The Scents and Sounds of Paris

So, I have this thing. I’m sure a lot of you have the same thing as well. It’s that, there are certain scents and sounds that I associate with certain cities, and Paris is no stranger to that. My nostalgia is linked with audio and smell rather than anything else. So even if I can unravel a mental map of Paris, I’m more likely to remember it based on its sounds and how it tickled my nose. The only problem is conveying my feelings to you on paper. Paris cannot be caught with its essence of scent and sound in a blog. I can, unfortunately, only give you visual indications of what it was like to be in the city. With these photos, I can add some lines to reveal the underlying itch of my auditory and olfactory senses.

I’m definitely going to fail.

Sounds

It’s hard to forget the little beep of the Navigo every time you swiped to go from one place to another in Paris. How different the card sounds depending on if you get the weekly or the monthly pass. The ping! of the stop button as the words arret demande flashed on the screen on the buses. Or how the metros screeched to a halt and the doors opened with a loud rattle. This wasn’t true for the ones that were self-driving – those doors opened with almost a soundless hiss. The trilling sound of the metros announcing that the doors are closing, while people ran and jumped into them anyway.

Then there was the sound of the AI announcements on the trains, in the mechanical “prochain arrêt…” People rustling their bags to take out sandwiches on the way to work or from work. Loud teenagers who were automatically forgiven for being loud because of their joie de vivre. The dogs sitting quietly next to their owners because they have been told to, drooling all over the train floors. You could only hear them breathing and being obedient. Here’s a photo of the beautiful Gare du Nord, the getaway to other parts of France and Europe. I can almost hear all the voices inside on looking at this photo. (And they aren’t just the voices in my head).

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And you hear a myriad of sounds when you’re in Le Marais, especially when the sun is out. All of a sudden, Paris doesn’t know just French anymore. Spanish and Italian merge into each other, Japanese tourists follow a dedicated guide, and American English replaces the thick-accented English spoken by Parisians. Kids are running gleefully, half dressed, in the fountains in front of Les Halles. And, of course, the pattering of feet darting here and there in Châtelet–Les Halles, one of the biggest train hub in Paris. Here, you can see them entering the area not just for shopping.

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Scents

I don’t want to risk being cliched, but all cliches come from some truth. And it is true that boulangeries and patisseries in Paris smell great. You can smell the goodies inside from a block away. It’s a typical, quintessential scent of all that is baking inside. And for those asking, it does smell a lot different in Paris than it does even in other parts of Europe. When my friend and I returned from a trip to Germany and Belgium, our first steps entering into France was greeted with something familiar and well-loved: the scent of croissants. Standing in the station, sleep deprived from our travels, we took a deep inhale and declared simultaneously: “Aah….croissants.”

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The photo has been taken at Eric Kayser, my second favourite bakery in Paris, after La Parisienne. All the times I’ve visited the latter, I had been been too entranced with its fresh smells to stop and take a photo of the display. And it’s not just the food: it’s the Parisian air, as well, which has a lovely scent. Although Paris is known for its pollution that reaches higher levels than its suburbs, the air smells crisp and clean. Some cities leave a bad taste on the roof of your mouth the minute you step into them. But especially if you’re lounging beside the Seine, the scent of Paris is unforgettable: it smells like how a chilly wind feels.

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It always will be hard to explain something which feels like the aforementioned underlying itch. But if you’ve already been to Paris, this post might ring ten times deeper than other readers. Let me know if there are cities that you associate other things apart from visual memory. I’d spent the first three of my junior school years in Brussels. When I visited the country again recently, nothing clicked. It was the smell of waffles – as they are locally called, the gauffres – which ignited all sorts of nostalgic sparks. I’m sure Paris will do the same for me in the future.

To read more posts about Paris, click here. To see more photos of the city, you can find them on my Instagram account: @thefoxsaystravel.