favorite places: shakespeare and company bookstore, paris

It's a habit of mine to seek out bookstores wherever I go. The body of my childhood memories is laced with images of my mother, cozied up on the couch with a book. She bought books in the checkout lines at the grocery store, back when they sold paperbacks there. There was always a fresh stack of library books above the toilet. She also plays a bold game of Jeopardy and knows history and culture like a pro. I'd say I owe her for my love of books, and greatly -- nothing else has given me such solace, inspiration, and passion.

My first time out of the country was a trip to Paris in 2009 to visit my friend Estelle -- she was my roommate when I lived in Brooklyn (the most amazing thing I've ever found on Craigslist :). One day while she was at work, I did a little research and found the Shakespeare and Company bookstore. I figured even if it wasn't great, the location was -- right along the Seine, just across a bridge from the Notre Dame cathedral.

I was not disappointed, and now every bookstore I visit is held up to Shakespeare and Company in comparison. The tiny rowhouse was absolutely crowded with books, on formal shelves, in mismatched vintage cases, in piles on chairs and in corners. A friendly cat meandered through the stacks. There were new books and used books and books older than the country, their smells all rolled together, something like cinnamon and tobacco.

Folk art celebrating books and authors was painted directly onto the walls. (I was ecstatic, of course, to find my pal Ernest Hemingway, and said hello to Mr. Scott Fitzgerald for my sister.)

Upstairs was a series of rooms, one with a collection of yellowing first and rare editions, and small windows decked with flower pots, where you could look down on the people passing by or at the river.

In another room, a piano. I picked up a copy of The Bell Jar and lounged on a worn-in fouton while a young man with glasses played a slow melody, something he knew but it seemed hadn't practiced in a long time -- the slowness and thought only added to the beauty.

But my most favorite, favorite find was a magical tiny wooden hut. Inside, a typewriter, and hundreds of typed and handwritten notes tacked to the walls. There was advice to travelers, there were love letters to the bookstore, there were love letters.

"This place makes me happy. Someday my books will be in here. -- Danielle"

I don't remember what I wrote. One letter, in particular, stayed with me.

"Dear Shakespeare and Company:

I sit in this little box writing a letter to whoever wishes to read this. I ask you this question.

Where have you gone, have you experienced all the corners of this world? If not, go, don't wait, don't pause to think of the consequences, just go. Live the moment and make memories of all of the adventures you will find on the earth. From experience, going, doing and living in other places have enriched my life. So go, my friend, and live.

 -- Avery"