beauté

After moveable fiestas in Toledo, Sevilla and Cordoba under the brilliant Spanish sun, the Malay in me emerged from the deep, giving me the mocha complexion that our people wear so effortlessly. The AGM was over and I took a Ryan Air flight from Madrid to Paris.

After mailing some coffee table books and my formal clothes to Manila in the Hôtel de Ville, I found affordable lodging in what was once a 13th century monastery in the Marais, by the Seine and within view of the gargoyles of Notre Dame.

If Madrid reminded me of Manila, the turrets and steep blue roofs of many buildings in Paris reminded me of parts of Washington, D.C.- this was probably no coincidence since the first city planner of America's capital was the French-born L'Enfant and the First Lady who some say gave her people majesty was a Francophile.

Interestingly, Europeans once called Manila the "Paris of the East" but, sadly, almost all of our colonial buildings were bombed during the Battle of Manila of the Second World War- Manila was the most bombed metropolis after Warsaw. Paris was luckier: when Hitler ordered its complete destruction by explosives planted throughout the city, his general der infanterie von Choltitz disobeyed him.

Perhaps because of sensory overload- and with thousands of people visiting Paris for the rugby games- I found it difficult initially to take pictures. With all the photographs of Paris that had already been shot, what angle or perspective was left to show?

Then, in the early evening, while looking for a restaurant in the Left Bank frequented by students and artists who, like me, were on a budget, I met someone special in front of Saint-Germain-des-Prés.

Paris lit her grand buildings one by one and clothed the Eiffel Tower with a veil of green and gold stars, until their gentle beams warmed my face and found their way to my heart.