(TAN): Summer is officially over in this part of the world. The rains have started, the mercury is falling, the Paris supermarkets have stopped stocking ice cubes, the leaves are nearly at the end of their lives.
The long cold nights are just around the corner and the evenings are getting quieter. Evenings in Paris, without swarms of tourists have been one of the highlights of this summer. Social distancing meant less people, more privacy. With the sun setting around 10 pm, and the Eiffel starting to light up after dusk at 11pm, summer evenings were long, to say the least.
Paris wakes up to the smell of bread and viennoiserie, morning smells nearly the same every day. Just like evenings in Kolkata, smelling of rotis being made at roadside shops and homes — be it a small alley in the north or a posh neighbourhood in the south, the city bathes in the aroma.
Paris might not have a specific evening aroma but it definitely has a hum. People having picnics, the restaurants opening for dinner service, bars getting busier, music playing from all corners of the city. The hum gets louder as the evening sets in… the river has its share of party boats and Michelin starred restaurants on the water with people watching the sun end another day.
Dusk, the magical time between day and night. The time when the sun bathes the world in its golden shower before retiring for the day. The time where the light is perfect to highlight beauty and hide flaws. A moment of rest before night takes over. The perfect time to grab that place on the stairs of Sacre Coeur, or spread out the aperitifs at Trocadero gardens.
In Kolkata, it’s the time when the city gets back from work, curses the traffic and grabs that Kathi roll. The streets get busier, the city lights up one house at a time. Paris lights up one street at a time. As the golden hour wanes, the soft yellow street lights make their presence felt. The street musicians start tuning, the night begins its Parisian adventure.
Winter brings quieter and shorter dusks, with night falling in an instant. The French got it right when they coined the words ‘la nuit tombe’, the night is falling. It feels like the night tiptoes around till it finds its place on one of the many bridges of the city, watches the city dress up for another evening of youth — much like the way night waits with chai and cigarettes in Kolkata. It almost feels like Paris renews itself every evening, feels like it lives for this time of the day, while Kolkata, waits to reset itself for the next day.
If anything is the same, it’s the kids playing. Parks in Paris, streets in Kolkata. The perfect time to be a little brighter before burning out.
The author is a student of patisserie at Le Cordon Bleu, Paris.
You can follow her on Instagram and Facebook.
