Granted, on a crowded evening, it can feel like queuing up for a bed in a love hotel—you’re not exactly the only ones aiming to enjoy a private romantic tryst. And the bridge is such a popular picnic spot that the city has now hung unsexy green plastic bags every 10 metres along the railings, as well as forbidding the consumption of alcohol there.
A modern version of the lovers’ knot on the Pont des Arts. Apparently, the etiquette is for lovers to attach a padlock (preferably engraved with their initials) to the railings, and then throw the key into the Seine, thus sealing their union for ever. It is considered impolite to say, ‘I’ll keep a key just in case.’
This hasn’t killed the mood altogether, though, and many couples come prepared to perform the bridge’s trademark love ritual. The thing to do is to attach a small padlock to the wire fencing and then throw the key into the waters below (making sure there are no bateaux-mouches passing under the bridge), thus sealing your love for ever and leaving your own permanent memorial in the city of romance.
Personally, I have my doubts about the padlock as a symbol of amour—do you honestly need to keep your loved one in a relationship by means of a lock and key? If so, why not handcuffs (much sexier) or, if you want to get really modern, an electronic tag? And many of the padlocks have names either engraved on them or written in marker pen, but what happens if the couple separates—can they never return to the bridge for fear that their new love will see the old symbol of ‘eternal’ togetherness, or does one of them sneak back with a hacksaw and remove the evidence?
But this is just cynicism, and the number of love locks is growing steadily on the Pont des Arts (and other, more exclusive, bridges), so it looks as though optimism has won the day, as of course it should do where romance is concerned.
Yes, we canal
There are some less well-known, but equally romantic, spots for an arm-in-arm stroll in Paris. My favourite is in the north of the city, at the Bassin de la Villette.
At first sight, this canal basin has one or two minor disadvantages. First, it is near Paris’s least romantically named square—the place de Stalingrad. This is the problem with countries like France that have had a lasting revolution—they tend to give their streets and squares highly unpoetic names—National Uprising Avenue, Victory of the People Boulevard, Decapitation of the Royal Family Gardens. And in Paris, this effect is heightened because of its traditional solidarity towards Communist republics, including the old USSR.
Coupled with the problem of the name, the Bassin de la Villette used to be a drug dealers’ hangout. There is still a very small community of crackheads living by the waterside, but they keep themselves to themselves these days, no doubt because they have seen the way the social tide is turning (yes, even by a canal, there can be tides), and know that they will be moving on soon.
These days, on a warm evening, the area is perfect for a lovers’ stroll, mainly because of the lighting. At the southernmost end of the basin, twin industrial glass buildings have been turned into cinemas decorated with multi-coloured neon artwork. On one side, the MK2 Quai de Seine is lit up with simple lines of blue and white that turn the dark sheen of the water into a star-encrusted Van Gogh night sky. Opposite, the MK2 Quai de Loire is even more colourful. It sports two glowing child’s faces, and the building’s metal columns are all lit a different shade—purple, pink and red.
Looking further along the basin, you see another twin-set of industrial buildings. One, now a waterside students’ residence, has retained its stone walls, but the other has been covered in a chainmail of walkways and balconies that pulse with ever-changing neon colours like some kind of giant metal squid. As soon as dusk falls, the building begins to flow through the spectrum, changing tone every few seconds, and lighting up the whole of the canal basin at its widest point so you almost feel as though you could walk across the silk carpet.****
The southeastern bank of the basin, the Quai de la Loire, which catches the sun for longer in the evenings, has become the place to be on summer nights. Picnics on the bank of the Seine? Old chapeau. These days, you pack up your wine and glasses, not forgetting your corkscrew, buy a few baguettes and delicacies to drape or smear on them, and then stake your spot on the cobbled stones of the canalside between the cinema and the students’ residence. Here, you can drink a toast while looking out over the second-best (but most colourful) mood lighting in Paris, and listening to the laughter of the people behind you playing pétanque.
Yes, the stretch of gravel running alongside the basin has been rediscovered by a new generation of boules players. Stroll along here any evening between May and September and you need to watch that your feet don’t get bombarded by large lead balls. And if you haven’t got your own boules, it doesn’t matter, because the bar halfway down the quai, the Bar Ourcq, lends out pétanque sets, and even has deckchairs for people who have forgotten their picnic blankets.
In short, the Bassin de la
