Adieu, Paris

I woke up freakishly early today to help Whitney and her brother off to the airport, after we had stayed up probably a bit too late having a slumber party of sorts and basically catching up on the last 13 years...as well as gossiping about the people we used to know but don't care about enough to actually catch up with them in person, just behind their backs. You know how it is. Through a series of unfortunate incidents the siblings had missed their flight back to the states yesterday, so they came back into Paris to hang out with me and eat more falafel rather than risk their lives and belongings and precious hours of sleep camping out at the airport.

When I finally popped my head out my window later in the morning, the sun was shining and the sky was clear and blue and a single thought hit me: Boat ride! One must always see a city from the water in order to truly know and appreciate it. That's Bonnie Russo wisdom, and it's the truth. I had originally planned to take a boat ride down the Seine on one of my first days in Paris, in order to get a feel for it and a lay of the land, but I was distracted by the metro strike and the joys of walking through cobbled streets. However, today's boat ride seemed like the perfect way to bid farewell to Paris.


My tourist-avoiding strategy seemed to work...I got on the Batobus at the Hotel de Ville stop, one of the least busy ones, and I happened to be early enough (before noon) to beat the big crowds. For 12 euros you can buy a day pass which allows you to hop on and off the boat all day long at any of its eight stops, and the bonus is that it's the only boat service that doesn't have an annoying running commentary or guide. So I hopped on the boat, staked out a prime place on the outdoor deck railing, and pulled out my camera.


The boat ride was fantastic...so relaxing being on the water, in the sunshine, and with my back to all the other passengers it was just me, the water, and Paris. The photo opportunities were overwhelming, as Paris never stops being unabashedly elegant and graceful and stately. I got to see all the sights from the river that I had already toured on foot, a last glimpse of each lovely place.

So until we meet again, Paris, farewell.

Versailles

Eh, Versailles was okay. Wow, that makes me sound like a jaded snob huh? Let me explain...I'm really not like that!

It was really easy to get to...I just hopped on the metro to the nearest RER (commuter rail) station, where I bought a combination Versailles entry ticket and return train ticket. The journey only took about 35 minutes, then from the train station in Versailles it was only a five minute walk to the chateau. You can't miss it, it's rather large...

Instead of the breath-taking, harps-and-trumpets, blow-me-away first view...that's what I saw: acres of tour buses and renovation scaffolding. Hrmph. Once I entered the main gates, I was slightly horrified by the line of people waiting to buy tickets, and I congratulated myself on my foresight to buy my entry ticket at the train station so I was able to walk right in and avoid the queues. Because seriously, right after "Always have lactaid in your pocket" and "Keep your handbag zipped" is my third most important rule of travel, "Always avoid queues."

So I got my handy little audioguide ("En Anglais, s'il vous plait,") ostensibly to educate myself on the palace but also mostly to drown out the shouts and annoying American accents of the throngs of tourists, and toured the open rooms in the palace. The artwork was amazing, and when you could see past the groups of school kids and camcording tourists, the interiors paneled in vibrant marbles and gilt-edged carvings are really impressive. But I found myself hurrying through to find the exit to the gardens, for some fresh air and personal space. I got so tired of being bumped and jostled and trying to weave my way through the crowds that I just adopted a "Keep moving, stop for no one, use the big black handbag as a shield" policy. I usually love to linger in old palaces and historical places, trying to imagine what life was like for people who once lived there, trying to see the place as it must have seemed in its glory days. But that was near impossible being surrounded by the teaming masses.

The gardens were extensive and immaculately groomed, if a bit muddy from morning rains. But for some reason they'd covered all the statues and art work with green tarps, and I had to keep dodging out of the way of the golf carts and trams darting around to ferry lazy tourists from one end of the gardens to the other.

So, I'm sorry to be a bitter and jaded tourist-hating tourist. I kept comparing the experience to my trip to Hampton Court, south of London, last November. Granted, I admit to being far more fascinated and more well-read on English history, particularly the Tudor period, than French history. But Hampton Court was nearly empty, and I strolled through the castles and gardens quietly and lost in courtly intrique and political power plays of centuries past. They even had actors dressed in period costume, and I'm a sucker for that kind of thing.

