Waking up this morning I was excited, sad and nervous. I was really excited to get back to Paris for another visit, I was sad to be leaving London and more importantly Theresa, and I was really nervous to be on my own in a country where everyone speaks French. I don’t speak French (6 years of Spanish and living in Ecuador and the Dominican Republic were not going to help here). I headed by tube to St. Pancras station early in the morning. I was really excited to be on the EuroStar and to go in the Chunnel. I’d always wanted to do that and thankfully the fire that took place in one of the tubes of the Chunnel a few weeks ago had not stopped my ability to do this. I have to say, while interesting and nice…it is a long dark tunnel! You don’t see much but none-the-less my inner geek was happy and I did enjoy the French countryside as well as a quick nap.
Arriving in Paris Gard Du Nord I hopped a taxi so I could head first to the hotel and drop luggage and then wanted to be on my way quickly to see some sites. My hotel in the 8th Arindonsement was perfectly located (though it took me a while to realize where the heck I was compared to other things), comfortable and I had a nice little balcony. I wasn’t here for the hotel, though, so I quickly headed for the Champs Elysees and decided to have a quick bite so I’d have the energy to go around town. I sat at an outdoor café and the waiter came up to me…first time I got to try my French. I said bonjour and he launched into something and then saw the look of terror on my face. At this point he said something about English and brought me a different menu to which I said “Gracias.” He came back and I ordered by pointing. Throughout my meal I continued to respond to his French in Spanish with a Si and a Gracias. I couldn’t seem to get myself to stop. I found myself chuckling as I knew that Sophia and Antonio would get a kick out of my trying to use Spanish since a year and a half ago we went to Spain for Alex’s baptism and they couldn’t get me to speak Spanish at all! It now seemed if I heard anything other than English I assumed Spanish was an appropriate response.
I walked along the Champs to the Garden Tuileries which took me past the exhibit of the 100th year of aviation being coordinated by the Paris Air and Space museum. The planes lined up on the side of the Champs was totally cool. They had everything from old to new. One plane in particular made me think of my mother’s book about the Wright Brothers. It was an old plane that was the first ever to do the Loop d’ loop. As I approached the Louvre I decided to ask someone to take a picture of me (another thing of traveling alone is that a lot of your pictures are of things/places and not people). I saw a kind looking woman and held my camera indicating I wanted her to take a picture. As she took it I heard her speaking Spanish to the two other women with her. Bingo! I could talk to these people. I took their photo and we talked a bit in Spanish. They were visiting from Spain and the eldest was very excited that I spoke Spanish.
That afternoon I must have walked half the city. The Champs, the Louvre, to Pont Neuf and then to Notre Dame. Unfortunately I didn’t get to climb Notre Dame as by the time I arrived they had let the last group up for the climb. I decided to walk back to my hotel now that I had my bearings. Up the Rue St. Honore (clearly a shopping mecca) and then up the Rue Royal to the intersection of Blvd. Malesherbes and Blvd. Haussmann which my hotel was just off of at the Place St. Augustin. As I got close to my hotel my feet were screaming at me and just in the knick of time I saw a crepe stand. A nutella crepe and an orangina were all I needed to finish the trek and put my feet up.
Thursday morning I woke up and had an immediate feeling of being overwhelmed. How was I going to get through an entire day of speaking only in my very poor, and quite limited, French? I have traveled very little on my own and the thought of an entire day with no conversations was also going to be a challenge. I figured what other choice did I have. I could stay in the hotel and watch CNN and BBC all day and get depressed over the economy or I could brave it and see the things I’d come to see. So I headed out on foot and walked the 10 or 15 minutes to the Seine and crossed the Pont de la Concorde to head towards one of my favorite activities in Paris, a visit to the Musee D’Orsay. A woman came up to me and started asking something in French. When I responded I don’t know French she said “oh even better, English.” She and her husband and their two friends were in from Toronto and had just arrived that morning. We stood on the edge of the Seine and I impressed myself by giving them the visual tour of where things were in relation to our spot.
I arrived at the Musee D’Orsay and took it all in. It is a great museum that is in an old train station so it has soaring ceilings and several clocks, one of which you can look through and see the Sacre Coeur. They had a Picasso and Manet exhibit going on so I made sure to check that out. I walked up the stairs to take in the view from the top. As I walked up the stairs I saw a girl that I thought I knew. I couldn’t place her…more on that later. I wandered through taking in the art and then decided I was hungry. I looked at the museum map and saw that they had a restaurant. I headed over expecting a cafeteria and was very surprised to see one of the most beautiful rooms ever. I sat by the window and ate lunch looking out at the river (again with Spaniards next to me so I could eavesdrop since it wasn’t French). I immediately realized why people have told me to bring something to read when dining alone. I didn’t really didn’t know what to do with myself. If I’d been at home I’d have been on my blackberry or phone or something. Here I was with nothing to do but take in the moment. I did manage to read the museum literature several times!
