Islands in the Seine

It is just a short walk from our apartment to the Île de la Cité, going past the Hôtel de Ville and across the Pont d'Arcole. The vast proportions of Notre Dame quickly come into sight and you soon find yourself consumed by the mass of people gathered by its entrance. There are those queuing to enter the knave and those attempting to take the perfect cathedral snapshot. They stand on benches, low walls and bollards, directing their friends into the frame with frantic hand gestures, or alternatively they crouch low to the ground, brows furrowed with concentration, as they struggle to accommodate the massive height of the cathedral towers in their viewfinders. It is a wonder that the island doesn't sink into the murky depths of the Seine or shake free of its foundations and float away, given the weight and activity of the thronging hoards. In the early evening the island's streets are burdened still further with battalions of police and processions of prison vans, taking the miscreants who have been dealt with at the Palais de Justice that day onward to whatever future has been handed down to them. All the while the ambulances come and go around the Hôtel Dieu, creeping their way through the crowds and the traffic with their sirens wailing.

The Île St. Louis is quieter. Skirting the back of the Hôtel de Ville we can cross the river using the Pont Louis Philippe and find ourselves amongst the smaller island's narrow streets. There are crowds here too, but they are walking around in the most part, stopping to admire the occasional shop window maybe, or queueing to buy the famous Berthillon ice cream, but not really congregating anywhere in particular. Sometimes the roar of a moped or the chime of a bike bell causes them to scatter, or a car might send them scurrying for the pavements, but overall the mood is relaxed. One hot and humid summer evening, when the nights were still light and warm enough for strolling, we heard the sound of Fauré's Requiem drifting out from the church of St. Louis en l'Ile, contemplative tones bathing the island in pleasant tranquillity.

If you take up the right position at a corner café, you might be lucky enough to get a view of the Panthéon, its sheer size and majesty capable of being properly appreciated from here, looming as it does from its distant but elevated position on the Left Bank. Adjust your gaze slightly and you can see, just across the water, the shimmering glass of the Institut du Monde Arabe, a modern building in stark contrast to the ancient stone edifices all around it, but not at all incongruous. Looking out at these vistas one August night we saw black clouds gathering. As we waited to be served with ice cream, bright flashes illuminated the ink-black sky behind the Panthéon's dome. The approaching thunder began with a low rumble, but by the time our order was being scooped up it was repeating in loud, atmosphere-splitting cracks that seemed to be directly above our heads. The trees dotted along the quayside were now being shaken by an ominous wind that had blown up with alarming rapidity. We knew what was coming and tried to outrun the storm in a mad dash back to the mainland, but just before we crossed the Rue de Rivoli the heavens opened. Soaked with the heavy, warm droplets of rain, we kept on running and clutching our ice cream cones all the way back to the safety of our front door.

Amidst their surrounding waters the two central Seine islands rest, quietly at home. All of Paris is at the mercy of the great river that flows through it, topped up regularly by the deluges from above, but the islands are at the heart of the churning waves and more vulnerable still. The motto of the city translates as something like: “She is buffeted by the waves, but she does not sink,” and walking on the Île de la Cité and the Île St. Louis you feel the sense of defiance against the elements that these words encapsulate even more keenly. Perhaps these islands are concentrated microcosms of Paris as a whole. The contrast between the busy, brash Île de la Cité and the more calm, intimate Île St. Louis reflects the different faces of the city at large, the ways in which Paris can be so diverse and yet maintain that whole identity as somewhere unique, somewhere clearly Parisian amidst a mass of contradictions. Or perhaps they are just fine places to go out walking, with the river on either side of you, the comings and goings of the boats and the people, the flow of the water and the currents of the city swirling all around.