Paris avec les amies

Whitney, Erin and I decided to meet up at the Jardin du Luxembourg, as Erin had heard there was an afternoon marionette show that she wanted to see. As it turns out, saying "Let's meet at the Jardin du Luxembourg," is sort of similar to saying, "Let's meet in Central Park. Ok, see you there!" So after several confused texts and phone calls,
"I'm near the big horse statue."
"Uhm, I don't see any horses. Lions?"
"Nope. Oh! There are some fountains over here."
"I see a fountain! And some little sail boats?"
"Boats?!"
We did find each other, and even found the puppet show but there were only a few seats left, and we couldn't bring ourselves to take the last seats away from some little French children who really wanted to see the show. So we wandered a bit, found some heavenly gelato at Amorino, then headed back to the metro to come over to my neighborhood. Paris is surprisingly sleepy on Sundays; the streets are fairly empty, and most shops are closed. However, most museums are still open, and Centre Pompidou is open late until 21h00, so we decided to check it out. Fortunately, we all agreed that we pretty much have a one-hour limit in most museums before our attention flags and we get restless...

The Centre Pompidou was really interesting, despite the fact that I generally don't have a huge interest in "modern art." I really don't get it. Like, three blank canvasses on a wall, proclaiming minimalist art? Seriously? And then there was even this...a room full of inflatable furniture.

I'm willing to be the first to accept my failings or lack of artistic sense, because I just don't get it. Of course, some of the pieces were really impressive, and did make me think a bit. My absolute favorite was at the very end of the museum...this bright red, super shiny, larger-than-life sized rhinoceros. There was something about it, I just wanted to touch it, and to bring it home with me.


After the museum we were all starving and since Erin had been craving falafel for months, I took them to the famous As du Falafel, and we stood on street inhaling our "heaven in a pita", hardly stopping to take a breath. They had this red spicy sauce, that was like crack, I couldn't get enough. I will definitely go back there before I leave Paris again.

After dying a happy little food death, we headed to the left bank, to St Germain-des-Pres. We had some time to kill before meeting a few other people, and found ourselves right in front of Les Deux Magots, one of Paris' most famous cafes...a favorite haunt of Hemingway, Picasso, Simone de Beauvior and Jean Sartre. And because "It was once famed for, and prided itself in, its reputation as the rendezvous of the literary and intellectual elite of the city," we of course had to grace the cafe with our presence. All the cafes here have these wonderful heaters on the outdoor seating, so Parisians can continue their favorite past-time of sitting in cafes and people-watching despite falling temperatures. Brilliant.

We ended our night at a tiny cozy bar in St Germain called Zero de Conduit (loosely translated to mean "bad behavior"). All the drinks are served in baby bottles, and they all have cute names based on Disney or cartoon characters. It was definitely a fun and unique experience. It was even more fun knowing that a bar like that would never fly in the US, I'm sure the moral majority would be up in arms proclaiming that it encouraged underaged drinking or somesuch nonsense.

Paris night life

I really do love traveling by myself, figuring out where to go, doing everything at my own pace, all that stuff. But the cool thing about having friends is that it makes going out at night a bit more fun, and definitely less loser-like.


I met my friend Whitney, along with her sister and her brother, at the Buddha Bar, near the Place de la Concorde on Saturday night. This place was really cool. Like the kind of cool place that would make me cool, just by being in it. We had fantastic outrageously overpriced drinks and desert, and did a pretty good job of acting like we were cool enough to be there. Except for the few times we whipped out our cameras and when Whitney broke a glass on her way out. But hey. Whitney's brother was meeting up with an online friend for the first time, and he was super nervous, so he threw back two beers and a shot before heading off to find her. We chuckled at his nervousness, and his concern over how he looked:
("Do I have hat head?"
"Yes, totally!"
He frowns.
"I mean, if that was the look you were going for...uhm...") and generally agreed it was kind of cute. Until it came time to pay the bill..."17 euros for a shot of vodka?" exclaimed Erin. "It's not so cute anymore when I get the bill for my brother's insecurities."

Paris Day Ten

The Musee d'Orangerie is a lovely little museum...just the right size. Monet's Water Lilies are displayed there, in two sky-lit oval rooms designed to replicated the feeling of being in his gardens at Giverny. A collection of Monet, Renoir, Picasso, Utrillo, some Modigliani and a few others is in the basement, but with plenty of natural light from new ceiling-level windows. I was able to see the whole museum in under an hour. Again, the perfect size...not too much, just right.

