Paris is overwhelmingly old.
This hit me when we were standing in the Roman baths in the Musée de Cluny today. Upon entering the cavernous space, I gasped out loud. Pictures do not do justice to the baths: the height of the ceiling, the way the light streams in, the sheer size of the room. While we were standing there, I thought, Romans have stood where I am standing right now.
Ancient Romans.
I have never left the United States before, so this is my first encounter with something truly so old. I’ve been to the National Gallery of Art and many other museums, so I’ve seen sculptures or paintings of great age, but there is something different about being in a place that was inhabited. For the first time, I’m not looking at a work that an ancient Roman made in a curated museum setting, but rather I am experiencing what they experienced, standing where they stood, breathing where they breathed. Places are special in part because of the people who were there. This combination of history, architecture, and significance that I saw at the Roman baths today is why I love historic preservation.
Nothing in the United States is even close to the age of that building, and it’s simply staggering to think about. Another place we visited that is overwhelming in its age and architecture was Saint Chapelle.
I learned about Sainte Chapelle in my high school art history class and thought it was stunning. When coming to Paris, it was on my bucket-list, so I was very excited when we stopped by on the first day. Standing in line, waiting to enter, I was grinning so widely in anticipation that my classmates were probably confused.
Walking into the chapel is breath-taking. The room is almost entirely stained glass, and it is some of the most vibrant, colorful stained glass I have ever seen. Visitors are supposed to be quiet, too, so the hushed atmosphere contributed to the sense of awe. It is truly one of the most (if not the most) beautiful places I have ever been, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
Saint Chapelle was built for King Louis IX and his collection of Christian relics. It is surreal to wrap my mind around the fact that King Louis IX was in the same space I was. I wonder if he ever imagined that millions of people would end up visiting the chapel as tourists.
But that’s just Paris: everywhere is beautiful, and everywhere has centuries of stories. Monumental figures walked these streets. Ordinary people casually lived among the architecture that I find stunning. It’s strange being so overwhelmed by a place, and maybe I’ll get used to it, but if I continue to be in awe of Paris that’s alright by me.
I often get the opposite reaction from french people: “you’re a preservationist? But is anything *old* in America?!” Funny how perceptions of “normal age” are completely shaped by one’s home.