Josh and Rachel Take a Trip

Our adventures in Normandy actually started the night before. I chose the apartment we stayed in because it had wi-fi and a washing machine. Our trip was two weeks, but we only packed for one, with the intention of washing and reusing. Washing and reusing is a great plan if you can: A) read how to operate the machinery in a foreign language, and B) use context clues and deductive reasoning to execute what you’re able to decipher.

First things first: we had to figure out which machine was the washer and which was the dryer. We had a tense moment where soap almost went into the dryer, but we got ourselves straight just in time. We got our clothes in the right machine, put soap in what we thought was the appropriate drawer and turned the foreign dial on. I know we were doing something wrong because the digital timer read 192. Was that minutes?

It was. Thankfully, it did the job, but with two loads of washing and drying and then packing to do… yoy. The dryer also 2.5 hours to dry each load, so we didn’t sleep much with all the gonk-gonk-gonk of the machine. The night was long.

I can’t complain much about the apartment set-up, though. It gave us little in the way of the support that a concierge at a hotel might offer, but it gave much more in other ways. We were able to dine in a couple times, which was nice. We were able to do our laundry at no cost, even if it was difficult. The bathtub with sprayer, or “shath” as Josh lovingly referred to it, was a challenge but also got the job done. The apartment also allowed us more room than a hotel (in my price range anyway) would. Above all, it was a little home away from home:

We’ll miss it.

Not just the apartment, of course. After getting over our initial terror of the hustle-bustle of the city, Paris really began feeling comfortable. What appears as chaos is actually a smooth running machine. The whole city operates on a system, and once you understand the system, you can flow along with the locals.

I had heard that Parisians are rude - it’s untrue. Things move fast, and as a foreigner you are not a part of the city’s smooth-moving routine. Your lack of knowledge of the system creates an inconvenience and delay. They are rarely rude about it, even if they aren’t overly friendly. We met several people that offered smiles and directions.

Many people did speak English, which was comforting, but there were a couple people that didn’t at all. In a food/retail setting, you can get your point across with basic French. Even fumbling with the language is appreciated, and a polite “Parden me, but do you speak English, I only speak a little French,” went a long way.

I wish I’d had more time to shop, to sight-see, to wander and explore. I wish I’d had more time to eat, to drink, and learn/practice more of my abysmal French. I wish I’d bought shoes.

We’ve already discussed returning to Paris, and we miss the city. Josh said it was beginning to feel like home… but this thang ain’t over yet, kids. Now we’re off to Normandy…

But first, here’s one for you mom:

Yep, she’s a teapot. We found her in our apartment. Ain’t she a beaut?

Today is our last day in Paris, France. We wanted it to be engaging, relaxing and celebratory.

We got up and found a nearby cafe and ordered omelettes because we were starving. Josh threw on an order of croissants at the end, but we didn’t know that our breakfasts came with a basket of bread. It wasn’t a problem, however: Josh wrapped the excess chunks of baguette in a napkin and stuffed them in his pockets.

From there we were on a mission for a couple things to remember the city by. I haven’t been able to settle on anything in particular that I want as a souvenir… In retrospect, I wish I’d bought one of those little Eiffel Towers they sell outside the monument, even if it was the “tourist” thing to do. I picked up a small, well-made Petite Prince, since the book has been my bite-by-bite french lesson while here. I’d love to have some french clothing to wear, but I didn’t have the heart to drag Josh through boutique after boutique, especially when I wanted to get to the Arc de Triomphe at some point in the day.

We found a couple things and headed home, only to turn right back around and head to the Arc by Metro. Like Paris’s other monuments, it’s size is beyond comprehension. You emerge out of the metro and view it from across the street — it is located in the center of the city’s largest swirling traffic vortex of doom, pronounced “Roundabout”. There are no crosswalks, so you must reach it by a tunnel running under the traffic. When you see sunlight again, you’re right below the giant.