Also, can someone explain to me the purpose of taking a video camera to a museum? Is there anyone at home who wants to sit through someone's home-made hand-held shaky recording of famous paintings? Wouldn't it be easier to buy the book? Is it more authentic and interesting because there are other tourists wandering through the shot? Because I do not feel bad about walking in from of the video cameras. Like every chance that I get.

The museum is in the Jardins des Tuileries, so I wandered through the gardens for a while before attempting to go to Angelina, which is an English-style tea room reputed to serve the best hot chocolate in Paris. However, the line out the door and down the block deterred me, and I decided to renew my hunt for hot chocolate another day. Like a weekday. Like when there are no lines. Not too many photos today, as it was gray and overcast, and hard to manage a camera with one hand and my tissues in another hand. Still have this nasty cold, but thankfully I am my own best nurse and packed a lifetime supply of tylenol and benadryl.

Le Metro

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Originally uploaded by rosebuttons

I was so excited the first time I saw the art-deco style Metro sign, because it's so classically Parisian. Then I learned that there are 87 Metro signs that look like that. But that doesn't make it any less cool.

However, this Metro entrance near the Louvre is definitely unique, and very cool.

So that's all I have for you today. I'm fighting off a nasty sore throat/cold thingy...if I were at home in Seattle, it would definitely be a reason to call in sick with the universal, "I just fee like ass," excuse. But since I'm here on vacation I'm trying to deny that I feel bad at all. I simply blame my runny nose and cough on the slight chill in the air and my puffy watery eyes on the departure of a dear friend.

BUT another good friend is coming into Paris tomorrow, and she promises to take me out and we're going to stroll down the Champs Elysee at night, and go shopping, and take silly tourist pictures of each other. I need a distraction and a friendly face :)

This afternoon I bought myself a brown furry blanket to curl up with (I think I'm missing my little doggies), downloaded the latest Grey's Anatomy, and holed up in my apartment with a pain au chocolate and some orange juice.


Ilsa: What about us?
Rick: We'll always have Paris. We didn't have it, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.

Paris Day Eight

While I had a general plan for my Paris jaunt today, it was all of the accidental discoveries that I made that really made my day. I set off first on the metro to find the Grande Mosquee de Paris...both because it's the oldest mosque in Paris (not sure there are a very many though?) and also because despite spending four months in an Islamic country, I never once entered a mosque...Islamic law and all. So I've always been intrigued to go inside one. I got off the metro and was a bit lost, so I turned a corner and saw a little park and wandered into it to find a bench so I could sit down and pull out my Paris Practique (best little map book ever!! It's invaluable, sort of like the London A-Z).

The park I wandered into turned out to be the Arenne de Lutece, and ancient Roman amphitheatre. Apparently they always knew it was supposed to be here, but no one could find until in the late 19th century they were excavating to build a road here and happened upon these ruins.

The mosque was beautiful, I love the brightly colored mosaics and the fountains.


I had lunch in the restaurant at the mosque, where I had delicious harira (Moroccan soup) and and eggplant salad, eating off a low copper table. Finished off with a cup of mint tea, of course.


On my way to my next stop, I noticed another park so I decided to take a short cut through there. Suddenly, peeping at me through the fence, was a little wallaby! I guess I had wandered into the Jardin des Plantes, which has a zoo in it.


Then I went to the Institut du Monde Arabe. The permanent collection of art from the Islamic world was a little disappointing...but I discovered the terrace on top of the building and caught some gorgeous views of the Seine and Notre Dame. The building itself was really cool, as it's covered in metal work which are actually thousands of apertures which open and close depending on the amount of light available to let in.


Finally, since I was in the neighborhood, I decided to walk past the Pantheon, where the remains of Victor Hugo, Rousseau, and others are intombed. It used to be a church but Napoleon turned it into a mausoleum, removing all religious symbolism and even covering all the windows. I didn't go inside, just walked around then headed back to the metro. After stopping for an afternoon snack of pain au chocolate, of course.

