City of Lights

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Paris is gritty, beautiful, busy, tranquil, vain, and brimming with dreams.

We purchased a 3-day metro pass that allowed us to freely traverse the city. We went from the Northeast to Saint Michel, from Montmartre to the Champs Ely sees, and back again. The public transport here is brilliant; there are even bike stations where you may rent a bike and drop it off across the city at another station. Of note is that there is a strong odor of putrid urine in public squares and in the Metro; not constant, just occasionally wafting. Josh is convinced the French are just sneakily uncouth; I think it was a certain flower that grew in all the public gardens and flowerbeds. Six of one, half dozen of the other☺

Smallness. Everything in the City is close: close to the ceiling, close to the wall, close to one another. In the small Brasseries (brewery cafes) that are on every corner, the sidewalk café has small round tables that are probably four inches apart. Yet, no fashionista with a trendy hobo bag or wing-tipped businessman with coattails ever jostled a single espresso. Walking in and out of these rows of tables without upsetting someone’s lunch proved difficult for Joshua, and the proximity to other conversations proved uncomfortable for me.

On our first night in the City, despite our mounting fatigue, we ventured out from the Villa St. Martin. We wandered around our petite arrondissement (small neighborhood) to see what we could see. We settled on a glass of wine on the block nearest our hotel. Disaster was diverted when I saved Josh from patronizing a little joint called “Le Moustache” that had beaucoup de rainbow flags and décor☺ My first test in French came when the Grande Dame of the corner pub spoke only French through her toothless grin. Despite my long separation from the language, I managed to successfully order two drinks and pay for them. Tres bien.

Our first day in Paris began at the Royal Palace of the Louvre. And, royal it was! Joshua and I were unprepared for this space. Not only are the 15th century buildings beautiful, but the glass pyramided courtyards and manicured Baroque gardens, as well. We saw the impish smile of her majesty the Mona Lisa, marveled at the detail in the wall-sized “Wedding at Cana” (there is a little white terrier dog with a midget, impeccably painted), and craned our necks while jumping up and down to view the seated statue of Ramses II. We were both astounded to stand before the onynx-like stone of Hammurabi’s Code. Humanity’s first codified law; justice in written form. We wandered through grand spaces while being watched by the Venus de Milo and the Goddess of Victory (Nike). We wandered and wondered. Why does our culture not prize such artistic excellence and understanding? Art vs Artifact? How did all of this come to reside in Paris? Pilfering? Plunder? Gift? Legal acquisition? We burst out into the blustering, cloudy day historians, inquirers, and art officiandos, if only for a moment.

(transition to Josh’s voice)

After five hours of The Louvre and a nice lunch at the brasserie down the street we walked along the Seine River pondering our next stop. I noticed the signature square towers of Notre Dame Cathedral. After some grumbling about walking too much the day before in Prague and the pain it had inflicted on our feet we headed across the river towards the Cathedral. Our journey took us down a path with the Seine River to our left and several important governmental buildings to our right. Across the river we had a view of The Louvre and other beautiful buildings (including the Opera House) in Paris. It was at this point that I truly appreciated the grandeur of the city we were in. In every direction, for as far as I could see, this sprawling metropolis stood against the sky in all her beauty. Paris was a colossus of past, present, and future, the likes of which we had never experienced. It was New York City hundreds of years older and wiser.

We walked into the square before Notre Dame with our eyes pointed upward. There she was—those famous towers, Quasimodo, the incredible detail, and the hundreds of people doing the same thing we were. You have to understand that at this point we had seen several huge cathedrals and basilicas. Notre Dame was not grander than St. Vitus Cathedral (in Prague Castle) or some of the others we had visited. We were a little under whelmed. I will say that the stone detailing and the history of the space made it a worthwhile stop. Susanne saw a vagrant, crippled woman that she thought was Quasimodo and petitioned me to give her a donation.

Next stop: Eiffel Tower. When you are in Paris you have to do The Tower. Eiffel Tower stands as the worldwide symbol of Paris. When you walk up to the tower to see it firsthand, you realize it is also the crowning end of a beautiful and vibrant park. We passed soccer and basketball games, children and families enjoying their day, a group of teenagers performing Michael Jackson’s Thriller, and kissing tourists. For me, the approach to the tower was more interesting than the tower itself. Susanne reluctantly agreed to make the ascent, we paid our Euros and up we went. It was a freaky elevator ride (as you are surrounded by glass and open views of the city on all sides) followed by a windy summit. It is so high above the city that the view is not very detailed. We did it and we have the pictures.

