Bonjour!
This past weekend I had the privilege of exploring the beautiful city of Paris. I had heard some horror stories about the French and their disdain of American tourists, but luckily for us we were either ignorant enough to have no idea we were being mistreated or charming enough that the French were willing to give our attempts to fit in an 'A' for effort. Even now being back in London for two days, I can't quite break the habit of saying bonjour, merci, and pardon (with the accent on the 'o'). I'm a frightening out-of-control tri-lingual anomaly at the moment. I also had to adjust my pedestrian habits because French drivers actually stop for people crossing the street, while Londoners would rather kill you than be late.
On Friday, we walked to Kings Cross at 4:20 AM (coffee was soon obtained, thank God) and were in Paris by about 9 AM (mind you, France is an hour ahead of England). We proceeded to optimistically proceed with our baggage to walk to the Arc de Triomphe since we couldn't check into our hotel until 2. Unfortunately, we underestimated how the gap on the map translated to real life and with much pain in our backs and uncomfortably full bladders we got some pictures of the Arc and quickly moved on to find seats, food, and toilets. We ate 'The London Breakfast' (so, so, so ironic) outside at a cafe (the weather was gorgeous bt dubs - at least 75 degrees and sunny) where we had our first interaction with the French. Our waiter was beyond nice and seemed to be very excited to say 'cheers' to us on every possible occasion. I was immediately at ease with being an American in Paris.
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| The Arc de Triomphe |
From there we walked to the Eiffel Tower, which was not what I was expecting. Maybe it's because I've only seen it in the movies lit up, but the huge metal structure in the daylight was less glamorous than I expected. Still, the mall full of green grass and the chance to put my bags down and lay in the sun more than made up for any disappointment. I think one of the most important life lessons I'm learning over here is that sometimes rudeness is necessary. It sounds horrible, but with all the hawkers roaming around one moment of kindness can cost you three euro (as I discovered by making eye contact and smiling as I passed a man who then proceeded to force a string bracelet upon me and demand payment).
Then it was time for the most challenging part of the day: learning how to use the French metro system and finding our hotel. The map my flat-mate had lent me proved to be invaluable and I became a metro pro after a bit of trial and error. After much more walking and some directions from a man on the street we found our hotel. We had our own room but shared a toilet for the whole corridor, but overall I have no complaints. Even though it was a bit grimy, it was exactly what I imagined a cheap Paris room to look like - huge windows that opened to a balcony overlooking the street, charming little beds and a bureau, the feeling of comfortable wear and tear in the city. We dropped off our things and then went back towards central Paris to find a place to eat dinner. We found a little cafe/bakery and I ate a chocolate thing with a name I could not pronounce in the mall by the Musee du Louvre in the warm spring air before walking up the Champs Elysees (Shaump ee lee zay). As sleep deprivation and fatigue took its toil and tempers began flaring we called our wandering quits and went home to get a good night's sleep for the next day's adventures.
Saturday we took the metro to the Palace of Versailles, sampled hot chocolate at Angelina's, visited the Louvre, then rushed back to the hotel for a bite to eat and a change of clothes before our bus tour and Moulin Rouge show. At the bakery we stopped at for a quick sandwich an older gentleman engaged us in conversation seeming to want to practice his English and rather than give a bad impression of Americans, I let him ramble on to the point that we were almost late. We made it to the meeting point, sweating and panting in our dresses and heels only to find out that they had only booked us two spots by mistake. Thankfully, they fixed it and we went on an "Illumination Tour" of Paris's major landmarks by night. The Eiffel Tower was much more impressive when it was sparkling. Because they ended up having to wait until the later Moulin Rouge show, we then had a boat tour along the Seine in between which was perfectly awful because it was raining and there were too many people for the seats that were safe from the elements. I ended up sharing a random stairwell with an elderly German couple who redeemed the boat trip with how delightful they were. They only spoke enough English to establish that I was American and they were German and we both knew of Boston (where the husband's sister lived), oh and the wife offered me chewing gum. They were beyond sweet.
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| The Palace of Versailles |
Then after waiting in line for ages, we took our (cramped) seats in Moulin Rouge with two English couples celebrating one of their 70th birthdays. We shared a couple bottles of Champagne and watched the most intriguing show I've ever seen. So. Many. Boobs. The French really are all about nudity. There was also a juggler, acrobats, and a really hilarious ventriloquist (all fully clothed), so overall it was pretty awesome. Afterwards, our tour bus took us back to our hotel and we passed out from an exhausting but epic day.
Sunday we started off with visiting the Musee D'Orsay, personally one of my favorite parts about the trip. I've recently become quite enamored of Van Gogh (cough, after watching the Doctor Who episode 'Vincent and the Doctor.' Don't judge me.) and D'Orsay had a pretty good-sized collection, along with some other really amazing pieces. It was much better than at the Louvre where everyone just wanted to see the Mona Lisa and therefore I was unable to appreciate it as a work of art because all I could see were peoples' heads as they jostled me in the ribs. The experience sparked a really interesting conversation between Kait and I about what makes art good. It seems to me the crowd around the Mona Lisa was only there because they knew of it, but there were tons of other paintings that I would saw were just as intriguing as a woman without eyebrows. Of course I realize it's completely subjective and people could say I only like Van Gogh because I know of him, but I actually was drawn into his work whereas the mass swarming the Mona Lisa made it seem like a cheap tourist attraction in my opinion. But perhaps this is a topic for a different blog post.
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| D'Orsay |
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| The Louvre |
After the museum we walked along the river towards Notre Dame, admiring the little street venders along the way. We popped in the Cathedral for a bit, did some souvenir shopping, and ended our adventures with sandwiches, cheese, and wine sitting outside at the Cafe de Notre Dame before making our way back to the train station.
On a scale of 1 to 'perfect,' I'd give the trip a solid 'pretty fricken fan-tastic.' Merci, Paris. Au revoir!
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