At the last moment, Kevin and I decided to go to Paris for our 9th anniversary. Our friends, the Hatchs, were kind enough to watch Weslee for our 3 1/2 day trip.
I found out some interesting things about myself on this trip. I found out that I've allowed propaganda from the various wars in my lifetime to make me prejudice against the French...and other nationalities as well. I went to Paris not expecting to like the French people very much. I think subconsciously, I thought I'd find a mob of people who hated Americans, were burning their bras and our flag in the streets, and in general, just behaving like heathens.
Instead, we were greeted by a highly cultured, cordial people who took a great deal of pride in their history, their food, and their city. They were kind and patient as we stumbled through our handful of poorly spoken French phrases and flat out asked for help in English. One waiter went so far as to explain his entire menu to us and help us order something that was typical of the region. Only one unsavory character crossed our path...and that was on our first night while trying to purchase tickets for the metro. He was just a little too friendly for both of our likings...and while I went straight to the assumption that the man was mentally ill (a year in a mental health facility will do that to you), Kevin realized that we were being pickpocketed and caught the guy before he had taken anything of value. It kept us a little on edge the rest of the trip, especially when we were in large crowds...like at the Eiffel Tower or in the Notre Dame (sad, but true). Many times, we'd see signs warning of pickpockets and to keep watchful care of your valuables. And, in other exciting robbery news...we weren't able to visit the large market on the Rue Mouffetard because a bank robbery was in progress. They shut the entire area down and even had a very loud and noisy helicopter hovering above the few city blocks we had intended to visit that morning. We had planned to purchase some interesting cheeses and a roasted chicken for lunch that day...but we ended up lunching at a sandwich shop instead. Oh well...we captured some fun-filled pictures of the helicopter at least.
So...what were our impressions of Paris itself? I have to say that the first night, arriving near midnight, shrouded the City of Lights in a veil of depravity. Again, I had arrived with my prejudices and the almost immediate attack of a pickpocket had me thinking and feeling the worst. The stench of urine hung heavy in the metro station and it seemed to me that slouchy, homeless characters leered at Kevin and I hauling our luggage through the night waiting to jump us when the crowd died down. When the metro train pulled up, I stared at the cars covered in graffiti and was actually afraid to board. We exited the train at Place de Clichy and as we emerged from the dark of the station, we were met with the red glowing lights of the Moulin Rouge, and blaring neon that shouted "Sex", "Fantasy" and "XXX". As we walked down the street, two homeless men urinated in the bushes while watching us pass. It later struck us as ironic that the bushes they were watering were only a few feet from a free public restroom. Crouching around our belongings, Kevin finally pulled out our GPS to find our hotel and within a few minutes walk, we found the Hotel Utrillo.
Online, the Hotel Utrillo was given a 3 star rating. It even came highly recommended in Fodor's travel guide. It was indeed in a safe and bustling neighborhood by day...but again, we arrived at just after midnight and the place seemed dead and the street outside very dark. Our actual room was tiny, but clean. Except for the moldy tiles in the shower...but we've come to expect that as "normal" in the European countries. We actually came to like our room quite well. The bed was comfortable, the neighborhood lively, the metro station close...and we just ignored the moldy smell emanating from the shower.
Day two began to convince us of Paris's charms. As we walked down the street toward the Place de Clichy, the smell of the cafes and baking bread filled the streets. The locals and tourists alike dined on the sidewalks and the sound of clinking glassware could be heard like little tinkling bells in the distance. We basked in the already warm sun. We ate fresh bread and Pain au chocolat from the boulangerie and bought some of the best nectarines I've ever eaten from the market across the street. We enjoyed them while sitting in front of the Moulin Rouge, engaging in France's greatest passtime...people watching. It was fun to enjoy the fruit and bread while watching tourists fumble with their maps, and lovers stroll aimlessly along while holding hands. Today we were better with the Metro. It began to make sense, at least to Kevin and we soon found ourselves at the Louvre. We took the 1 1/2 hour "masterpieces" tour, getting lost in the maze of art and finding ourselves snapping pictures of some of the most iconic pieces on earth. Kevin desecribed Da Vinci's "Mona Lisa" as the most "overrated painting of all time". Though, I must say...she really drew the crowds. The crowds were so large, it was almost impossible to get a picture. I did something I never do to finally snap a shot. I knowingly broke the rules and got on Kevin's shoulders to finally grab a picture. It's funny...it you look closely, you can see the museum steward's very surprised face. Two seconds later, another steward was kindly asking us something that began with "Si vous plait" which we interpretted to mean that my picture time with Mona was done. A little embarrassed...but quite a bit triumphant, I moved on to the next masterpiece. My favorite of all of the paintings was one of Napoleon Bonaparte. It was so real to life, it felt like you could step into the painting like it was another room. I also really enjoyed Michelangelo's "Two Slaves". Kevin and I reaffirmed something about ourselves that we've always really suspected...we have no appreciation for art. We admire some of the aspects of art, like the time it takes to create the masterpieces, and the details in some of the sculpture...but really, after an hour and a half in the museum, both of us were no longer impressed with critic acclaimed pictures of naked women. The French Revolution picture was the most perplexing. The Republic, represented by a woman who's shirt has fallen off, is marching along with blood soaked, scruffy soldiers. We kept wondering why her shirt needed to be off? To us it was just gratuious nudity. It didn't make sense.
