It paralyzes, when escape is inches away. Yet, in its pulsating core lies truth, a reminder of mortality, of vulnerability. To face it is to acknowledge one’s fragility. To overcome it is to embrace inner strength, a fleeting victory over the darkness within.
The cave stretched unnaturally wide and straight, its linear precision at odds with nature’s chaotic hand. Caves are meant to be dark and damp, yet this one glowed with a steady, unearthly light. I stood rooted to the spot, youth still brimming within me, a youth that prided itself on composure, even in the face of danger. Yet here, my control was unraveling. My heartbeat thundered, my pupils dilated, and my instincts screamed either to flee or to fight. Logic faded, replaced by raw, devouring fear. I shivered, eyes fixed down the illuminated, geometric passageway, as the source of my dread approached.
A giant loomed ahead, its stride vast as the Grand Canyon, towering like a redwood, face twisted into a sneer, eyes locked on me. Was I imagining it, or did my knees tremble? I glanced around, reassured by the presence of my four friends. We had been chatting with an older gentleman, our conversation was abruptly silenced as the colossal figure advanced. Though six in number, we knew we were no match for this formidable opponent. The monster’s gaze bore through us, its expression darkening as if preparing for our utter destruction. We exchanged resigned glances, silently bracing for the inevitable. Then, as if guided by some divine intervention, the monster continued past without a word, its eyes never wavering. We stood in stunned silence, hearts slowly regaining rhythm, minds struggling to comprehend what had just happened.
The illuminated cave, I now realized, was merely the hallway of our School of Medicine and Dentistry in London, Canada. My companions were fellow dental students, and our elder companion was Dr. Paul Sills, one of our most respected professors. And the monster? That was Dr. Stuart Hunter, tall, lanky, and intimidating. A giant in the dental world, renowned as an orthodontist, his name carried global recognition. We had anticipated his arrival with excitement, eager to learn from such an esteemed figure. Yet, despite his towering reputation, he never once acknowledged us, or anyone else, it seemed. As Dr. Hunter sped past, Dr. Sills broke the silence with a wry smile: “I’ve known him for twenty-five years, and he hasn’t said three words to me.” It dawned on us then that his aloofness wasn’t personal; he simply didn’t engage with anyone.
I couldn’t help but reflect: Life’s joys are often found in the warmth of human connection. Whether traveling or at home, it’s the friendliness of people that leaves a lasting impression. But I wondered, where in the world are people the least friendly? Everyone has their perception, and consensus may be elusive, yet the world brims with our collective impressions. When analyzed, a vivid image emerges. Imagine striped shirts, tilted berets, and the rich aroma of coffee mingling with buttery croissants. Envision a breathtaking steel structure piercing the sky. This can only be the City of Light, Paris. Literature and cinema have infused Paris into our imagination, its charm etched into our minds. In spring, the city blossoms with romance as cherry petals line cobblestone streets and café terraces hum with quiet joy.
Lovers stroll along the Seine, framed by iconic bridges as film scenes come to life. Beneath the charm of bistros and the cobblestone boulevards lining the Seine, an unexpected truth may lie. According to Rough Guides, Paris ranks among the top five unfriendliest cities in the world, with residents often seen as discourteous to visitors. In a tongue-in-cheek jab, a French blogger amusingly named Pierre Baguette once declared, “Parisians are the worst people in the world.” Like any city, Paris has its flaws, petty crime among them. But is it really that bad?
Despite its reputation, in 2023, Paris attracted 15 million visitors, solidifying its status as one of the world’s most beloved destinations. I have visited Paris and experienced its many charms. While Parisians weren’t the friendliest hosts I’ve encountered, I never found them rude. Maybe my clumsy attempts to speak their language showed enough effort to earn some grace. Though I may not return, only because the world beckons with new adventures, Paris has undoubtedly left its mark. The Eiffel Tower is mesmerizing, especially when it lights up as the day fades. The Louvre is spectacular, paying tribute to history’s greatest artists. One must witness the enigmatic allure of the Mona Lisa, but don’t overlook Antonio Canova’s Cupid and Psyche. Trust me on this one.
