A travel write-up I wrote when I went to Paris last Summer :)
I know a place of places; a
room of rooms, a city of cities. I know of a place where you can find a river
of dreams as well as a box filled with the world’s misery. In this place you
can find man’s memories of the past and discover their hopeful sagas of the
future. It’s amazing how a bookstore has it all. Being a book lover, bookstores
are my second home. It’s that one place
I can totally get lost into even if the store is practically so small I can see
everything from one standpoint. What I meant by getting lost is getting sucked
into the stories; visiting places, going through time, and meeting people. All
bookstores give me that feeling of pure bliss as I enter its premises, but one
in particular literally took my breath away.
Located at
La Rive Gauche, the southern bank of
the River Seine in Paris France, Shakespeare and Company is every bookworm’s
dream place. The exterior of the place consisted of wooden-framed windows
painted in dark green, a cart parked up front filled with books and
manuscripts, and a huge sign on top saying: “Shakespeare and Company” written
in green bold lettering against a yellow background. The facade was enough to
get me giddy inside, considering that it looks magical and so much like the
bookstores featured in old films. But
nothing prepared me for what I’m about to see inside.
Walking
into Shakespeare and Company felt like walking into a magical place like
Hogwarts or Neverland. The sight was simply surreal! The inside was warm and
lit by antique lamps giving the room a yellowish glow. A desk stood at the
center opposite to the entrance, where two women handled the cash register. But
what’s caught my attention was the bookstore’s literary collection. Hundreds—thousands—of
books lined the shelves, covering every inch of the interior walls. There was
no empty space, every nook and cranny occupied with layers upon layers of literary
pieces. I have never seen so many books in my life! It was such a staggering
sight that I couldn’t decide on whether to jump up and down with happiness or
break down and cry. Excitedly, I walked through the bookstore like a little kid
in a toy store. I was practically Alice in a book-filled wonderland. My eyes
skimmed vertically and horizontally, looking through the various titles and
volumes lining the shelves. The store has a wide range of classics available in
both hardcover and paperback. They also have new titles like fiction novels
written by some of today’s bestselling authors: Nicholas Sparks, James Patterson,
and Stephen King. I delved deeper into the store, even going into the smallest
of spaces, admiring the architecture of the place and browsing through books
whose covers got my attention. Each book varied not just in genres but in its
physical appearances: some were secondhand and were so old that the pages
already turned yellow, its edges crinkled and the covers worn with use; others
were new with uncreased leaves and plastic-covered jackets. I picked them all
up, reading the blurbs and just soaking everything it in.
As I
made another turn in this maze of ink-filled papers, I found the stairs leading
to the second floor. The staircase was narrow; each step with a stack of books
on the side (Seriously, this place is overflowing with books!). Climbing up the
stairs was crazy, considering it looked unstable. Its wooden treads creaked at
every step and I couldn’t help imagining my foot going through it or the treads
giving in under my weight (though I don’t think I weigh that much). When I
reached the top, the sight made my mouth drop. There were more books (good
heavens!) stacked orderly and messily at the same time on every space from the
floors to the ceilings. A soft piano melody was playing in the background and
as I turned to my right, there was a little room with a couch, a desk with a
typewriter on its surface and a man playing a piano. I stood leaning against
the wooden doorframe, just taking it all in. I swore it felt like going back in
time, back when this place was a publishing house slash library where a few of
the greatest writers in literary history had stayed and wrote their
masterpieces. I can almost imagine the likes of Ernest Hemingway, Scott
Fitzgerland, and Gertrude Stein, the “Lost generation” writers, sitting on the
desks typing their masterpieces on the typewriter or probably even standing by
the shelves talking with one another about their favorite literary works.
In the room adjacent to what I now call the “piano room”
was a bedroom. Red curtains hung over the bed where a stack of books lay. There
was also a desk cluttered with books and papers. But what’s special about the
room is the collection of sticky notes up on the wall. I looked closer and realized that they were
short messages from people who had visited the place; each of them relaying their
reading experiences. I thought about
writing a note as well but thought otherwise since it wouldn’t have fit in a
small sticky note anyway. Promising myself that I will write about my
experience some other time, I continued browsing through the books in search
for something worth buying.
I
decided on a book entitled “A Wonderful Welcome to Oz”, a classic written by L.
Frank Baum. I’ve always loved the story of the Wizard of Oz and am so glad I
found the sequel to it. I went to the cashier and purchased it but before the
lady had it wrapped, she asked if I wanted to get my book “stamped”. Curious, I
nodded and she stamped something on the first page of the book. I looked at it
and realized that it was the logo of the store; a circular emblem with William
Shakespeare’s face at the center, surrounded by the store’s name and the
phrase: “Kilometer Zero Paris”. Before leaving, I took one last look around,
taking everything in and imprinting on my memory. With a soft sigh, I left for
the door, clutching the book against my chest, smiling like the happiest person
on earth.
As I
write this, I’m keeping a promise and reminiscing on my whole experience. I
think there’s only one word that can describe my whole experience. And that
word is Magical. It was magical to the point that the whole experience seemed
unreal to me, like I’ve just imagined everything. I grabbed my book and looked at the emblem
stamped on the front page:
Shakespeare and Company, Kilometer Zero Paris.
Unsure
of what the last phrase meant, I googled
it and discovered that Kilometer Zero is actually an area considered to be the
center of a city. I felt a smile gracing my lips as I thought of how perfect it
all is: the bookstore of dreams at the very heart of the city of Paris.
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| This is me at Shakespeare and Company Bookstore :P |
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| Official logo of the bookstore |
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| My book with the official seal |
