.
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