Anyways...back to the subject at hand...Paris. After the Louvre, we walked to the Notre Dame. What a beautiful cathedral. Our favorite part was climbing up to the top to catch a panoramic view of the city. We got to tour the bell towers...and NO, Quasi Moto is not there. We checked. Although the line to climb the top was absolutely crazy, going to the top of Notre Dame was by far, one of our favorite things we did. We have decided that since there are no big mountains to hike around here, we've taken to hiking churches and castles. So far, I have hiked to the top of some of the most iconic cathedrals in Europe. The Duomo in Florence, Italy...the Notre Dame in Paris, France...and this December, my whole family will hike to the top of St. Paul's Cathedral in London. After touring the top, we went inside. The stained glass was absolutely breathtaking. I don't think I've ever seen such gorgeous windows. I will have to say that I pitied the people who use the church as a place of worship. There were hordes of tourists coming and going, snapping pictures, clinking money into the money bins to buy candles to light for relatives and other people who need prayers, people whispering to one another, tour guides answering questions. I find that when I'm trying to commune with God, it takes all of my concentration to really tell him about my feelings, my struggles, and my needs. It takes all of my strength to listen for inspiration and guidance about how to meet those challenges. I wondered if I would be able to gain that kind of communion with my Maker if all of the hub-bub that happened in Notre Dame were happening in my own Sunday chapel back home? I don't think I would. My heart went out to them.
After a ham and cheese crepe, and alot of walking, we were back home. We crashed into bed with sore feet, but happy and cheerful thoughts. It had been a good day.
Day three was the day we headed to the market at Rue de Mouffetard. We weren't able to go to the market because of the bank robbery in progress...so, we caught a Batobus (which is one of the many boats that go up and down the River Seine) and rode from Notre Dame to the Eiffel Tower. I got so many good pictures. It was so cool to see the Eiffel Tower rise majestically as we rounded the bend in the river. We got out of the bus at the tower to take pictures in the daylight, hoping to go up the tower around sunset...and hoping that the insane crowds would die down (they didn't). There were lots of people selling miniature Eiffel Towers. Apparently they were illegal immigrants because they started running away when the Police showed up. I almost got killed trying to take a picture of them holding the miniatures (I have dumb moments...just like everyone else). My camera was focused on their hands, not their faces...and Kevin had to save me by taking the camera away. I was a little shaken for the next hour or so...more from my stupidity than anything else. But, I eventually got over it.
We headed to the Arc de Triomphe next. We ran across a VERY busy 6 lane roundabout, not realizing that there was an underground walkway to the Arch. We weren't the only ones who made that mistake. While at the Arch, I realized that the United States is not the only one with an Unnamed Soldier who has fallen in battle. In the center of the arch, an eternal flame burns for France's Unnamed Soldier. I'm sure every country has lost sons and daughters that can't be identified. My heart suddenly swelled for the French people and the sufferings they've felt during war. They became my brothers and my sisters that day.
From the Arch, we travelled down the Champs Elysees, which turned out to be the ritzy area of town. It was full of upscale shops and restaurants and a very interesting person dressed up like Pharoah who stood perfectly still and hoped you would put money in his little basket for standing so still. It was an interesting act. We saw another just down the street at the Place de Concordance where Madame la Guillotine used to stand. Now, a large obelisk and two fountains stand sentinel over the place that used to run with the blood of the noble men and women of France.
