TRAVEL
How a Parisian Garden Helped Me Find My Way
Finding confidence in the most unexpected place
My footsteps on the cobblestones sounded unsure, just like I felt inside. Was this the right path, both literally and figuratively? The tall iron gates of the Jardin du Luxembourg loomed ahead, their superbness a stark contrast to the indecision gnawing at me. Back home, a career crossroads awaited, a tangled mess of “should I” and “could I.” Here, alone in Paris, the weight of that indecision pressed even heavier.
Everywhere I looked, Parisian women seemed to have it all figured out with an effortless confidence I craved. Could it be something in the Parisian water, or were they just born with it? A faint smile tugged at my lips just at the thought of it. Maybe a daily croissant was the secret, but even the buttery pastry still warm in my hand couldn’t erase the self-doubts clouding my mind.
The iron gates of the Jardin du Luxembourg were still locked when I arrived at dawn. I peered through thinking perhaps a morning spent here was all I needed.
A slow shuffle echoed from within the garden. A moment later, an old man walked out. He fumbled with the lock, and I greeted him with my best French, “Bonjour, Monsieur!” He smiled and ushered me in, saying, “Bonjour, Madame.”
I am alone, for what I know will only be a matter of minutes. But for these stolen moments, the garden was all mine.
I took a seat in one of the battered green metal chairs scattered around the Grand Bassin with a view of the elegant Luxembourg Palace. The rising sun made it glow golden, and its shadow stretched across the neat green lawns.
Built between 1615 and 1631, it was the brainchild of Marie de’ Medici, the widowed queen of France and mother of Louis XIII. Longing for a taste of her Florentine homeland, she commissioned the palace in the grand Italian Renaissance style, a mirror image of the Pitti Palace and Boboli Gardens in Florence Italy where she spent her youth.
Though her reign was short-lived, the palace and its sprawling gardens became a favourite spot for Parisians as it was declared the first public park in 1642. Over the centuries, it has witnessed history unfold within its walls — serving as a prison during the French Revolution and even German headquarters during World War II. Today, however, it houses the French Senate.
Suddenly, the sound of running shoes on the gravel path startled me. The garden was waking up, as I took the last bite of my delicious croissant.
Before the crowds arrived, I visited the beautiful Fontaine de Medicis fountain. It’s a place you want to enjoy all by yourself. Built in the 1620s, it was another project by Marie de’ Medici and was inspired by her love for the grottoes and nymphaea (water gardens) popular in her native Italy.
I stare at the statue of a mythical creature, perhaps a nymph or a goddess, I wish I knew which one, but regardless I always appreciate how quiet it is here, like a secret garden. I watch the reflection in the still pond as the swallows swoop from tree to tree.
I strolled past the twenty white marble statues of Queens and saintly women of France lining the Grand Bassin. Each one exuded confidence in their serene poses, a powerful reminder of the remarkable women who shaped France’s past.
Perhaps, I thought, gazing at these figures, this is where the Parisian women’s characteristic confidence originates — from centuries of strong female role models immortalized in stone.
The murmur of voices grew as the morning progressed. Children chased pigeons with glee, lovers embraced on benches, and friends came for a chat. It was a Parisian life unfolding before me.
My path eventually led me toward the western corner of the park. Here, a replica of the Statue of Liberty stood tall, another powerful woman on display. Sculpted by Bartholdi, this smaller version was created for the 1900 Exposition Universelle in Paris. It served as a reminder of Lady Liberty’s enduring symbol of hope and freedom.
As I left the Jardin du Luxembourg, ready to explore more of the city, the stories of the strong women lingered in my mind. Marie de’ Medici, the Queens of France, and Lady Liberty — each a testament to the power that resided not just in them, but in all women. Perhaps the Parisian women’s confidence wasn’t magic, but a reflection of the remarkable women who came before them.
It wasn’t about having all the answers right now. It was about trusting that, like those women before me, I possessed the strength and confidence to find my own path.
Their legacy was a reminder that true confidence doesn’t come from knowing exactly where you’re going, but from believing that you’ll find your way.
With every step I took on those cobblestones, I felt a growing sense of assurance. I didn’t need to have it all figured out just yet; I just needed to trust myself.
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