"Paris is always a good idea"

It's taken me ages to update about Paris. This is because I know it will take a long time, and because I can never seem to get the internet connection for more than a bit at a time. I believe I've moaned about my internet inconveniences before, but if not the jist of it is that there is 1 cable to be shared among the entire household. A household made up of technically 6, but more like 8 or 9 souls. It's usually alright except for one girl who locks it up in her room for whatever reason, but she has a job now, so I'm hoping this problem will ease up a bit.

My solution is to get up early when I know she's sleeping, and hijack the connection using my own ethernet cable. Only my cable is quite short, which means I must bring my laptop to the living room to use it, and then everyone sees me, and their eyes light up and they go "Can I just check my email?!" Since I am a nice, easily stepped over person, I kindly offer up my laptop for the promised "5 minutes," and an hour later I'm still sitting on the floor watching my umpteenth episode of Hope and Faith waiting to get my laptop back so I can finish checking my Myspace email.

It's practically farcical.

And with that clumsy segue. . .PARIS!!

Friday
The cheapest Eurostar ticket I could find into Paris was a dazzling £30, which obviously came with a catch. It was the 5:30am train, and would hurl me through dawn and into Paris at a respectable 9:30am. It's clearly the businessman's train, although it being Friday, was more populated with very tired backpackers. The only problem with taking this train was that the Tube is still closed that early in the morning, and there is no direct night bus from here to Waterloo station which lies south of the river. So I spent the night tossing and turning (I can never sleep well the night before I have to get up early or I have to travel), getting maybe 2 hours of sleep before my alarm went off at 3am. The girl who lives next door to me and her friends hadn't even gone to bed yet.

I headed out into the dark, very cold early morning hours to catch my bus, while much of London was still returning from their nights out. I transfered buses near Trafalgar Square while surrounded by large groups of very drunk students, and stood there shivering and feeling very much like they were going to at their 9am lectures. Only, the only thing I had too much of was not enough sleep.

But I made it to Waterloo and caught my train, which was surprisingly populated despite the hour. Still, I snagged a two-seater to myself and stretched out trying to sleep, failing, and instead watching the sun rise over the French landscape. By the time we hit Paris, I was fighting off nausea and desperate for a place to lie down. Not the best of starts. I had two hours to kill until my sister's train came in from Basel, and I spent about 30 minutes of that walking between my train station and hers. I wanted coffee and/or food, but seemed unable to procure either, not wanting to make a big production of coffee in a cafe. So instead, I wandered around the neighborhood surrounding Gare d'Est just soaking up the idea that I was in Paris. I didn't want to go too far, though, because I have forgotten most of my directional vocabulary in French, and I didn't want to get lost.

So I found a bench, and tried to read and be patient, but found that every pungent homeless person in France gravitated towards my overly sensitive sense of smell and the empty seats next to me like so many pigeons. I also seemed to be in the prime location for people asking me directions, which I could strangely understand where they were asking me to go, but had no idea where anything was to send them. Except that la toilette was a gauche.

Mon francais, il est tres mal.

My stomach was neither up to the smell nor the barage of questions, so instead I paced up and down in front of track 9 waiting for the train. Finally, it arrived and my sister popped off and tried to hug me, but since I didn't want to throw up on her, I passed. In the future, travelling late in the day might be a better plan!

So it was a bit of a rough start, but once we sat down and plotted out the day, I felt better. First we got ourselves some money and Metro tickets, and then we decided for the first day, we'd start slow and do the Louvre since it's pretty big, and would take some time, and I didn't think I had the energy to hop all over the city to different sights. Plus, the weather had turned a bit grey and rainy. We took the Metro down that way, and stopped at a street vendor for baguette paninis. Then we headed towards the museum. Suddenly, it was starting to feel like a holiday.

The Louvre, for those not lucky enough to see it yet, is the biggest thing I have ever seen. I knew it was big, and yet I still couldn't believe how enormous it was when I first saw it. I am sure you could get lost in there for days.

This is just one wing:


That faint little thing poking up behind it at the end is, in fact, the Eiffel Tower:



Once I saw the Eiffel Tower, I was happy, and felt like I really was in Paris.

