Banks Of Seine Return To Parisians And A Bit Of Cheese

Paris would never be Paris without the Seine.  Paris was birthed in the middle of it, on Ile de la Cité, one of the most prominent islands that dot along the whole river.

The banks of the Seine, called quais in French, have now officially returned back to Parisians, who were deprived many years of the majority of them that cradle this beautiful city of lights.

This mythical river that strategically divides the city nurtured the daily life of early Parisians and still remains the crux of delighting residents and tourists, seeking to soak up all of her beauty.

Young lovers struck in loving embraces form part of the scenery as well as the old fishermen lazily whiling away their cares staring at their bobbing baits hoping for a strike.

I never tire of walking along the quais just to take in all of the beauty and feel the constant river breezes in my face.

At night the Seine transforms into a colourful feast for the eyes with rippling ruffles of golden light that shimmer along by the fast moving current.

In 1964, the Georges Pompidou thoroughfare opened allowing cars to zoom past on the banks of the Seine.

 

Certainly, it provided great views for drivers, but in doing so robbed Parisians of their beloved quais that had been enjoyed since the millennium.

Besides the increasing pollution, that has become a menace to Parisians and all the monuments, I always thought it was a real eyesore.

Paris Plages, started over 10 years ago, became the only time a part of the left bank quai was blocked to cars for Parisians to enjoy in August.

Major Anne Hildago, who has doggedly pushed for measures to decrease pollution, started to fight to return both banks of the Seine back to Parisians!

It was an uphill fight, fraught with constant belligerent criticism mainly from the powerful Automobile club of Paris.

I might add that this rather elite club of good ole boys had its heyday at the turn of the century when cars were first introduced onto Parisian streets, and only those wealthy enough to afford them could join.

Strangely it has remained a vocal strongpoint of Parisian society. Their swanky club serves more like a country club, rather than anything else.

Their major complaint was that it added “unmeasurable” time for automobilists getting into the city.

Later on, the mayors of several Parisian suburbs joined it to denounce the closing, saying the rerouting of all those cars were now polluting their towns.

The automobile lobby then complained about the Périphérique, the thoroughfare that encircles Paris, was becoming slow and often clogged.

At one time the court said the closure of the banks was not valid, but Major Hildago prevailed and in October,  it was declared that they were awarded Unesco World Heritage protected status.

The other Sunday there was a celebration of the event as well as a cheese festival going on too! A lot to cram in a Sunday afternoon, which happens often here.

Besides the activities planned, such as the Philharmonic of Paris playing alongside the popular bar barge, the Marcounet, they were giving away free plants and bulbs.

I was hoping to walk away with at least one plant,  but as I was walking through the Sunday bird market towards the ramp Pont Marie, I was astonished to see people carrying huge trays of plants!

The cheese festival in front of Hotel de Ville would have to wait, till I could get to the plants, deemed more important than cheese!

The line wasn’t too long and after I collected my crate filled with primaveras. It became obvious that I certainly wasn’t going to walk around carrying a heavy load of plants to the cheese fest!

The only solution was to rush back to my place to put them on the balcony and head back.  A 12-minute subway ride each way from Ile de la Cité was easy enough.

Walking back to catch the subway, I caught a swarm of seagulls circling around, swooping down and perching on the quai delighting me and the tourists alike. 

In a country that has over 2000 different cheeses, cheese does take a very important place on the tables and palates of the French, who are fiercely loyal to the cheeses from their native regions.

Likes French wines, French cheeses are very regulated to preserve their authenticity and quality.  They too are given a AOC, or Appellation Controlée.

This cheese festival was to highlight  French cheeses that have been further awarded Appellation Geographic Protegée.

This is given by the European Union to make sure that if a cheese carries certain names, they are guaranteed to come from a specific geographic area where they are made.

For example, any cheese labeled Roquefort must come from the designated area of France where it is made.  Ditto for Feta, which must have been made in Greece.

In front of the tents was a makeshift race track for the kiddies complete with haystacks, to give it a “rural “air in the centre of Paris.

Inside, it was a very crowded madhouse of folks thrusting their hands and elbows past yours to grab samples of the regional cheeses.

You could easily have gotten the impression that they were either starving or never going to get another chance to taste free cheese!

After trying to wiggle in two stands, I called it a day and forgot about fighting the mobs for a little bit of cheese.

You can ask to sample most cheeses in any reputable Fromagerie or cheese shop without all the shoving and pulling I saw there.

Instead, I milled around to check out teaching children about the cheeses and of course some culinary demonstrations, again involving children!

Promoting knowledge in children in these food festivals is considered very important in ensuring polishing the palates of these future consumers and maintaining reverence to the great culinary treasures of France.

Shadows of the evening were drawing near in the deepening blue grey sky and the lights of Hôtel de Ville had been turned on by the time I left.

I wanted to return to the banks of the Seine to see if the celebration there was still going on and take in some of the glittering colourful vistas of the river.

As I wound down the ramp of Pont Marie, I noticed the emptied flower crates, but there were many strolling with their kids and doggies along the banks taking in those gorgeous views that I love too.

Music was still playing in front of the barge Marcounet, where people were sipping wines, Champagnes and cocktails in the nippy air.

Children and adults rode past me on bicycles and scooters.  Some folks were playing boules, the classic steel ball game from Provence.

Others were swinging on hammocks lazing looking over the Seine lit by the soft glow of lampposts. I could have lingered, but the deepening early evening darkness that comes in winter beckoned me home.

The banks of the Seine have finally returned to the people who love them the most, both residents and tourists alike, who are more interested in soaking up the beauty and savouring the moment, rather than whizzing by to get somewhere else.