Paris Letter/Lara Marlowe:You wouldn't automatically associate the French capital with Malibu or Miami, Honolulu or the Copacabana. But for the second consecutive summer, Paris boasts sandy beaches.
When he presented the new, improved version of "Paris-Plage" to the press, Mayor Bertrand Delanoë bragged that his city has inspired Berlin, Brussels and Budapest - not to mention the French towns of Toulouse, Tourcoing and Puteaux - to pretend they too are seaside resorts.
It was ingenious to block off 3.8 km of highway along the Seine and festoon the world heritage site, facing the Île Saint-Louis and the Île de la Cité, with palm trees, beach umbrellas and open-air cafés. Last year, Paris-Plage attracted 2.5 million visitors, and this year's production, which continues until August 17th, promises to be just as successful.
The international attention paid to Paris-Plage has given the city its best publicity since the 1998 World Cup, and turned Mr Delanoë into a presidential hopeful. The mayor wanted to outdo his previous performance, so for this year's beach he trebled the quantity of sand from 1,000 to 3,000 tonnes. There are 300 blue beach chairs instead of 150; 240 umbrellas instead of 100.
Despite Mr Delanoë's offer of a beach chalet as a forum for striking entertainment workers, the kill-joys have nonetheless forced the cancellation of a third of 25 scheduled evening concerts.
This summer's extravaganza includes a floating stage in the Seine and a paperback lending library that even stocks books in English, Spanish and German. There are Chinese gymnastic Tai-Chi classes every morning, in addition to the rental bicycles, free roller-skates, pétanque (bowling) and rock climbing available last year.
A 30 metre-long cold mist machine is a marvellous contraption - and the only place where everyone seems to smile. The water labyrinth - a gauntlet of sprinklers and bamboo plants - is less impressive. Paris-Plage has a lot in common with a real beach: queues for ice cream and chilled drinking water fountains, young lovers smooching, beauties in bikinis, squealing children jumping on trampolines.
Why then, does the novelty seem to have worn off? What happened to the playful serendipity of last year? The city of Rome, which is twinned with Paris, sent ornamental lemon and orange trees in terracotta pots to line the ramp between the town hall and the river.
But in 30 degrees heat, the red roses and oleander bushes wilted, and pre-cut lawn squares turned brown. Fake capitols of Roman columns are scattered among the dying plants like cheap stage props. Perhaps it was the weather, but few of the Parisians wandering along the beach or baking in their lounge chairs looked happy.
Then it struck me: the French cult of leisure is hard work. Nary a French person engaged in productive activity in May or June, which were wiped out by four-day holiday weekends and teacher and transport strikes. In the old days, everyone took August off and that was simpler. To prevent beaches sinking under the weight of 60 million French people, the government suggested it would be better if half the population took their annual vacation in July. The result is that no one works either month.
So France is already in its third month of doing nothing, with more than a month left to go. No wonder the denizens of Paris-Plage are weary. And woe unto foolish Nordics, Asians or Anglo-Saxons who cling to their work ethic. "What kind of crazy idea is it to report a newspaper story in July?" a contact reproached me when I called to ask for an appointment.
The scene in front of Mr Delanoë's Hôtel de Ville, a foot deep in sand, confirmed my suspicion. The shirtless young men and a few scantily clad women who filled two volleyball courts, two badminton courts and the poll-vaulting area, had an intense, concentrated look on their faces. Ditto for the boules players along the river.
Was it the fumes and ruckus of passing traffic, or the sheer effort of trying to have fun? Franck (20) and Sunda (21), Frenchmen of African origin, had travelled from a Paris suburb to have a look at Paris-Plage. "We missed it last year," Sunda explained, "because we were on vacation." The beach is meant to console Parisians who are unable to travel, but it translates into double holidays for all. "Working isn't really the French cup of tea," Sunda commented as we watched the volleyball players.
But if life is too short to bother working, there is plenty of time to complain. For all the charms of Paris-Plage, there's a growing rumble along the lines of, "What use is a beach if you can't even go swimming?" Mr Delanoë has promised a floating pool or two by 2006, but Parisians are becoming impatient. Three people mistook Paris-Plage for a real beach last year and dived into the Seine; two of them "Englishmen with drink taken", Le Monde reported. I thought about it for a split second, but the scent of fetid algae wafted up to my beach chair, and the river was the colour of pea soup.