An airport is the dessert of a city, it is always too much, but done well, it takes you to the sky.

I’ve been here so many times and somehow, I’ve never realised its beauty. As usual, I had to leave, to go outside, so I can have another perspective on things, to fully appreciate it. To understand it.

For years, I took for granted everything that is built, and more importantly, how it is designed. Carefully crafted. And made with love.

Nikhil told me once that I should stay longer in Paris. And come more often too. Because it is inspiring. Paris will always have something that no other place can fully capture. It will surprising, unexpected, and wonderful. That dedication to arts, this constant search for beauty, this commitment to perfection, and this natural attraction to coherence are what make this part of the world apart. Paris is like no other city. Paris est la plus belle ville du monde. And it took me more than a decade, far from her, to understand it.

It is obvious, me diriez-vous, thinking about the bâtiments Haussmanniens, les petites ruelles, les terasses, les lampadaires, and of course, all those majestic monuments. But today, what caught my attention isn’t any of them. It is CDG. Paris Charles de Gaulle airport.

From the outside, there is very little to like. It is located in Roissy, a pretty unremarkable suburb, so the only thing about Paris is in its name. The building is old and grey. Depressing. An enormous block of concrete in the middle of nowhere. The roads are catastrophically complicated and the signs compound to that cacophony. Imagine you want to go to Terminal 1. Well, there are signs literally indicating Terminal 1 but it is actually not the right Terminal 1 because you are supposed to go to Terminal 3 which leads to Terminal 1. You don’t get it? Me neither.

Once in, I usually feel so stressed. Any regret or sadness for leaving such a fantastic city is suddenly replaced by the ultimate desire of getting out of the airport. The best way to deal with CDG, just like with any airport, is to stay there as little as possible.

Today was different. I came early. Way too early. I have PTSD of what happened yesterday when I was scheduled to fly back to Paris from Edinburg. My flight was scheduled at 0600, I arrived at 0515. At 0530 they started to let passengers in; but the plane had some technical problems. The flight was delayed. Over and over again until almost 1000 when it has been cancelled. It was too late to go on the “next” one and Edinburg airport doesn’t have any airline agents: they are all contractors from Suissport. Basically, it is an airport where you cannot buy nor exchange any flight ticket, and where there is no one from any actual airline. Long story short, when I got rebooked on the next day’s afternoon flight that transits through Amsterdam, I decided to google whatever was available. I eventually took another flight, from another airline, at 1050, to London City, then went to St. Pancreas to get the Eurostar to Paris at 1430, so I can catch my flight back to SFO this morning. An entire day wasted in transports.

When I saw that my flight today was “expected to be on time”, I was relieved. Indeed, I was so happy. And unexpectedly, all the security checks were blazing fast. Within maybe 15 minutes, I was already in the international hub, going to my gate. I had at least an hour to kill. So, I sat down, and looked around. Wow.

An old man is reading his newspaper on a leathered tabouret, a glass of sparkling water placed at the corner of a small, golden framed, square-shaped table. There are a few of those tables, aligned perfectly. At their middle, a chess board. A boy is playing on one of them with imaginary pieces, with his imaginary friend.

The area is surrounded by comfortable seats, all impeccable, in dark leather colour, paired with light wood and black metal. Along the path, some seats are placed under a small abris, covered by a subtle yellow gleam, reminiscence of classic stations in a romantic evening. From time to time, I come across a pavé with diverse activities. A piano à queue, splendid, open and inviting, reflecting the soft camber of the roof. My friend Devin told me he saw a Frenchman playing River Flows in You. A piece written by a Korean-British composer, and used in so many Japanese streams. La diversité française sings on those notes.

Not far from it, a small open-air cinema. It was early and a few kids are sat at the virage watching the large screen displaying a Disney. It’s The Jungle Book. I took note and will watch it again back home. What a great piece of animation.

Behind the big screen are a few PS5 stations. France and Japan have a special bond. We share the same passion and intensity for great craft. Le Louvre still distributes Nintendo DS as multimedia guides, and here, at CDG, PS5 is triumphant.

And as I ready myself for a match of FIFA 23, I spotted something un-imaginable. Something I haven’t seen for decades. A beautiful foosball machine. The strong wooden structure is firmly kept together by those massive golden bolts. It looks superb and I wonder whether it is a Bonzini. It must be.

The clock is ticking and my flight is up soon. How come time passed so quickly? For once, I don’t want to leave. And it is exactly what CDG wanted to achieve. A cynic would think that people are flying out of the country, so why should they be served anything good? For many, they won’t even come back. And they don’t even pay taxes. There is very little point making an effort to decorate such a place.
But the French way is to think a bit beyond it. With more nuance. Using our esprit critique to find another way to look at the world. The airport is literally the last memory of Paris for those tourists, so better leave them with a great one. And maybe they will come back. Or maybe they will tell their friends about it. And for sure they will keep perpetuating the image of Paris, la plus belle ville au monde.

“Paris vous aime”. CDG didn’t lie. I felt loved. And now, I’m taking off with this warming and sweet tendresse, mixed with a pinch of sadness. A complex taste, quite pleasant though. The final touch on a wonderful sejour.

Un aéroport est le dessert d’une ville, c’est le dernier instant de souvenir. Un dernier moment pour impressionner, rattraper, ou ruiner toute une expérience. C’est le dernier moment d’amour et le dernier mot, c’est le moment d’un au revoir ou d’un à dieu. Et CDG le fait de manière remarquable. Tout simplement magnifique.