After a much needed dinner at the La Ferme de Opera sandwich shop, we headed yet again towards the Batobus to catch a ride to the Eiffel Tower. We decided to hike the first two floors and take the elevator to the top at the second floor. Not only was it cheaper, but again...Kevin and I like to hike (although the knee I hurt in soccer in high school doesn't always appreciate it). We only had to wait for 15 minutes before we were hike, hike, hiking our way to the tallest point in Paris. It turned out to be one of the most humorous events of the trip. It turns out, Kevin is VERY afraid of heights. I didn't know this about him. I've known the man for a decade and did not know that he could not tolerate heights. It was fun to watch him try to catch it all on video tape while trying not to look himself. He'd hang the video camera out over the edge and turn and look the other way. (We haven't watched the video yet...it might be fun to see what he took pictures of). It probably didn't help that the tower was made so that you can see all around you while you're climbing. Kevin would try to get up the stairs as quickly as possible so that he could stand on the platform and look out at the horizon. (When he's looking at the horizon, he's OK...it's when he looks down that it's a problem). The elevator ride to the very top was amusing as well. It was a glass elevator...and scary even for me. Kevin didn't really like that at all! I must say, though...he really pushes himself. He figures his only way to get over it is to make himself do it anyway. He actually looked over the edge more than I did. And, he hung my camera out over the edge to get some cool pics of the Tower from the top down. I was too afraid to do that. I actually couldn't watch him hang the camera over like that. It gave me butterflies. (Kevin's right...I've got my priorities ALL mixed up!) At night, the tower lit up and every hour on the hour, it presented a light show to the world. We were able to get down for the 11pm light show. It was so beautiful!
That night it was difficult to fall asleep. My feet hurt so badly from all of the climbing and walking. I had blisters. I felt like a cripple. But, I awoke the next morning ready for Versailles.
Before we checked out the next morning, we ran quickly down the street from the hotel to Santa Croce. There was another long flight of stairs and I thought I was going to die...but we made it. The cathedral was beautiful. The Parisians call it the "sculpted cloud" and for good reason. Made of sparkling white stone with domed chapels, it very much resembles a cloud. While we were there, a man played all kinds of wonderful music on a harp. Looking over the hazy city, it was a nice touch. We finally bought a few Eiffel Tower trinkets from some of the vendors there, grabbed a baguette sandwich for lunch and headed back to the hotel to check out.
From the hotel, we headed WITH all of our luggage to Versailles. Between the Metro and the train, it took 45 minutes to get there. By the time we got there, we had 2 hours to tour the place. Being the art fanatics that we are, we decided to skip the tour of the inside which probably housed alot more art and "fine" things, and opted instead to rent a golf cart and tour the gardens. It was SO MUCH FUN. Kevin drove us through the maze of shrubbery and trees that once used to be highly manicured gardens. It was fun to catch glimpes of King Louis XIV's palace through the green. The gardens were absolutely massive and it took an hour to drive at a steady pace of 5 mph through all of it. We barely had time to stop and snap pictures along the way. Kevin and I both came to the same conclusion at the end of the tour, however. While Versailles is certainly massive and impressive in it's sheer size, it lacks some character that we've seen in other palaces. Everything, the building facade, the gravel paths, even the sculptures...all blended together in a blinding swirl of white. It was fun to see what the "Sun King" thought was impressive and best displayed his pomp, though. It was a fun end of our Parisian tour.
Now, a couple of weeks down the road from the trip, the things that still stick in my mind are the smell of urine. Yes...it was quite a stench...and you unexpectedly came across the smell in the most random of places. The AMAZING bread. Kevin and I both agree that we will never call it "Italian" bread again...the Italians DON'T know what they're doing with bread...we know that from experience. But the French...ahhh....they DO know how to make some of the best bread in the world. I still crave it, even a few weeks later. I can feel the crispy crust and the lusciously chewy center in my mouth as I write this out...ok Teri...enough!!! How colorful it was. I was in love with their subway stations. I loved the loud colors, the modern chairs and benches. I loved how ecclectic Paris is. I could see myself being right at home as a photographer in Paris. And last, the sidewalk cafes. I couldn't get enough of the charm of sitting outdoors with a nice meal and your "honey" and watching the golden sunset bounce off of ancient buildings. In a word, it was wonderful.
Oh my little man! You are a bucket of personality right now. There's not a day that goes by that I don't die laughing. We have the most fun together...and you keep me young each time we play!
