The reckless driving and the wonderful lack of regulation in the
streets of the capital and the majority of the cities of France do not
prevent the streets from possessing a character encouraging sociality
and relaxation. This is due to a great extent to the ever-inviting
cafe, which contrives to keep clean table-cloths and the opportunity
of a comfortable meal in the open air within six feet of a rushing and
tempestuous stream of wheeled traffic. In addition there is much
marketing in France, which adds colour and human interest to what
might otherwise be a featureless street or square. In walking as a
mere visitor through the streets of a French town, one seems to
witness more of the intimate life of the place in a few hours than one
would do in England in a week. From the baking of bread to
haircutting and shaving and the eating of food, there is much more of
work and play visible from the curb-stone. In England the staff of
life seems to reach the dining-room table by invisible means, so
seldom does one see bread carried through the streets, but among the
French--a nation of bread-eaters--long loaves as well as circular ones
are to be seen tucked under the arm of almost every tenth person one
meets. The working classes seem to be continually buying bread freshly
baked, and one loaf at a time! And those who may be seen carrying
bread or vegetables, or whatever they have just purchased at the
market, are more at home in the street than are Anglo-Saxons, who are
apt to regard the common highways of their towns as channels for
coming and going to and from business or pleasure whereon lingering or
conversation is undesirable, indiscreet, and not without danger, for
it is generally recognised that those who pass hours of rest or
idleness in the streets are persons without homes or of undesirable
reputation. But in a French city one is invited at every turn to buy a
newspaper or periodical at a kiosk and to take a seat at a table close
by, where, having ordered a bock or a cup of coffee, one is free to
read undisturbed for hours.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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