And in the distance you can also see the Arc de Triomphe:


And of course, the infamous glass pyramid:


It took ages for us to get inside, get our tickets, and store our bags. Finally we plotted a route that took us through most of the major bits inside. I made sure to see the Venus di Milo, and the Mona Lisa, which the most massive crowd around it. I had heard so many people say they were surprised at how small it was, that I was actually surprised at how big it was. In my mind, I think I had shrunk it down to a postage stamp.

We wandered around some more, taking in Napolean's apartments and the Dutch painters (which, for some reason, I always gravitate towards). I was starting to recognize things I'd also seen it all the various art museums I have been to so far. I think my favorite was the room full of Rubens.

I think we spent almost 4 hours in there, and maybe had covered a quarter of the ground, and lots of that was just quickly passing by heading to other things. My feet were already sore from just that. Our goal was to head in the direction of the hostel in order to store our stuff and take a break, but we went the scenic route.

First we wandered through the Jardin des Tuilleries, which was outstandingly beautiful. The weather, despite being slightly wet, was relatively warm for the end of October, and the trees were all changing colors. As we walked through, the sun started to peak out from behind the clouds, and the falling leaves swirled all around us. Everyone says Paris is best in the spring, but autumn isn't so bad either!

Through the park, towards the Obelisque and the Arc de Triomphe.



Through the park, there were lots of various sculptures and things. I found the large stack of buckets tres amusee.



Also, there was some arrangement of the flags of various countries, only all in black and white. I have no idea what that was all about, but it was interesting:



Eventually we made our way to the Place de Concorde, with the Obelisque in the center, and surrounded by statues representing the major cities in France:



From here, we turned north and visited La Madeleine:


Which is very pretty on the inside, but I've already forgotten its signifance.

Then we hopped on the Metro, and headed northeast to the Montmarte district where we'd booked a room in the hostel. Montmarte is a very beautiful, bohemian, artistic district of the city. It is is on a hill high above the city and provides amazing views all around you below.

We found our hostel easily enough, and checked in. The man behind the counter was American and curious about where we were from. We confused him with our Wisconsin by way of London and Switzerland answer. Thankfully, we were soon in our room, which was unfortunately too small for the two bunkbeds in it and smelled awful. But I don't know if I've ever been so happy in my life to see a bed. I don't remember much after that except lying down. I think we met one of the room's residents, an Austrian girl in town to interview for Emirates airlines and hoping to move to Dubai. I never did find out how she did.

Auburn showered up while I lay down in a semi-catatonic state before it was time to head back out again. We had tickets to see a musical called Le Roi Soleil, and needed to head to the opposite end of the city. Since we had a little time to kill, though, and we were nearby, we walked down to the Moulin Rouge:



Ewan McGregor was nowhere to be found, however.

Then we grabbed a quick dinner and headed back out to see the musical. I can best describe the experience as sitting through a fancy dress pop concert in a language you don't understand. Lots of pop songs and gymnastic dancing. The audience took loads of pictures, and at the end, rushed the stage like boyband fans. It was surreal, and not like a stuffy London play at all. Afterwards, my sister and about 200 hundred other rabid fans waited outside the stage door for the actors to come out. Which they did, and patiently signed autographs and posed for pictures for at least an hour after the show was over.

I, however, had been awake for 21 hours, after 2 hours of sleep, and was ready to welcome death if it meant I could lie down. I finally pulled my sister away to catch the last train home, and blurrily found our way back to the hostel where I slept harder than I remember ever sleeping until her alarm evilly went off at 8 the following morning. I would have slept in longer, but breakfast was free and only until 9am, so we needed to hustle.

Saturday
We planned Saturday to be a much more full day, trying to cover many miles of the city and check off lots of sights.

We started within our own neighborhood, and headed up the hill towards Sacre Coeur. It took awhile to find, mostly due to a crappy Thomas Cook map I was trying to rely on (do not use!!). Once we found it, it was, as always, up the steepest hill ever. Auburn, who currently resides in the Swiss Alps, just kind of laughed at me. But it wasn't too bad, and we made our way up through the streets lined with artists and their paintings.

