Je T’aime

article by Meredith McKinnie

Though it was only our second day in Paris, the itinerary had me positively giddy. We had a 9AM reservation at the Eiffel Tower, followed by a stroll down Rue Cler, the most famous market street in the city, and then an afternoon planned at Montmarte. I’ll save the Eiffel for its own article, but Montmarte possessed a charm that reminded me of the diversity of the world and its inhabitants, of which I’ve seen so little and relish experiencing. We began our ascent along the cobblestone streets, yes, those expensive and time-consuming streets that highlight the areas people once cherished and built to last. I say “ascent” because the Montmarte trek is almost continuously uphill (430 feet), with notable landmarks along the way. The area is bustling, as is most of Paris, with tourists at a leisurely stroll impeding the locals in their daily routines. The dance of “my place and yours” is fascinating to witness, as many locals welcome the presence and interest of strangers, just as others want to get on with their day.

The Wall of Love (Le Mur des Je t’aime), situated in the corner of a garden off the cobblestone path, boasts 430 square feet of text – “I love you” written in varying scripts. The phrase is depicted 311 times in 250 different languages. The sight is overwhelming, both in size and scope and representation. I looked around at the people sharing space, anxiously searching for native tongues, many other than English or French. In its understated, artistic way, the wall says, “You’re welcome here.” People sat along benches and strived to get selfies with as much of the wall in the frame as possible. Like many Parisian landmarks, the Wall of Love does not translate in pictures – it must be experienced. I ran my hands along the wall, careful to sneak touches between photo ops. The inclusion of the multiplicity of languages suggested the accommodation and respect of everyone there. No one pushed or mumbled under their breath or resented the mass of bodies. The Wall wouldn’t allow such distractions. 

We continued to climb, following the meandering travel groups. Husband and I weaved in and out of people, stopping in cafes for the art and artists, soaking in the sights and smells as if at any moment they might vanish. Paris had this effect on us – every moment seemed fleeting, as if what we were seeing would never be seen like that again. We paid attention in ways we don’t at home. Perhaps it’s the break in routine or the novelty of new spaces, but it’s a welcome reprieve. The quintessential highlight of Montmarte, and notably toward the top of the hill, is Sacre Coeur Basilica (The Sacred Heart). The Catholic church’s dome sits 200 feet above the Seine River, and visitors can see all of Paris and its suburbs. Again, the mass of people littering the steps leading into the church vary in appearance, age, and background. I imagine few of them are Catholic, and yet still reveling and respecting the holy space and symbol of faith.

While I learned many lessons abroad, Paris, and particularly my time in Montmarte, emphasized the beauty of difference. The Wall of Love, in its motley of language and culture, depicted respect. The church highlighted the pursuit of tolerance. And the people personified it. nd the love for others, and all that loving them entails, requires it. In the New Year, I hope we strive to love one another, to see the beauty in the collective and the depth of loving that only difference can manifest. They call Paris the City of Love – the moniker being much more than mere sentiment.