On my way back to my apartment, I happened to glance through an open door, just two doors down from my entrance. I found the cutest little alleyway full of boutiques and galleries. I've been here for a week, and never even noticed it before. A wonderful little surprise to end my day of surprises.

Paris Day Seven

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Originally uploaded by rosebuttons

Today started out sunny but turned out to be gray and overcast. Nevertheless, I still walked everywhere, although I had intentions of just hopping on the metro to get to the various locations on my agenda for today. However, once I'm out and walking, and I consult the map for the nearest metro stop, I invariably think, "Oh, if I walk just a few more blocks I can get to the next station and I won't have to transfer lines then." And then I walk a few more blocks and I think, "Well, sheesh, now I'm halfway hope, I may as well just keep walking..."

I may have finally mastered the Parisian art of scarf-tying. Not to pat myself on the back, but I wore my cute little pink scarf today and no less than five people stopped me to ask for directions, and then a cigarette, and then a light, and there was an amusing fellow who sat down next to me in a park and struck up a conversation...all in French. So either people were feeling unusually chatty today, or I like to think that my expertly tied scarf fooled them into thinking I was a native... :)


First I went to the Musee Picasso today, which I really liked. For some reason I sort of enjoy the museums that are focused on one artist...it seems more complete and I can concentrate more, not get overstimulated. I'm simple like that I guess. Most of Picasso's most famous works are spread in other museums throughout the world, but it was interesting to see so many others to get a different perspective on his work. The museum is in a grand old mansion, the Hotel Sale. Almost as much as I enjoy the museums, I love wandering through the palatial old homes they are usually in, imagining what it was like living there.


I had a lovely lunch at a cafe after wandering through the Place des Vosges, and lingered over my cafe au lait, then headed down the rue de Rivoli to the Museum of European Photography. I timed my visit perfectly to arrive after 5pm, when the museum is free on Wednesdays. I get so much more satisfaction from something when it's free! I'm just cheap like that I guess.

Finally, I wandered all the way home, bypassing multiple metro stops. It was starting to be rush hour, with everyone heading home from work, so I was getting a little bothered by the crowds. I went around the Centre Pompidou from the south this time, and discovered the sculpture fountain hidden back there that I hadn't seen yet despite all my walks past it.

Paris, day off

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Originally uploaded by rosebuttons

While sight-seeing and wandering and exploring are my favorite ways of spending my days, I must admit that it does get a bit tiring. It's sort of like a job, but the best job ev-AH. I wake up in the mornings, brew my coffee and nibble on my pain au chocolat, review my guide books and notes, consult the maps, and the metro map, then set off to see Paris. I come back home about 8 hours later, collapse on the couch, download my photos, then finally relax.

Last night I met up with un vieux ami and we stayed up till the wee hours of the Paris morning, drinking wine and catching up. So after a good lie-in this morning, I decided to take the day off. I didn't open a guide book, I didn't look at my maps. I just wandered through my neighborhood to a falafel place, L'As du Falafel, which got rave reviews in every single guide book, got some lunch, then I just napped and did some real-life things...I cleaned up my apartment, figured out how to use the washing machine, and went to Monoprix down the street to stock up on some things.

Mon dieux! Monoprix! Is awesome! It's a mini-department store, kind of a like a little Target, but of course way cooler, because it's French :) This time I was wise and brought my own shopping bags, because I learned last time, the hard way, that they'll only give you two little plastic bags. Not very handy for shlepping bottles of wine back to the apartment.

Tonight I'm contemplating an evening boat ride on the Seine to the Eiffel Tower to see it all lit up night....or I may just stay in and relax some more. And also, that crazy tiny French washing machine sounds like it's preparing for a space launch so perhaps I should stay here to monitor it...

So, I apologize to you, my dear armchair travelers, that I have no fabulous photos or exciting travel adventures to share with you. I leave you with this, the highlight of my day, my very excellent falafel lunch followed by a tarte framboise. Mmmm.

For Faye

"Hi Faye, I'm an adorable little quiche. An epinard et chevre quiche, to be exact. I am absolutely bursting with goat cheese goodness."

The nouances of language say so much about a culture. Like for example, the French say fromage for cheese, and chevre for goat cheese. Goat cheese is so special that it would be silly to call it fromage du chevre, it must elegantly have it's own name. But in English we have to call it goat cheese, as clumsy and unappetizing as that sounds.