On Oxford St., you have to dodge all the people trying to hand you pieces of paper or stop you to get you to donate for something. In Montmarte, it's people trying to draw your portrait. Hundreds of them descend upon all the tourists, telling you they're just going to draw you and you don't have to pay if you don't like it. I'd love to see all of these finished portraits to see how well the artists capture that bewildered, trapped animal look I could see on the faces of all of those that got caught. We slipped by uncharcoaled.

And found Sacre Coeur, which is quite beautiful:



Although the best part was the view:



We then walked down about a thousand stairs and hopped on the Metro towards the Ile de Cite and to Notre Dame:



Which was very grand and beautiful on the inside. And free to visit! Unless you climbed up, which we didn't do.



Behind Notre Dame, there is a crepe stand manned by a fellow who flirts with all his customers. This is what my sister remembers from her last visit to Paris, so we headed back here. The crepe was scrumptious, and it didn't hurt to be called "my dear" and "my love" while you wait for your lunch. So the next time you visit Notre Dame, head around back for the yummiest crepes and the most flattering service!

We ate our lunch in the little park behind the church, and then crossed the Seine and headed towards the Latin Quarter.

After the Eiffel Tower, the other thing that made me feel very Parisien was seeing the Seine.


Here is Auburn pondering her existence, which is possibly thus verifying her existence? At any rate, the Louvre is in the background.



We wandered down along the river, browsing all the stands selling second hand books and various prints (and scandelously, to me, loads of plates torn out of books!!). I think one of the key ingredients to happiness must be a leisurely walk down the Seine browsing second hand books.

We headed under Pont Neuf, the oldest bridge across the Seine:



And then in the direction of Boulevard St. Michel in the Latin Quarter.



Here my Swedish friend Anna had said resided the very best music store ever. We walked all the way down the street towards the Sorbonne, into what I decided would be my favorite part of the city were I able to spend more time there. I found the music store, Gibert Joseph, and found that it was indeed the best music store ever. They have everything. Everything. I wandered around the Indie section for long after Auburn was bored to tears wanting to buy the whole thing up. Albums I'd sought for ages were just sitting there. Out of print Sufjan Stevens albums? There. The New Pornographers on vinyl? Yep! I managed to walk out of there with only two CDs, and was quite proud of myself for showing some restraint.

So that was one of my favorite parts of Paris. A music store. I know, it's a bit sad.

Afterwards, we refreshed ourselves at Starbucks since apparently these don't exist in Switzerland. There I, once again, attracted the most crazy person in the vicinity, who decided to use us to practice his English. I now know that it is not safe to give your name to the baristas if you are a member of the Secret Service. Important information! While we found some seats, I watched him "conversing" with several of the other customers who all had that same trapped animal look I'd seen earlier on the unwilling portrait sitters. Clearly he was a regular.

Anyways, with that, we headed back towards the river and over to the Musee d'Orsay, which used to be Gare d'Orsay, or, a train station:



This museum is filled with mostly Impressionist-era painters, which I'm apparently much more familiar with, because I saw lots and lots of art that I know and love. It also had an outdoor cafe with lovely views back up towards Sacre Coeur.



After a few hours there, we crossed the Seine, and once again headed through the Jardin des Tuilieres, and across the Place de Concorde, although instead of heading north, we continued west-ish up the Champs Elysees.



It was quite beautiful with all the changing leaves, and we meandered through there soaking it all in until we got to the shopping end of it. It looked like a great destination for some serious Euro spendage, but we soon found that late Saturday afternoon is quite a popular to go out and the streets were mobbed. I saw my first Sephora in over a year, and nearly cried wanting to go inside, but it was a madhouse. Like, a day after Thanksgiving kind of madhouse. There isn't a lip gloss in the world that will make me put up with that, so we bypassed the shopping and headed straight up towards the Arc de Triomphe instead.