Napoleon built it as a tribute to France’s fallen soldiers. Apparently, it is imitation of the Romans’ arcs, but about 10x bigger (Do you think that Napoleon was compensating for something? Hmm…) Each of the wide sides of the Arc have two reliefs. My favorite is this one, showing a ferocious France (the woman) rallying her tired, hungry, and naked troops to continue the fight for freedom.

In the center, there is a Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. They have replaced the flowers and relit the flame every evening at 6:30pm since WWI.

The base of the memorial is free. The ticket you buy is really for the view. Euros aside, you have to work for the vantage point, too — it’s a loooong spiral staircase up one side and then a looooong spiral staircase descent down the other. Once on top, however, you get a grand view of the city’s fancy-schmancy boulevard — the Champs-Elysee — and the other giant boulevards that form the etoile, or star, of the Arc. Speaking of boulevards, the Place de l’Etoile is the only roundabout in France that gives the right of way (priorite de droite) to the incoming traffic and NOT those already within the circle. So you get some scenes like this:

Yikes. The view of the city, on the other hand, is much more serene.

We left the Arc and took a stroll down the Champs-Elysee, the most famous street in Paris. There were cafes and coffee, food and fashion.  We had fun translating the GAP advertisements in the windows, wandering the Virgin store — three levels, and the widest graphic novel collection we’ve ever seen — there was an enormous store-front for Louis Vuitton and a wonderful parfumerie. Our favorite, however, was the sales floor for Peurgeot where you see this:

But you also saw this:

Exhausted and a little bummed out at our waning time, we returned to the Marais district to find food and get ready to leave the next day. We sat down at the cafe we see every morning, hoping to eat and watch the city go by. Our plan was thwarted after we ordered a giant carafe of wine and… aha, cafes only serve drinks after 7 pm. If you want to eat, you must go to a restaurant. We drank the wine like champs (if we must, we must), then gave our food search another, if slightly more wobbly, try. We found a wonderful little place and had chicken and wine and sausage and lamb and desserts and espressos. We’ll miss Paris…

Today was the kind of day I had concocted in my mind when planning this trip. Our eventual destination was the Louvre, but we had no particular gameplan, save find the river and follow it to the museum. We found the water at Ile de la Cite, one of two islands on the river, and Rue du Temple — which just so happens to come out right at Notre Dame. I’ve seen it once before, but it was through the eyes of a teenager — it was nice to view as an adult, with a guide book giving me the skinny on the sculptures that covered the front and the importance of those flying buttresses on the outside.

Here’s a fun fact, courtesy Rick Steves. Why did they build the church? Apparently a bishop by the name of Denis was beheaded as a warning to other Christians, but he refused to take it lying down: after the swing of the ax he popped up, grabbed his head, gave it a good wash and ran off. The Parisians of the time thought this was a pretty spiffy miracle, so Christianity gained ground and they replaced the original pagan temple with “Our Lady”, Notre Dame.

From there we criss-crossed bridges, across the Pont Neuf in one direction and across the pedestrian-only Pont des Arts in the other. There were artists and kids making out, so it had a very French feeling to it.

The massive Louvre sits along the Siene for several city blocks. After passing up one entrance for another with more oomph — per Josh’s request that he wanted to see the pyramid — we came out in the gigantic square that the museum sits upon.

The glass pyramid wasn’t as impressive as he thought it would be.

Juuuust kidding! It’s pretty freakin’ fantastic.

First things first: there are two sculptures that have always taken my breath away. One of them, Winged Victory, is located in the entrance of the Louvre’s Denon wing. Ain’t she a beauty?

And at some point in my brother’s twenties, he will go back in time to ancient Rome and rule a small city-state. You can see him in his stateliness here, rockin’ a toga and some awesome sideburns.

As you make your way along this wing, you’re reminded of where you’re going. The Louvre knows their audience — there’s “Mona Lisa this way” signs in every doorway. You roll through corridors of amazing pieces until you arrive at what some would feel is the main event.