I saw dead people

Maybe this makes me macabre, or dark, but I loved Pere Lachaise Cemetery. Sure, there were a few tourists, but I wandered for hours feeling completely isolated but surrounded by dead people. It was oddly comforting and peaceful, and a beautiful place. Like a little town all by itself, on a green and quiet hillside, full of sleeping families waiting for more loved ones to come home. The tombs and graves were all individual works of art, sculpture, and architecture. Some simply had inscriptions of the family names, and some had moving poems or messages.

First I visited the tomb of Abelard and Heloise, my number-one reason for visiting. If you don't know the romantic story of these star-crossed 12th-century lovers, go read it now. In short, Abelard was a philosopher who moved into the house of Canon Fulbert. He fell in love with Heloise, the Canon's niece, who was supposedly a great beauty and one of the most well-educated women of her time. However, she was 20 years younger than Abelard and her uncle forbade the relationship and they were forced to part. They secretly married, and she had his baby but had to give him up to her sister to raise. Their love scandalized their community and changed their lives. They lived the rest of their lives apart, never marrying anyone else, but their love survived in eloquent letters. Six hundred years later, upon learning of enduring love story, Josephine Bonaparte was so moved by it that she ordered both of their remains dug up and entombed together in Pere Lachaise. After wandering lost for a while, I finally found their final resting place, although it was covered in scaffolding for renovation. At both of their feet was a little dog, watching them, waiting for them to wake up. Something about the story and the tomb and the little stone dog moved me to tears...maybe it was the cemetery and all the dead people around me, too. So yeah, beneath my snarky cynical exterior I am a bit of a romantic.


After noisily blowing my nose and wiping my tears (thank God for enormous sunglasses) I set off to visit some more dead people...Oscar Wilde, Colette, Sarah Bernhardt, Edith Piaf, and Frederick Chopin were among my stops. I even saw some grave diggers and a funeral taking place...strange to be walking among so much history and stories but having real life keep going on in the same place.

And yes, I did visit Jim Morrison's grave. As Stephanie knows, some of his songs were an important part of the soundtrack of our college years. There was no one else there, which was nice, although I was a little disappointed I didn't to get a photo of the requisite dreadlocked white college kid at the grave site...

And on the way out, I even made a friend, because cemeteries are cool like that. Some random French guy asked me if he could show me around to his favorite grave sites (ah, romance, Paris-style!) but I had to say, "Merci, non," as I needed to get back home. But we did chat for a bit, and it was an interesting end to my day with dead people.

To you and with you, always my heart. -Me

Love is more poignant in French.

Paris Day Five

Today was probably my most favoritest day in Paris so far (see, I'm so French I can't even speak good English anymore!). Sure, my other days have been filled with delicious pastries, wonderful wine, world famous art works, and exquisite architecture. But today was simple and quiet and I only spent two euros for the pleasure of it :)

My first stop this morning (after braving the post office) was Sacre Coeur, in Montmartre. I've been stalking Sacre Coeur from all the rooftops in Paris, obsessively taking photos of her on the horizon. I'm enamored with the sparkling white dome and turrets, perhaps because it seems so exotic, perhaps Middle Eastern? And I was excited the wander the hilly, curving cobbled streets of Montmartre, the neighborhood surrounding the white church....the same streets wandered by Renoir, Doisneau, Van Gogh, Utrillo, Matisse, Satie...the list is breathtaking.

I took the funicular, a cute litte tram car (like the incline in Pittsburgh, only newer!) to the top of the butte where Sacre Coeur perches. (The adolescent in me still giggles at the word BUTT on signs everywhere. But I immaturely digress.)
And I loved it up there! People lolled about on the steps, a harp player serenaded us, and Paris spread out lazily below in all directions.


I went inside, but unfortunately photography was not allowed in there. Neither was talking, since a mass was in session, so it was prenaturally silent despite the numbers of people in there. It wasn't the biggest or the oldest or the most elaborate churches I've seen, but it just might be my favorite. Maybe because it felt so serene and quiet, maybe because I knew I was perched so high above Paris, maybe the domes. I would even have lit a candle if I was into God and the whole Jesus thing.


