When I went to Paris for the first time in 1984, all I knew of the city was from pictures in textbooks or travel guides, and scenes from movies or documentaries or travelogues. Everything I saw was new. I remember getting off the plane at Orly and being taken by the telephone booth. The phone was so different from ours. The first two Es sported acute accents. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Every street. Every shop. Every signpost. Every object. Surprises were everywhere. It was sensory heaven. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Today, though, there are so many sources of information. Thousands of images document public and not-so-public spaces. Faraway places become familiar with a mouse click. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I think back to my first 24 hours in Paris, there were some things I would have benefited from knowing in advance: how to buy things in a department store, how to navigate francs and centimes. But if I had known how to use coins, I would have missed out on one of my most memorable interactions: the clerk in a small stationery shop on Blvd. du Montparnasse stopped what she was doing, pulled out a coin rack and gave me a lesson in how the coin system worked. I was never confused again. Needless to say I bought all my notebooks, paper, pens and pencils there for the rest of the year!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As I’m learning about Japan and Kyoto, I’m grateful to know certain things. Knowing there are strict rules regarding trash disposal and recycling, as well as etiquette will save me embarrassment. Finding a running path close to my apartment is very helpful to know in advance. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
But I still want to be surprised by the little things. It will be a delicate balance to strike.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
When I went to Paris for the first time in 1984, all I knew of the city was from pictures in textbooks or travel guides,…<\/p>\n