Carnet de Voyage: Another View of Paris 

Travel notes from the real France. Carnet de Voyage is a weekly personal travel story in France sent in by readers. If you’d like to write a story for Carnet de Voyage, head here for details on how to submit.

Sidewalk cafés in Paris are iconic. Tables and chairs face the street so people can drink their coffee and watch other people go by. It’s leisurely and enjoyable.   

But there are other places to watch from too, and other things to see in Paris. We were staying in a studio apartment on the fifth floor of a building on Quai des Grands Augustins, near Pont Neuf. It looks across the river at Ile de la Cité, one of the two islands in the Seine. We had a great view of the river, the buildings directly across, and a stairway leading down from Quai des Orfèvres to the pedestrian walkway along the water. Sturdy benches rest at intervals and a row of trees stand close to the retaining wall.

Every early morning, we enjoyed coffee by the window and watched the activity in the river and on the pedestrian walkway. Little green trucks would appear, ambling along, sweeping and picking up debris. People walked their dogs. Men threw fishing lines into the water. Police boats chugged by, sending snorkelers off the side, searching for something. 

One morning, earlier than early, we observed a flock of pigeons take up residence under the tree closest to the stairway. Many, many pigeons. They hunkered down there, strutting a bit out toward the river but always returning to the tree. Nothing and no one seemed to bother them. They fluttered only slightly when a man ran down the stairs to rail at them. He shouted and flapped a white shopping bag. A few pigeons fluttered upwards at that, then fluttered back down. A little black dog off leash barked furiously and ran right into them. They rose up in a feathered flurry at that insult, but returned to their place around the tree when the dog ran off. 

In the evening, we saw that the flock of pigeons had gone. But another flock had taken up residence. A group of people were there now, standing beside the tree, sitting on the bench, and dangling their legs over the bank. Laughing and talking. We could see them and hear their voices across the water. The river looked different too as the tourist boats rumbled along, momentarily bathing the buildings in light. Many voices in many languages rose into the evening air. 

It’s oddly quiet later at night. But in the morning, earlier than early, the pigeons returned. And we watched them from our window across the Seine. 

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