I lollygagged on the steps outside for a while, finally heading back down the stairs to find a little cafe for lunch. Then I headed back the base of the butte (*snicker*) to the metro, and hopped on, over the Pere Lachaise Cemetery.

Paris Day Four

Uff. I am very tired of crowds and tourists and other people. I know I know, I'm one of them too. And it's not that they're all that bad, I've just reached my limit of standing in lines, trying to walk down the sidewalk when the people in front of me suddenly stop, mid-stride and mid-sidewalk, to consult a map. And the endless, "Pardons," when I'm trying to get through a doorway but someone has decided it would be a great place to stand for a while. I suppose it's sort of my fault, since I decided to visit three top tourist attractions on a beautiful Sunday. Today I went to the Eiffel Tower, L'Hotel des Invalides, and the Musee Rodin. The Eiffel Tower? Awesome. Actually really beautiful close up, more than I'd sort of expected an enormous metal structure to be.

I did not go up it, however. The queue was much too daunting, and the sign said the wait was an hour long. Then I contemplated taking the stairs to the second level, but when I saw the stairs, my scaredy-afraid-of-heights self said NO WAY. I'm okay standing on top of tall buildings, especially tall really solid buildings, as long as I don't look straight down. But open metal things, where you can see right down to the bottom as you're climbing to the top? No thanks. Anyway, I saw some amazing views of Paris from both Notre Dame and the Arc de Triomphe. Maybe later this week, when I meet up with some friends, they'll be able to convince me to try it. Till then, I am entirely content to contemplate the tower from ground level. I wandered through the park at the base of the tower, watching my step and dodging all the broken glass from the drunken rugby revelry the night before, then I headed off to the Hotel des Invalides.


I mostly skipped the attached Musee d'Armee, both because most of the Napoleonic section was closed for renovations and it's all guns and war and stuff. But the Eglise St Louis, the church where Napoleon's tomb is, was definitely worth a visit. It's a beautiful structure, and the tomb itself is appropriately excessive and impressive. The Invalides is still a working hospital for veterans, although the surrounding gardens and the setting is a stark contrast to my current place of employment. Perhaps they're hiring.

Oh no! There are some patients! Turn away, you are not on duty now.

I found some lunch at an Italian cafe on the rue Cler, then headed off to the Musee Rodin. I spent a while wandering the gardens, and toured the museum itself. I loved it, despite the fact that Camille Claudel's works were all on loan to a museum in Spain. All of Rodin's human figures look like people that he set free from marble or clay or bronze, it's absolutely amazing. They are so raw and tense, I almost felt like I was intruding on them in a private moment. And of course I visited The Thinker. So go rent Camille Claudel, then come to the Musee Rodin and sit in the gardens with your baguette for a while. I highly recommend it.


After the museum, I'd had it with crowds so I hopped on the metro to come home. I tried to find a little tabac or grocery store on my way, but everything was closed because it's Sunday afternoon. Fortunately, a few blocks from my apartment is the Centre Pompidou, and all the shops and cafes there were still open. So naturally, I bought a nutella and banana crepe and ate it on the steps of the Centre Pompidou and people-watched for a bit.

And now, I'm tired. This vacationing thing is hard work, but only in the best way. I'm falling for Paris, even though I feel a bit like I'm cheating on London, my first love.

Oh, p.s., if you just can't get enough of pictures of Paris, there are more on my flickr page.
But there's an embarrassing amount of photos there, so brew a cuppa or uncork a bottle and put your feet up first before you start looking through them...

The British invade France

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Originally uploaded by rosebuttons

There were crazy Brits like this all over Paris today, here for the rugby. They were all dressed like this, or in matching red and white jerseys and hats. Most of them were trying to figure how to get as drunk as possible for as little money as possible. They were pretty obnoxious, too. Now I'm not sure if they're more or less annoying than the American tourists, as I'd like to think that at the very least, the Brits know better. As Elly said, "That's exactly why the French hate us."