Then we hopped back on the Metro and down towards the Eiffel Tower, which we had saved until dark so we could see it all lit up. We could have gotten off at two different stops to see the Eiffel Tower. Of course, I pick the further of the two, and between the two stations our train promptly stalls for about 10 minutes. We get an annoucement that I'm pretty sure translated as "Please do not panic, and thank you for your courage." This made me panic a little bit, but soon we were on our way.

The Eiffel Tower was the coolest thing ever. I decided not to pay to go up, because it was pretty dark when we got there and the queues were still long. I figured you probably wouldn't get to see as much as you would in the day, and anyways, it was gorgeous enough all sparkly and lit up from the ground.



Every hour it sparkles:





From the inside:



After relishing, we slowly made our way back to the Metro, stopping lots to just sit and take in the view from a distance, and then got back on the train to Montmarte, grabbed a quick dinner, and had a relatively early night in.

Sunday
The clocks went back overnight, and even though I reminded Auburn several times, she failed to remember. So her alarm went off at 7:30 instead of 8:30, much to my sadness. Still, it was our final day in Paris and there was much left to see. I felt like I'd gotten a fairly good introduction of the center of Paris and had seen most of the major sights I cared to see, so today we were venturing further out.

With our early start, we headed down towards the Catacombs. I figured that was a nice way to celebrate the fact that it was almost Halloween. We got there before it even opened, and so killed some time in a cafe having coffee until it opened. By the time we got back, there was already a huge queue. It was a short wait until we finally got in, and were directed down a million stairs into the slick, dark underground of the city. We walked for ages before finally getting to the spooky parts. Auburn was terrified like it was a haunted house, but I just felt sad. Piles and piles of human bones, all neatly stacked, just illustrated all sorts of things about mortality and meaninglessness. I just felt depressed. Then we climbed a billion stairs back up into the harsh light of day. They don't really ease you out of the darkness, so be warned!

We still had most of the day ahead of us, since our trains back to our respective countries weren't until evening, so we decided to have a day in luxury at Versailles. I'd just seen Marie Antoinette at the cinema, so I wanted to see all the excess for myself. We figured out how to take the train out there, sans probleme (I think I'm inventing French now), to be confronted by the biggest house I've ever seen.



There was a giant queue to get indoors, and we waited and waited and snacked on improvised pain au chocolat (handy tip: squares of Cadbury stuffed into croissants is yum). We got indoors and snagged our helpful audioguides and spent hours and hours wandering through room after over-decorated room. I have to say that the movie did a splendid job of recreating the decor because I recognized lots of it. We went through all the open parts of the main palace, and then went out into the gardens in back. Auburn walked all the way down and around, and I just sat, resting my achy feet, and took in the views. It's not such a bad landscaping job to wake up to every morning! I'd be alright with that.



The construction stuff would have to go, though.

By the time we were done it was nearly 4:30 and time to head back into the city for Auburn to catch her 6:15 train. It was dark by the time we got there, thanks to the time change, so I sent her off and then had 2.5 hours to catch my Eurostar. Given that it was Sunday night and dark, there wasn't much I could do. I spent my last few Euros and nabbed some dinner, and made it back to Gare du Nord. I did a bit of souvenir browsing. I was chatted up, en francais by some fella who was not put off by my "Je ne parle pas le francais" or my repeated "Je ne comprends pas!" I think after awhile I figured out that he was trying to propose to me so he could come to England and learn English. So I told him I had a big burly boyfriend back in England, so that might cause a few problems. And oh look, it's time for my train.

On the safe, ticketed passengers only side of the Eurostar gates I then sat for ages and browsed the duty free shops. At last, it was time for my train, which was unfortunately much more crowded than on the way in, and headed back into England which for now is still home.

At last, back in London, I nabbed the quite familiar Tube and headed back to Camden. It was nearly midnight by the time I arrived back, exhausted, and immediately headed to bed with my thoughts still half in French as I slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Paris is fantastic, and deserves many more visits. But London is home, and it was good to be back.

Since then I've occupied my time by seeing loads of indie rock concerts. Michelle and I saw Cat Power Wednesday night, and then went out again on Friday to see Sufjan Stevens. The latter is easily one of the best shows I've ever been to and I'm still on a bit of a high from it. The fella blows my mind!