Define what this quote means in the reading What's big enough to make the city? When I

Define what this quote means in the reading

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What's big enough to make the city? When I thought about New York City as everywhere the Twin Towers had been visible-from Bear Mountain to Cape May in New Jersey-I was thinking on the scale that Cantal was urging. One day, as Cantal and I were standing in the street in Crèteil, a city outside of Paris, he pointed out, "The street is too small a constraint to give structure to the city. So what is large enough to give the city its form?" He looked at me, pausing a beat for emphasis. "Water. Water gives the city its form." He then led me one block over to a man-made lake whose contours gave the city its edges. "Water shapes the city." The world's first cities started where there was water for drinking, bathing, cooking, and transport. Situated on the banks of rivers or beside lakes or oceans, cities took their form from the water, as Paris takes its form from the Seine. I've never lived there, but I've visited the city over twenty times and twice stayed for two months. I've had to figure out the metro, the parks, and life in a Paris apartment. When I took my granddaughter Lily for her first visit to the city, I thought she should see the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Musee d'Orsay, and Notre Dame. I know that these places are all disconnected from each other: making the circuit requires a lot of transfers on the metro, followed by reasonably long hikes. In 2000, Cantal bought a houseboat on the Seine and, after extensive renovations, settled there. This had got me in the habit of going down by the water. His home is quite close to the Musée d'Orsay stop of the Batobus, bateau (pronounced bat-OH) being French for boat. Cantal, whose musings about the city lead him to think of everything, had had the idea for the Batobus. It is a great way to see the historic heart of Paris. When seen from the river, it becomes quite clear that Paris was built from the banks of the Seine and that the city's great structures hug the water, not the metro. You get off the Batobus at the door of the Louvre, and the same is true for the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and the Musée d'Orsay. The Seine threads the heart of the city, shapes the Right and Left Banks, and links Paris with the rest of Europe. In the old paintings, Paris is entirely organized around the river. For the past one hundred years, the city pulled back from the river and put its highways and factories along the river's edges. But Paris is now reconnecting with its source and finding its pleasures in, on, and near the water. Paris Plage, a summer festival that turned the riverside highway into a beach, was one of those manifestations of the return to the river. I have a tendency to imagine something French using American images. The first time Bob and I rented a house in France, the advertisement said it was 1500 meters from shopping. I pictured US Route 1/9 in New Jersey, a garish, car- dominated non-place, non-lieu as they say in France. What I found was a country village with all the pleasures of taking my panier and walking down a country lane to one of the two bakeries to buy a freshly baked morning croissant. So it was with Paris Plage. On the way down the ramp to the beach, there was a misting spray that cooled me off and I was instantly Some Place Else, a place designed by Cartier and Chanel, outfitting the new beach with top-of-the-line chaise lounges for sunbathing, showers for cooling, rocks for climbing, music for listening, and art for amusing. Paris Plage lounged in all its elegant ease along the great river, which was coursing under the bridges and lapping at the stone walls that formed its sides. In that way that people have, the Parisians immersed themselves in the pleasure of the space. They flirted, skipped, teased, ogled, meditated, painted, got wet, and got dry. There by the Seine, the city had created a space of sufficient size and elegance to lift people from the quotidien-the everyday-so that they could return to it with new spirit and joy. It was a space that was out of place and time, ephemeral, enchanting, and enriching. What's big enough to make the city? When I thought about New York City as everywhere the Twin Towers had been visible-from Bear Mountain to Cape May in New Jersey-I was thinking on the scale that Cantal was urging. One day, as Cantal and I were standing in the street in Crèteil, a city outside of Paris, he pointed out, "The street is too small a constraint to give structure to the city. So what is large enough to give the city its form?" He looked at me, pausing a beat for emphasis. "Water. Water gives the city its form." He then led me one block over to a man-made lake whose contours gave the city its edges. "Water shapes the city." The world's first cities started where there was water for drinking, bathing, cooking, and transport. Situated on the banks of rivers or beside lakes or oceans, cities took their form from the water, as Paris takes its form from the Seine. I've never lived there, but I've visited the city over twenty times and twice stayed for two months. I've had to figure out the metro, the parks, and life in a Paris apartment. When I took my granddaughter Lily for her first visit to the city, I thought she should see the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Musee d'Orsay, and Notre Dame. I know that these places are all disconnected from each other: making the circuit requires a lot of transfers on the metro, followed by reasonably long hikes. In 2000, Cantal bought a houseboat on the Seine and, after extensive renovations, settled there. This had got me in the habit of going down by the water. His home is quite close to the Musée d'Orsay stop of the Batobus, bateau (pronounced bat-OH) being French for boat. Cantal, whose musings about the city lead him to think of everything, had had the idea for the Batobus. It is a great way to see the historic heart of Paris. When seen from the river, it becomes quite clear that Paris was built from the banks of the Seine and that the city's great structures hug the water, not the metro. You get off the Batobus at the door of the Louvre, and the same is true for the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and the Musée d'Orsay. The Seine threads the heart of the city, shapes the Right and Left Banks, and links Paris with the rest of Europe. In the old paintings, Paris is entirely organized around the river. For the past one hundred years, the city pulled back from the river and put its highways and factories along the river's edges. But Paris is now reconnecting with its source and finding its pleasures in, on, and near the water. Paris Plage, a summer festival that turned the riverside highway into a beach, was one of those manifestations of the return to the river. I have a tendency to imagine something French using American images. The first time Bob and I rented a house in France, the advertisement said it was 1500 meters from shopping. I pictured US Route 1/9 in New Jersey, a garish, car- dominated non-place, non-lieu as they say in France. What I found was a country village with all the pleasures of taking my panier and walking down a country lane to one of the two bakeries to buy a freshly baked morning croissant. So it was with Paris Plage. On the way down the ramp to the beach, there was a misting spray that cooled me off and I was instantly Some Place Else, a place designed by Cartier and Chanel, outfitting the new beach with top-of-the-line chaise lounges for sunbathing, showers for cooling, rocks for climbing, music for listening, and art for amusing. Paris Plage lounged in all its elegant ease along the great river, which was coursing under the bridges and lapping at the stone walls that formed its sides. In that way that people have, the Parisians immersed themselves in the pleasure of the space. They flirted, skipped, teased, ogled, meditated, painted, got wet, and got dry. There by the Seine, the city had created a space of sufficient size and elegance to lift people from the quotidien-the everyday-so that they could return to it with new spirit and joy. It was a space that was out of place and time, ephemeral, enchanting, and enriching.

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The quoted passage emphasizes the role of water particularly the Seine River in shaping the city of ... View the full answer