Next stop the Rodin sculpture museum and gardens. I’d not seen this last time I was in Paris so it was a must see. I could walk quite easily from the D’Orsay. The gardens here are amazing. So pristine with sculptures such as Man Thinking and the Gates of Hell scattered throughout. Even a peak at the top of the Eiffel Tower as you wander through. A wonderful place to sit and do your own thinking (or drawing as many were doing).
In the middle of the gardens is a villa full of Rodin sculptures. I stopped on a landing on the stairs and took a picture of one of the pieces that had been replicated from the top portion of the Gates of Hell. As I turned to walk up the stairs I saw the same girl from the Musee D’Orsay. Again I thought, how do I know her? Did she go to American University? Had I worked with her in some capacity? I was staring a bit and she smiled at me. We walked past each other (she with her boyfriend) and then it struck me. She looked exactly like Barbara Bush (no not the silver haired Barbara Bush but one of the twins). I thought that there was no way it could be her. She would have secret service. That was when I noticed the two men staring at me staring at her…her secret service. Hopefully I’m not on the secret services most wanted list now. Very strange to see the daughter of the President of the United States in France up close and personal. Now on seemed to even notice her and she was clearly just being a tourist with no major entourage or motorcade.
The remainder of my day had me wandering the streets looking for the Paris Catacombs. These catacombs were created when masses of people were dying of various “plagues.” Ultimately I found them, with some help from both Sophia and Maribel back in New York (internet access should be everywhere). Unfortunately closed for the day after nearly two hours of searching. I hopped the subway (very useful but makes New York’s subway seem almost nice – careful of the doors that you can open when still traveling at quite some speed). I exited in Marais which is an area of very artsy residents. Wandered around a bit peeking in windows and galleries and then, again on foot, back to the hotel. On the way back I picked up a baguette (from a great boulangerie on Rue St. Honore) and some amazing pate (from a shop just down from my hotel called Albert Menes Boutique (www.albertmenes.fr) located on Blvd. Malesherbes) to eat for dinner.
That evening I planned to head to the Arc du Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower to see the lights of Paris (isn’t this the city of lights?). What an amazing thing to do, though I hear the French think that this light show is just awful. The tower was blue with gold stars for the European Union and I sat in front to see the show. The lights are so dramatic but I can understand why the French don’t like it. It would be like putting flashing lights all over the Statue of Liberty I suppose. Walking back to the hotel I was again exhausted and knew that I would sleep like a baby.
This Friday morning I woke up with the same feeling of being overwhelmed. I’d made it through one day without much hassle. How would I get through this last day in Paris on my French? What was I going to do in all these other non-English speaking countries? My French had improved and my confidence in it had improved but last night I had said bonjour to the shop-keeper where I got my pate…as I was leaving the store! I again mustered the courage to step out into this foreign city and as usual was glad I did. I was bound and determined to make it to the catacombs this morning. I headed there on the subway now knowing exactly where it was. There are certain things you should do when you travel alone and certain things you shouldn’t do while you travel alone. The catacombs is certainly on the latter side of the equation. It is creepy and dark and you walk through piles of bones on either side of you in tunnels so low that you have to duck your head to get through. I’m glad I went but the tour sign said it would take forty-five minutes and it took me twenty! One thing I learned there is that while I am giving thought to so many career concepts there is one I won’t take…guarding the bones in the catacombs. There were attendants all through the tunnels and I can’t think of a much more horrible job than sitting in the dark all day with a bunch of bones telling people not to use their flash!
From here I decided to head back the Louvre and see some art and get some lunch. I had such a good experience at the Musee D’Orsay restaurant why not test the Louvre. Unfortunately it was more like what I’d originally envisioned. A cafeteria (though in fairness there are a lot of restaurants there). I then wandered through some of the halls of the museum. It is so gigantic and crowded and my feet where worn out from so many days of walking in London and Paris. I decided to rest in the Gardens Tuileries. I passed the many beggars that were trying to catch people’s attention by pretending they’d found a gold ring, which they’d conveniently dropped as they bent to pick it up for you and walked into the gardens. I found a great spot on what was turning out to be an unseasonably warm day for Paris (even the Parisians were parting ways with their Hermes scarves and Channel jackets). A lounge chair had my name on it (they are all over the Gardens) and I spent the next hour and a half watching tourists and Parisians alike walking by and warming myself in the sun.
One last walk to the hotel and a quick stop at the crepe stand and it was time to leave Paris. After a long delay at the Gard de L’Est train station I’m now speeding across the dark countryside of France (though I did get to see a beautiful sunset over the rolling hills). Next stop Zurich!
