Being and Doing Nothing at a Paris Cafe: part-two of a two-part guest blog by Renate Stendhal

This is the second and final installment of Renate Stendhal's portrait of Parisian cafes for the IFSF "book blog." When we last heard from Ms. Stendhal she'd made her way to Le Rostand across from the Luxembourg Gardens, her favorite cafe in Paris, and had taken a seat...

The high value the French place on individuality does not mean isolation, however: tables are placed on different floor levels in a sort of choreography that invites gatherings and also allows couples to hunker down in a cozy corner with banquettes. You will feel what the tout Paris felt when the first cafe opened in 1686 and set the tone: the famous literary Cafe Procope (today a restaurant). Here you could warm up, read the latest news bulletin, and let the coffee fire up your thinking. You may agree with the French premise that the creative mind is at its best when its privacy is surrounded by other creative minds. At the same time, nothing inspires conversation like a cup of good, strong coffee. Thus in Paris you don't just have coffee--you partake in a cultural acheivement: your cafe au lait (or creme, for the initiated) at places like Le Rostand is served in two little pitchers: one with espresso, the other with steamed milk. You are invited to create your own perfectly balanced cup. Vive l'individualite! Vive la creativite! If you are a penniless student or bohemian, as I used to be, the extra milk in your little pitcher will allow you to refil your cup and hang out for another hour or so without having to place another order...

You who have come to study Frenchness at a great cafe, will be charmed by the fact that the women around you see comfortable, whether alone or in company, whether eating, reading, writing or simply staring at the chestnut trees in the Luxembourg Gardens. They seem self-assured and independent, and they are chic, revealing in their nonchalant (inimitable) way of draping shawls and scarves around their necks and shoulders that being a woman may be a desirable thing in France. But how about that young, Jeans-clad mother by the window, who is engrossed in her magazine, not paying attention to her two preschool tots? Is she perhaps a tourist? A look at the impeccable haircuts of all three gives it away as easily as the iimpeccable manners of the children who already seem to know how to be citoyens, tiny citizens of a grande culture.

Impeccable haircuts, perfectly tailored chestnut trees...You start to wonder: what about this French fondness for shaping trees? There it is right in front of you at le Jardin du Luxembourg--the strict geometry of French park design. What is the point? Do the French like to tame nature?

Is it a French obsession to create an aesthetic balance between nature and culture? Is this what makes everything here peaceful and exciting? All of a sudden, while enjoying your Jambon beurre (a fresh, crispy piece of baguette with butter and ham) and your creme, you have turned cultural philosopher, in perfect tune with the history and atmosphere of the Parisian cafe. Ask yourself which bus tour, museum, or Roman church would bring you this close to Paris, France? By simply being and doing "nothing"?

Renate Stendhal's memoir "Kiss Me Again, Paris" is nominated for a Lambda Award, and won a 2018 International Book Award in the LGBTQ Non-Fiction Category. Ms. Stendhal lived and worked in Paris for over 20 years, making her living as a cultural correspondent for the German press. She now resides in a village by the sea in northern California with her partner and two frisky dogs.