When Every Day Is Sunday
An ode to August
It may seem premature to start mourning a month that’s only ⅔ finished, but August in Paris is a uniquely special time for so many reasons, and it’ll be over before we know it.
First is possibly the most obvious: This place is empty. Parisians are gone. At least this is the most obvious to those who are aware August in Paris is a sort of dead zone. When I first moved back, and probably for the first few years living here, I hated August. I never knew what would be open. So many spontaneous moments went nowhere as we ran into handwritten sign after handwritten sign declaring arbitrary dates on the beach. Heck, a lot of decently made plans fell apart.
It took me a while to get used to it. Now I love it. The thing is, there’s always something open in Paris in August. Good things too. And you don’t have to compete with a flood of stressed out Parisians to enjoy it. You’ve just gotta have multiple contingency plans in mind anytime you go out, or a willingness to stroll for an additional 15 minutes should things go awry.
The second is the weather. It’s been hot, occasionally really hot, and I’m absorbing every minute of it. It means picnics in the parks and sunset drinks on the Seine. Terrace season used to be year-long, but since restaurants can’t put heaters out in winter anymore there is an official off-season now. Not that all Parisians give up on it - something I appreciate about the denizens of this place is how much they’ll suffer just to sit outside.
So why, if there are ten days left, am I treating August like it’s already behind us?
Largely because Parisians will start coming back in droves next week, and the weather is forecast to take a turn away from summer vibes. But also because it’s refreshing to remember. I’m not writing this so much to grieve, but to take a moment and appreciate August. To remind myself how much I love this time of year. To ensure I enjoy the last few days of it that I have.
Savor August while it lasts, for its silence is sweet and its warmth is… mostly… a comfort soon lost.