It’s funny: the first time I saw the Mona Lisa, I was completely underwhelmed. After passing hall after hall of amazing (and sometimes enormous) artwork, it’s hard to give the lady her props. On this second trip, I’d lowered my expectations so far that she actually lived up to them nicely — I guess that Da Vinci guy was pretty good. Josh was unimpressed, but there was more than enough to blow his mind elsewhere.

The thing about the Louvre is its immensity. It’s impossible to wrap your mind around its sheer size and accessibility — it’s right there. And you walk down a corridor and, oh look, inches away: there’s a masterpiece. …right beside another amazing piece of work. And there, snuggled right between them is yet another work of culturally significant artistic relevance — probably of Jesus.

Josh’s awed whispers of profanity continued to make the trip worthwhile as we moved hall to hall to hall… to hall… to yep, another hall.

We took a break for air, caffeine and Fanta a few hours later and hit the place for round two. My only other goal was to see Michelangelo’s Slaves — two unfinished pieces of the master’s marble sculptures. Having fulfilled our Louvre raison d’etre, we wandered lackadaisically, taking in the remaining sculptures and kind of looking for the Egyptian exhibit, but feeling okay about not seeing it if we couldn’t track it down.

For me, the bonus treasure we found ended up being the French sculpture wing. All were in imitation of greek and roman style and holy geeze were they beautiful. Apparently, I only need a half-clad lady made of stone or a thinking/battling/hunting god to round out my mental art euphoria.

Josh needed ice cream for his.

We left the Louvre after a rush, omigosh-we-almost-forgot-the-inverted-pyramid moment, and headed back to the smaller island of Ile St. Louis for some ice cream from Berthillon. They were tiny scoops, and our greedy American minds were disappointed at first, but not for long — it was the best ice cream ever: not too sweet or overly filling, and that tiny scoop dug it’s way down into the cone so you had ice cream until the last bite.

We got a little lost on the way home, but finally found our supermarche and got some food and wine. God bless the French and their 4 euro wine. Sure, we could have sprung for something more expensive, but wouldn’t you want to see what $6 wine tastes like? Let me tell you: it tastes GOOD.

My feet hurt and my calves ache… and I couldn’t be happier. Today was a grand success!

Yes, I’m sitting in a McDonalds.

But it’s pronounced McDonalds. Today begins with more shame as we sit on the second floor of a McD’s, drinking prefab cappucinos surfing the web. You do what you have to for an addiction, right? And I’m overlooking the tiny park of the Republic, so I still win. There’s a giant stone Madame Liberte across the street cheering me on, so let’s do this thing.

Josh and I got up at the crack of dawn this morning, made a small breakfast for ourselves and emerged just as light was coming up. I successfully ordered coffee in french — which is good because I fell asleep practicing what I would say, darnnit .

My attitude is better today. I’ve finally embraced the fact that, despite my best intentions, I can only be the stupid American tourist that France expects me to be. I’ll be as polite as I can, but seeing as how I still can’t speak the language, I will frustrate some people when outside the normal tourist spots. C’est la vie.

Some observations so far:

There’s a lot of bikes: thousands of’em. And every rider is 10x braver than I am because there is no way I would take my life into my hands on these streets. Those lines in the road, denoting lanes? Merely vague suggestions of where you could be, if you wanted to drive there, but hey, no pressure. The drivers do what they want. Bikers do what they want, too: and everyone’s got either a peddling bike or some motorized variety — teenagers, businesspeople, old ladies.

Every place we’ve gone has been the definition of efficient. If they’ve got space, they cram every nook and cranny of it. We passed a restaurant yesterday with a tiny little table facing nowhere - they use every inch. Unless, of course, you’re a high end gallery or clothing store: then you flaunt all that excess room.

99.9% of the people here are fashionable. I feel like I’m participating in a Vogue fashion shoot every time I step outside (as maybe the lighting girl, I’m certainly not up the strutting caliber of these ladies). And there’s fashionable dudes, which just delights Josh. On our normal route to and from the apartment, there are twice as many men’s stores than women’s — this is not typical to America. There are a lot of boots and a lot of scarves (thanks for catching up, Paris, I’ve been wearing scarves from Oct to May for years now), oodles of fancy purses and BLACK. It seems like everybody smokes, and everyone’s as skinny as a rail. Josh and I are practicing our strut today in an effort to appear local, even at a distance. This will be difficult, however, since I can’t seem to go more than a block without smiling or giggling at our situation. …and the French don’t smile, at least not as us.

Today is full of possibilities — once we’ve finished up here at McD’s, we’re walking south to the River Siene and then west to the Louvre. Josh would like to avoid the Metro so we can see the city, but I don’t know if we’ll have enough steam by the time we finish the Louvre. We’ll see. Either way, who cares: we’re in Paris!

24 hours of London has left with me a couple impressions:

1. No one says “bloody hell” except for Josh and loud people out on the street in the middle of the night.

2. Hearing people speak English-english instead of American-english is an odd sensation. It’s like you can sort of understand them, but you’re not sure. I feel like since we’re technically speaking the same language we should be able to have a conversation, but it doesn’t quite work out that way. In that same vein, half the people we’ve spoken to don’t seem to speak either English as their first language, which is also cool. Nobody can understand anyone else, so there’s a lot of us in that boat, even if they live here and we don’t.

3. There has been wi-fi available nearly everywhere we’ve been, which is super nice. I’d like to think that Josh and I aren’t the only people in the world that say “Hurray, we’re on vacation, let’s get out our laptops”, but there was only one other dude with his out in the train station. Geeks on holiday, go!

4. When our train sets out shortly, I’ll be cramming my french language/customs/directions hardcore. This evening is sure to be exciting (and probably stressful) since we’ll be descending onto the city’s metro around rush hour time. Oh yay.

—–

Update: We had a tense moment on the train when my bag wandered (I guess I’d put too small a bag in the big bag area and someone relocated it) but other than that it was uneventful. The trip through the tunnel under the English channel — the “Chunnel” — just meant it was dark outside for a while. We fell asleep.

When we arrived to Paris’s Gare du Nord train station: holy smokes. There were zooming bodies everywhere, and our luggage was a definite hindrance. We found the right metro line to get to our apartment, and got to the right stop to emerge onto the bustling streets of Paris… and then promptly got lost. With all our luggage. In the rain. In rush hour.

Le sigh.

Josh was the hero here. He got us turned in the correct direction and we finally figured out where to go. The apartment was a very welcome break, but we were starving, since we hadn’t eaten since our yummy English breakfast. We set out to find food.

I have to say that not speaking French is definitely a major disadvantage. Everyone posts their menus in the window, which is nice, but the servers/bartenders also loom out in the doorways smoking cigarettes which can be intimidating, especially when you can’t properly interact with their greeting. We were also ready to eat a lot earlier than the rest of the city, so we encountered some places that weren’t open yet (at 15:00). We stepped into an empty establishment with one really ill bartender, and left when he started weaving and may very well have vomited behind the bar. Nice.

We finally found a pizza place and, emboldened by the “Meet the family” in the window, made our way inside.

It was a success. They served a tiny appetizer of olives and some kind of bean, one of which Josh courageously tried. Josh declared his pizza was the best he’s ever had and my “salad du saison” was a tasty blend of romaine, tomatoes, pecans, bleu cheese and a mysterious yellow dressing. Tasty. We had cappuccinos to finish it out, and Josh bravely asked for the bill (”la note”).

Parisians eat much later than Americans - when we arrived, there were three other tables being used. By the time we left around 8:30, the place was full. It was a great learning experience. You can order a carafe with wine for either 2 glasses (1/4) or 4 glasses (a 1/2), as opposed to an entire bottle. (The 1/2 will be our future winner).

Tomorrow, we’re buying a good map, a metro pass, possibly a museum pass and exploring some more.

Unfortunately, we’ve currently got no internet at our apartment that is supposed to have it. We’re investigating our options today. I’m totally bummed, since this will seriously hamper our chances for blogging. Updates when possible.