My first cab ride in Paris:
I was helping a friend move from her apartment in the 5th to her new place near the 11th. We ate a healthy amount of protein sourced from some delicious sushi in order to prepare for a haul of six suitcases via the metro. It became completely clear after our struggle just from her flat to the ground floor, that it would be best and most logical to call a cab. The frenchman arrived promptly after the call was made, dressed in light-blue denim overalls over a thick, off-white wool sweater. He wore a little cap, which called out to be just what all cabdrivers should wear. The daylight had been long gone, and Paris was lit by it's infamous lights. I had seen Paris by foot and by metro, but this new vision offered an entirely new intrigue. Since 2010 marks the 200th anniversary of Frédéric Chopin, the radio was in rhythm to the celebration. The frenchman drove with ease and patience, a great contrast compared to my New York taxi ride experiences. The music played as he offered up some small talk en francais, it was an embellishment to the scene, never distracting from the beautiful sounds of Chopin. Most of the indescribable, beautiful experiences I have had here, can be summed up by saying, Chopin was playing in the background. From waking up to my first snowfall here in Paris while eating a fresh baguette with homemade banana jam to that very cab ride; it was the music of Chopin that made those moments sentimental.
Please, if anything, just listen: