In all of my excitement about being in Paris, I did mind that we arrived half an hour later than expected, which means we pulled into the city at about 21:30. I also don't think Anne and I realize how late our evenings become, mostly because the sun sets around 23:00 here in Northern Europe. There we were, walking out of the train station as we braved yet another new place, our first big city, all on our own.
"Wait," Anne stopped as soon as we had stepped outside Gare de L'Est, the eastern train station. The tone in her voice brought me out of my Parisian trance and I swung around to look at her. Backpack, formerly known as backpack baby, did not fall apart this time and remained a cohesive object during this very quick and very dramatic turn of events (no pun intended).
--Editor's note: actually, the pun, while not originally intended, was purposefully included in the post to illustrate to one of our readers the use of the phrase "no pun intended" in American English. Thank you. Now back to the show.
Anne plunged her hand deep into the many pockets of her traveling handbag and produced quite a variety of items, including her camera, her kindle, a wallet, guide book, headphones, passport, iPod, and even dried plums. However, the beautifully covered black iPhone 4s was nowhere to be found.
I walked us over to where Anne could rest her handbag on a big concrete planter while I watched her empty the pockets again and again. I wondered what had triggered her to look for her phone in the first place, whatever it was, I was glad we had realized her phone was lost now and not at the hotel. We were getting ready to run back towards the train she suddenly she opened a flap in the back of the handbag and there it was, in all it's Apple glory.
"I put it in there for easy access, and it backfired on me," Anne said. I was too relieved to find the humor in what she had said. Looking back now, I realize we are alike in so many ways. Ask anyone who knows me, I am notorious for placing things where I think will be most convenient, but it is often the last place I look for them. We are too smart for our own good sometimes...
The first crisis in Paris averted, we took two seconds to calm our racing hearts and slow our breathing before once again continuing our journey towards our hotel. Anne had taken screen shots of walking directions from the Gare de L'Est to our hotel. That is why she had sought her phone back at the station! Glad my memory is doing alright, perhaps a little bit of a delay in the recall portion but at least there is accurate follow-through! We walked about half an hour to get to the hotel. We could have made it in about half the time, but we were in no real hurry and took our time finding the streets.
By the time we had received the key to our hotel room, it was after 22:00. We were both tired, having walked what we considered to be a lot back in Heidelberg, but we figured we had an extra "evening" in Paris and wanted to make the most of the time we were there. Naturally, our next decision was to walk around the 18th arrondissement, the neighborhood our hotel was located in, and look for crêpes. As it was late in the evening, very few places were open. The places that were open all happened to be late night bars and cafés filled with people young and old as they witnessed yet another World Cup match. My first night in Paris included the other half of my futbol heart, the national French team, playing a match against Honduras, and we won!
Sadly, however, no crêpe making places were to be found. Anne and I caught the last few minutes of the match at a café and then walked back to our hotel room, me with a happy heart because France won, Anne with a tummy hungry for crepes. "Tomorrow," we promised ourselves, "we'll make the most of the day, including crêpes." I feel a few phrases are appropriate here: little did we know; be careful what you wish for, ask and ye shall receive...
Play-by-play of Anne and Arlene's 15-hour Day
We woke up at 7:00 Monday morning, ready to tackle the city. We walked back to the Gare du Nord to purchase in advance our train reservations for the next leg of our journey, and we also bought a 2-day museum pass so that we would be able to enjoy many of the museums and attractions in Paris on a limited budget. Most museums in Paris cost an average of 8€ or 9€; the 2-day pass was what four or five museum entrances would cost us. Anne and I made sure we would go to at least five places during our two-day stay at Paris to make sure we got our money's worth.
After our ticket and museum pass purchases, we headed back down to the metro to make our way to the Louvre. We took Ligne 7 to one exit before our original destination, as construction was going on right at the exit of the Louvre. Anne and I had bought yogurt in Heidelberg the previous day, and we ate our protein-filled goodies as we excited the 7 and walked over to the Louvre. Once inside, we bypassed a long line of tourists who were purchasing their tickets there. One advantage of purchasing a museum pass in Paris is just that: bypassing lines of tourists at each museum or attraction. The long lines usually accumulate quickly as people are turned away from various places that are closed on certain days. Anne and I breezed right through the southern entrance. The main entrance may have been more crowded, but we knew about the southern entrance from Anne's guidebook. I'm so grateful she decided to bring that book with her! It's been so helpful in getting us around these new cities.
We spent a good few hours touring the Louvre. There are beautiful works of art on display there, from the Mona Lisa and Grecian statues to Egyptian antiquities. However, a lot of this museum's appeal for me was the museum itself! From the beautiful architecture and design on its outer façade to the beautiful paintings on the walls of the museum itself once inside, the Louvre was certainly something to behold. There were so many pieces that reflect the culture of an individual artist or a group of people as depicted by an artist. The halls are arranged in a way that facilitates walking through different time periods and eras, and I did not mind so many tourists because I was able to tune them out easily; the pieces on display had my full attention. It was truly humbling to walk around so much creativity and simply bask in the wonder of these works of art.
After the Louvre, we made our way along the Seine (the river that runs through Paris) to Notre Dame, the cathedral at the center of the city and one of the more popular tourist attractions. There were two separate lines, one to enter the church itself and one to climb to the top of the cathedral and take in city views. Both lines were packed with tourists so we decided to head somewhere else for a bit and come back later in the day. We made our way to the southern edge of the river, walking to what ended up being a type of restaurant alley. There were plenty of restaurant owners inviting tourists to sit and have a meal at their establishment. While Anne searched her guide book for a good recommendation for lunch, I walked around browsing the menus.
"Mais voilà telle beauté qui s'approche," a French restaurant worker motioned for me to walk to him. I didn't feel like being convinced to try a new restaurant, but seeing as I had spoken very little French since that morning, I walked over to him to start my French engines. He asked where I was from and I made him guess, like I very frequently tend to do. He said he was sure I was Algerian, but said he was confused because he had heard Anne and I speaking English. "Voila," I said, telling him that I wasn't going to make it easy for him. He finally gave up and I let him know his answer. I also apologized but I wouldn't be eating at his restaurant, at least not for our next meal.
Talking about his food did stir up my stomach, so we walked over to a sandwich stand back alongside the river and ordered two croque-monsieurs. We took our delicious cheese and ham sandwiches to a stairway down to the river and had a very quiet lunch. We were among other Parisians as they ate their lunch and only saw tourists as they made their way down the Seine on tour boats. Once we had finished lunch on the steps along the Seine, we walked up to the bridge by which we had been sitting and for the first time were presented with a view of la Tour Eifel. We had not seen it right up to that point and it was very surprising to just have it come out right out of nowhere. Actually, I think it did not move, we were the ones too hungry and enjoying our sandwiches to notice it. The sandwiches were so good and plentiful; we packed up what we hoped to have as dinner later on and left our lovely lunch spot.
After our Tour Eifel discovery, we walked to the Sainte Chapelle, a historic chapel that would be a very dark religious meeting place were it not for the thousands of tiny colorful glass pieces that line the walls and draw light into the enclosed space that the chapel is. It was under renovation; some of the panels had been removed, but Anne and I still enjoyed the panels that were there. Also there was a piano at the altar of the chapel, my first piano sighting in Europe. Yes, I am keeping track. As I finish up this entry, I have now seen two more, but I'm not revealing later details of our trip until I get to them on this blog. Patience, friends!
Next on our mind was visiting the Concierge, an old prison that housed military rebels during the revolution. We learned that prisoners of varying social statuses were housed at the prison. This mattered greatly as social class determined overall financial equity, and a greater equity naturally lent itself to nicer accommodations. These ranged from a room of cement flooring and hay all the way to a still small but rather comfortable room with wooden floors, a twin-sized bed, and a night table with your own chair. The food was limited to bread and water, one ration per day. Anne and I thought it would be quite tragic to be in such a great city today and only have one piece of bread per day.
Speaking of eating, Anne and I decided to finish our leftovers from lunch early. We came upon a park and sat while we enjoyed the rest of our sandwiches and people watched. Well, I watched people as they strolled about the park. Anne mainly enjoyed her sandwich and minded her own business. I really enjoy watching people as they go about their day. For me, half the fun of traveling has been seeing what people do as part of their usual routine. Some call it creepily taking pictures of people doing random things, I call it taking a little bit of culture back home for my memories. Ok I know, I know, I'm always careful people don't notice me! Let's move on, shall we?
Before heading back to Notre Dame in the hopes of finding a shorter line, we decided to scout out the Centre Pompidou, another museum on our 2-day pass. We weren't hoping to get into the museum as much as we wanted to ride the escalators to the top of the building for the magnificent view that the Rick Steeve's guidebook promised us. Since it would be included in our pass, we didn't feel too guilty passing up all those wonderful works of modern art. Anne and I are greater fans of classical works anyway; call us snobs if you'd like, but we were fine just catching a high view of Paris.
Unfortunately, it took us about an hour to find the center. There were signs leading up to it, and we asked a couple of people along the way. This resulted in about a small bit of helpfulness, as each person directed us towards another street, another walkway, and we ended up once again walking along one of the very posh avenues of Paris. How did we know this, you ask? We began to see the same storefronts as we had back in Düsseldorf, all those fancy places I named two entries ago and am too lazy to go back and copy them over to this one. Think fancy stores.
We came to a postal carrier office (similar to UPS or FedEx in the US), and we decided that our getting lost was meant to be. We finally had a place that could give us information as to sending a letter with European postage back to Anne's home in Turlock. The nice gentleman gave us a postage price and put the letter back with the mail to be sent, and also directed us to walk straight out of the carrier office to the KFC (I know, a Kentucky Fried Chicken in Paris? I asked myself the same question). We were to make a left at the KFC and walk a few meters directly to the entrance of the Centre Pompidou. Unfortunately, we didn't see the KFC until about half an hour later when we finally stumbled upon the Centre. The KFC was nowhere near the center. Oh Paris. We enjoyed the view but didn't stay up on the top floor long, as it was now coming to be 17:00 and we knew that the employees at Notre Dame did not let people into the tower climb after 17:15.
Picture Anne and I running through the busy streets of Paris, walking about thirteen blocks (Parisian blocks, mind you!) to get from the Centre Pompidou to the cathedral. Do you picture faces of desperation? Sweat so unladylike running down our foreheads? People staring, tourists and Parisians alike, as we made our way past them? If you did, you got the scene pretty accurately imagined. I might just add that I was also becoming one with my French culture as I quickly bypassed people in front of me with a very curt and direct, "excusez-moi." The tone of voice I had heard all day was becoming easier to mimick, and I kid you readers not, that tone will get you places in Paris.
Finally arriving at Notre Dame, we made it in time to be among the last group to be allowed up to the tower and the view. While we waited, we spoke briefly to an American couple who were in Paris for their honeymoon. We also saw how an American tourist, a woman in her late forties-early fifties, came up to the line of people waiting and in a very loud voice exclaimed, "English! Does anyone speak English here?!" I stifled a giggle as Anne turned to give this woman a look I had never seen Anne give. It was part annoyance, part judgment, part I cannot believe I am witnessing this right now. Once Anne said we did, the woman asked us whether or not they would be able to climb the tower. After about five ways of rephrasing her answer, Anne finally gave up and said, "No." The disappointed woman finally turned and left, and Anne was quick to tell me, "We are in a line of tourists to see Notre Dame. Half the people in this line are American!!" I have to agree with her, half the people really were American, and I can bet all the people in line who spoke English, American or not, all laughed with Anne as she said it.
Up to the tower we climbed, making our way slowly up what seemed like an infinite number of stairs until we finally reached the top. The view was spectacular, but it was also just amazing to think I was atop one of the oldest cathedrals in Paris--in the world! It was nice to see all of Paris from a more central location, and it was debating whether or not to find a ledge when I heard one of the cathedral employees yell at the newlyweds we met in line. Apparently, they had tried to carve their names onto the wall of the cathedral. Romantic, I will give them that, but also pretty impractical and dumb. I decided there only needed to be one yelling instance during our group so I settled for standing as Anne and I documented our views. Making our way down to the church was almost worse than climbing all those stairs. Going up, the pain in my calves was distracting me from the fact that I was spiraling around a maybe 6 ft diameter. Going down, the vestibular canals in my inner ear were definitely having a party.
It was 1900 and we were now ready to tackle what many tourists come to Paris to see: La Tour. We prepped ourselves for the 4-mile walk over to the Tower, and then we realized we needed a crêpe to help make the journey bearable. There we went, walking back to the same guy who sold us our lunch, and we ordered a Nutella crêpe. It was gone before the first mile, but Anne and I talked along the entire way, along what turned out to be an hour long walk.
Suddenly, there it was. Tall, such a stark contrast to the smaller buildings next to it, we were catching the tower just as the sun was beginning to set, and it was a beautiful thing to behold. We took pictures as we approached it, and then we took more as we got even closer. I looked at all of the steel bars and heard Anne say that it was lighter than what one would think...her voice once again fading as I became absorbed in the wonder of experiencing something I had only read about before. There really isn't much else to describe here. I was simply in awe of having such an amazing opportunity, and it was a beautiful moment of reflection and thanksgiving that I will cherish for the rest of my life.
Last on our agenda for the day was the Arc De Triomphe, the famous arc where the Tour De France ends, also a bit historically important for honoring the men who died during France's revolutionary war. The names of all the French victories as well as important people during the are inscribed all over the Arc's walls, and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier honors fallen soldiers during WWI. While Anne and I made our way to the top of the Arc, however, I'm sure both of us were thinking, more stairs....
At the top, we took in another great view of the city now twinkling with lights as less sunlight filtered through its buildings to the streets and boulevards below. We waited for it to get dark enough so that the Tower would be lit up and we'd have another view of it. It was 22:30 before we decided it was not going to be dark until about 11:30, and the winds up at the top if the Arc made us wish we were having hot chocolate and a warmed pastry. Making our way down, we thought about what to have for a late night snack before heading back to our hotel. Once on the ground level, we braved the traffic that zooms through the roundabout and walked down the Champs Elysées looking for places to eat. Seeing as how it was pretty late, very few places were open. There was a nightclub we could have gone into, but we decided in favor of a bakery that was about to close. The waitress took pity on these two young traveling girls and sold us a sandwich and an almond pastry five minutes after she had closed up shop. Yes, it was past 23:00 at that point!
We braved the metro and took two trains back to our hotel. We were wiped out, our feet were aching, and we headed straight to bed after passing right by the hotel and having to turn back around. I was one very tired country girl who had expereinced her first day in the Ville Lumière, the City of Light, and survived such a hectic but rather quite amazing and breathtaking day. As my eyes closed that night, I thought, "and I get to do it all over again tomorrow!" With a smile on my face, there went that Monday in June one six.
One day left in Paris!
A tout à l'heure mes lecteurs!
Our "high speed" train to Paris went up to about 200 mph--for about half of the trip. Hence the delay in our arrival. However...
...we are still all smiles Sunday night as we arrived in Paris. Anne is excited and tired; Nich is ecstatic and in denial about any fatigue. Fatigue is not in her dictionary while en France.
First morning in Paris; this is outside the Louvre. I'm a happy camper right now. The guy behind me, not so much. In the few minutes I waited for the crowd to clear (it never did, obviously), he was arguing with his wife about a Louis Vuitton she had apparently bought while he was away in Paris. Yes, I eavesdrop. No, I'm not weird.
A view of the structures surrounding the Louvre. Look, a bridge on your left!! Maybe I should sit on the ledge over the water!
Anne made me settle for the ledge with a cement block right underneath. I let her think she had the upper hand with this ledge business but then again....
Anne doesn't cease to surprise me! Doesn't she look gorgeous here?
This is Anne again, once we had spotted the Eiffel Tower. Can you spot it? We were very excited.
The first of six or seven spiraling stair cases du jour. Anne and I approximate about two hours of our day being spent walking up and down stairs. Yes, we are hard core.
While we waited to go in to Sainte Chapelle, the employees took lunch and made us wait about ten minutes. I scouted the beautiful "liberty, equality, fraternity" motto of France. I like looking for beautiful things while in line for other things.
Here is the perfect example: meet Leonor Cabrera and her dear daughter-in-law Sofía Acosta de Cabrera, from Buenos Aires, Argentina. These ladies made me largo while in line as they complained about Leonir's other daughter in law. She was also on their trip but was pulling her husband away from his family, or so Sofía let me know. They made me believe in the Argentinian accent again; it honestly believed my love for the accent was forever tainted by VGC. Can I get an amen on that one, Casey P?
Inside Sainte Chapelle. So many beautiful scenes from the Bible are on the walls of this tiny chapel. It's very tall but really tiny in terms of ground area.
On our way to Notre Dame, after having the hardest time finding the Centre Pompidou. We stopped for nothing as we rushed down to the cathedral--nothing except pictures near beautiful buildings, that is.
More stairs. Yes, we walked all the way up to where the picture is taken from, and all the way back down! At the end of the day, I didn't know what was worse, going up or down. I would have have gone horizontal, as in levitate my way up to the top. Can someone please get on that? Merci.
This is my new friend. Congo-born, lived in Algeria as a young child where he learned French and learned to love politics, my friend Oliver is now completing his PhD at a university in Ohio. He asked me to take a picture over him and we bonded over our cameras and how tourists don't know how to use them so while our pictures (as in the ones we take) are amazingly perfect, pictures of us (not taken by us, duh, no selfies with our DSLR's) are always poorly lit and focused and it's not fair because we deserve to be in them sometimes! After our rant, Anne was very forgiving of me and took this beautiful picture.
There she is, in all her shades glory. I took about fifty more, but I figured I'd only post one. You're welcome.
Ok this doesn't count as a picture of the Tower, as it only happens to be in the background. This is the Mendez family, all the way from Distrito Federal, Mexico. They were trying to set a timer for their family picture and I offered to take it so it would look a little better. Recall my conversation with Oliver before; sometimes even the photographer, in this case Zuri, their older daughter, deserves to be in he pictures!
Last picture of the Tower, I promise! This was how lit up it was, at 22:30! It stays light out so late in the day here in Northern Europe. It's been over a week now and I haven't gotten used to it. Last week we were in a plane headed over here, now Anne and I are pros at taking trains and metros and usually find our way soon after realizing we are lost and have no idea where we are headed. Yup, pros.
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