Paris Day Three

Being Saturday today, I was a bit wary of venturing out amongst the throngs of tourists, but decided to chance it and headed off to the Arc de Triomphe and the Avenue des Champs Elysees. A lot of the metro is running again, at least the lines I needed, so I hopped on a few blocks from my apartment and ended up at the end of the Champs Elysees. I am happy to report that despite walking for miles yesterday, I have not one blister on my feet...so to everyone who helped me with my seemingly never-ending search for comfortable-but-chic walking shoes, thank you! However, I was rather achey today, especially my calves. I couldn't figure it out, wondering if I had a funny walk that really used my lower legs or something. Seriously, if I do have a funny walk, damn you all for never pointing it out. BUT once I started climbing the 264 stairs to the top of the Arc de Triomphe, my little legs promptly remembered climbing all those winding stairs to the top of Notre Dame. Ah well.

But the view from the top...it was amazing, and it was a clear blue-sky day as well. Down the other end of the Champs Elysees, you can see the modern square arch, La Defense, and the modern skyscraper office buildings surrounding it. As I took a photo of this, the American tourist next to me said to his friend, "So, is like, those buildings, are they more modern? Like, newer?" I think I was unable to keep my snarky, "Uff...Americans," under my breath, and I quickly moved away. Ah well.

After climbing down the windy stairs and getting a bit dizzy, I emerged at the base of the Arc and wandered about like a drunk for a bit then managed to find my way down the famous Champs Elysees. I stopped into Laduree, a tea shop and patisserie that I'd read about.

Oh, the choices! I didn't at all mind the long queue or the American in front of me ("Gimme a chocolate one. Yeah, that one. Oh, gimme three more.") because I could have stood in a sugar-induced visual coma for ages. In end, I chose eight delectable mini macarons and a packet of raspberry flavored hand-made marshmallows.

Then I continued my walk down the avenue, and turned off at one point when I saw some cool looking huge buildings off to my right. Turned out they were the Petit Palais and the Grand Palais, and the street led to the Pont Alexandre. That's the bridge with all the elaborate lamp posts and sculptures. Remember it from Sex and the City? How about from the Sopranos, when Carmela and Ro win the trip to Paris? Or yeah, maybe you just know it from history class or because you're a cultured person. Whatever. I am not ashamed of my pop culture heritage.


Before I'd left, my dear mum sent me a link to a Rick Steves page about tourist scams in Europe. One of the famous Paris scams is the "Gold Ring." A man tosses a gold ring in front of you, then acts like you dropped it and tries to give it back to you. I think if you take it he tries to get you to give him money or something, I'm not sure. Anyway, while I was on the bridge snapping photos, a shiny gold ring landed at my feet. Sure enough, a man approached and picked it up, and tried to hand it to me. But because I am wordly and wise and Rick Steves and my mum got my back, I was not fooled. (Besides, why would I have a gold ring? Gold is not my color. White gold, platinum, maybe. But gold? Seriously.) However, my initial reaction to his advances was my automatic reaction to annoying street people in Saudi: I shook my head and walked away, saying, "Laa laa laa, maafi!" It means "No, no, no, nothing!" So what if I came across as a loony singing American, the man promptly turned away and left me alone. I am so multilingual I can't handle myself.

After a detour on the bridge, I crossed over onto the left bank and headed down Boulevard St Germain (you know, like the music group?). I had lunch at a cafe, sitting outside and sipping red wine of course. I was treated to overhearing the conversation of a table full of English lager louts, obviously in town for the rugby. "I've only got 15 Euros left, how much beer can I buy with that? I think I'll be good and drunk after this one, but I've got to keep it going." Ah, cultural afficianados. At least I could be fairly certain they would not be following me to the Musee D'Orsay.

The Musee D'Orsay is in a renovated train station, and seeing the interior of the building was nearly worth the visit alone. I quickly discovered why I was charged a reduced ticket price, because the museum was closing early in respect for the transit strike. So I dodged the hoards of tourists, checked out some Van Gogh and Monet and Rodin, and left. But I should definitely go back.

After the museum, I strolled down Blvd St Germain and did some window shopping (as the French say, "Leches vitrines," literally, "Licking the windows,"). I had my hand on my camera the whole time, but I was frozen by the beauty of my surroundings. Everywhere i looked was postcard-perfect, I didn't know what to take a picture of, so I finally gave up and just strolled, taking it all in. I finally caught the metro back to my neighborhood, stopped in a cafe for a coffee and to enjoy my macarons, then came back to my apartment.

I believe I'll stay in tonight, as I could already hear the chants of the rugby fans oozing out bars and taverns. Anyway, I've got a big date with a bottle of wine and the rest of my macarons in my apartment.

Caught with her pants down

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Originally uploaded by rosebuttons

I couldn't resist taking this photo of this Parisian toddler in the Place des Vosges park, getting wrangled into a diaper change. She is already perfecting her French scowl, a perfect blend of annoyance and boredom. "I'm so over this," she says.

La Joconde

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Originally uploaded by rosebuttons

The Mona Lisa. Notice the guards who are supposed to be doing their job and keeping people from taking photos. They are so French that they are bored by themselves. The French are really good at looking bored.

Le Louvre a nuit

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Originally uploaded by rosebuttons

The photo is a shot from inside the IM Pei pyramid at the Louvre, looking up.

Tonight I walked to the Louvre, it turned out to take only 20 minutes. It might have taken a little less but I was lured to the Seine by the sun setting. I was hoping it would be less crowded, being so late in the evening, but there were still gobs of people there. And something that people like to do is photograph themselves in front of famous works of art. First of all, seeing weird tourists pose in front of Winged Victory or the Mona Lisa, I sort of cringe. I mean, seriously, if I'm you're friend of family member, I either want to see the Mona Lisa or I want to see you on holiday. But both in the same shot? Lame. I want to apologize to the Mona LIsa because obviously does not want to be part of your family album. I mean, she's guarded by three guards, a state-of-the-art security system, behind two barriers, and bullet-proof glass. But now she's in your family album too, right next to Auntie Bev and her fanny pack. Leonardo is rolling in his grave. Don't you think your photo of the painting is proof enough that you were really there? Or even a postcard or print from the museum shop? I'm just annoyed because it's annoying waiting for dorky tourists in dorky sweaters to get their big faces out of my shot.

So anyway, I did a quick visit tonight...I was tired and the crowds were getting too much. And it's the Louvre, so it naturally warrants more than one visit while I'm here, so I don't feel bad about doing a quick visit to see a few big things. And seeing the pyramid all lit up at night was pretty cool too.

Paris Day Two

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Originally uploaded by rosebuttons

Today I think I've officially hit my stride and I'm relaxing into this vacation mode. Armed with my camera and a wee map book, I set off to wander. The transit workers are still mostly on strike today, so I planned to stay within walking distance of my apartment. As it turns out, Paris is perfect for walking. If I'd gone underground I would have missed so much. And the photos...so many photos! I could have randomly aimed my camera with my eyes closed and caught beautiful shots...

I started out on the Ile de la Cite, in the middle of the Seine. First I wandered a bit then went into Sainte Chapelle. When I first entered the church, in the lower chapel, I admit a had a moment of, "Oh. That's it?" until I found the stairs and entered the upper chapel, and I had a bigger moment of, "Oh. This is it." The stained-glass windows were amazing. I suppose each window has some biblical significance, but I'm not much for that kind of stuff. I just like pretty, and it sure was.

Then off to Notre Dame. I wandering in the cathedral for a bit, and stumbled upon the noon mass. It was in French...I was a little disappointed it wasn't in Latin. Not that I would have listened to it anyway, but it would have completed the experience. Then I queued up outside to climb the stairs to the top. I happened to be in line behind an American family. I think they might have been afraid they would forget where they were, because each of them wore a piece of clothing with PARIS FRANCE emblazoned on it. Kudos to them for finding the airport gift shop before even entering the city.

While I'm convinced that narrow, winding staircases will be the death of my and my clumsy feet, I did make it up all 400 steps to the viewing deck, and it was worth it, to meet the sneering gargoyles and see all of Paris stretched before me.

After Notre Dame, I found a cafe on the Ile St Louis for lunch. I think I actually ordered my meal in French, and I must have been somewhat successful since I got what I thought I had ordered.

On the way back, I stopped in the Place des Vosges park for some people-watching, wandering down the rue des Rosiers in the Jewish quarter, and popped into the Musee Carnavalet to learn about the history of Paris (but mostly because it was free and I wanted to use the loo).


And now, I'm off to the Louvre. Because it's open late on Friday nights, and because, hey, I'm in Paris :)