After a The Louvre, Notre Dame, and The Eiffel Tower, we were tired for the day and made our way to an Indian restaurant called Bollywood. We sank into our chairs and appreciated great Indian cuisine and service. After dinner we returned to our Villa and to get a good night sleep.

The next day we started with the Catacombs. This leg of our trip was a recommendation from our friend Malcom. I was a little scared as we descended below the metro, below the water table, and through about a quarter mile of caves deep underground to the Catacombs. I had to hunker down in order to pass in some places. It was cold, damp, and unlike anything I had ever experienced before. The cave opened up to the Catacombs. We were surrounded by piles of human bones, etched stone poetry and philosophy (all in French). There were altars and monuments. It was unbelievable. The bones were everywhere and you could touch them. In fact if you were not paying attention you could easily back into them. Death. This was a different sensation than we experience in the U.S. We have a tendency to sanitize death and kid ourselves that we can somehow escape it. The Catacombs are a reminder of how we will all end up. It is not intended to be grim but rather a reminder of our own mortality. One quotation says something like enjoy the days you have because the end could come at any moment.

After dusting ourselves off and entering the world of the living we set out for Shakespeare and Company. The decision to visit this bookstore was Susanne’s idea. It is a fantastic English bookstore nestled in Paris’ Latin District. The guy who started it is still alive (in his 90’s) and the store doesn’t look like it has changed at all since many of the Beat Poets visited there in the 50’s and 60’s. Books stacked in every direction, exposed rafters, corners to read and explore ideas, a picturesque view of Notre Dame from the upstairs window, a grand selection of books to buy, and an even grander selection of books you could only read. The authors signed many of the books. It was a great stop.

As we left Shakespeare and Company and the Latin District it only seemed appropriate to eat our first Crepes in Paris. Saint Michel was the neighborhood where the magic happened. I munched down a Nutella and pistachio crepe and the remainder of Susanne’s Asiago cheese crepe. They were a little better than expected but certainly added to our Paris experience.

We rode the metro to L’Arc de Triomphe as we wiped the rest of our crepes off of our faces. Our expectations for L’Arc were low. When we emerged from our metro stop we were greeted by rushing and chaotic traffic surrounding L’Arc. I am very glad that we did not drive in Paris. Their system of driving seems to be based upon initiative and a complex psychological interaction between hesitation and action. The cars circling L’Arc were rushing around in a formation resembling at least 10 ‘lanes’. There were actually NO lanes at all, just cars circling around nearly running into each other all of the time. We had decided it was not worth it to get run over on our way to L’Arc. Then we noticed the underground access point and proceeded on our way.

L’Arc de Triomphe was much bigger than expected. The floor underneath L’Arc is adorned with memorials to various wars. Through Susanne’s translation I was able to comprehend the speech emblazoned in brass that was given by then General Charles de Gaulle upon the realization that his forces were losing to the Germans. I found it to be very emotional (by the way I am still struggling with an incredible anti-German bias following this trip). This was the place where Napoleon marched into Paris. This is the place where Hitler matched when he took France. As we found out from the interactive screens at the top of L’Arc, Napoleon and Hitler were only two of the several historic events commemorated at this location. We enjoyed a great view of Paris (much better than the Eiffel Tower mostly because it is in the center of the city) and made our way down the 283 stairs on the spiral staircase, which took us to the bottom. L’Arc was a pleasant surprise. Viva la France!

From L’Arc we marched down the Champs Ely sees and checked out some of the shops on the world famous street. Generally it was like a mall except for the fact that all of those French designers that people buy from around the world are BASED on the Champs. We spent some time getting sprayed by perfume but generally were done with the grand boulevard before we started. I found it interesting that Susanne bought nothing on the Champs. What a wonderful wife!

We ducked into our Metro stop at the end of our Champs tour and we were on our way to The Bastille neighborhood. The Bastille itself (of French Revolution fame) has been replaced by a column memorial to the revolution. It was an OK memorial. We continued on in an attempt to find Vin Leche (infamous location recommended by a friend). Susanne was able to get us there by asking locals for directions in French. As a person who speaks no French, let me tell you it was great to travel with someone who does. While many French people speak English they are not knocking themselves out to help you. Vin Leche was nice establishment. We enjoyed a couple of drinks and continued on to a Sushi restaurant for dinner. The food was good. The most interesting part about the restaurant was the music. For the first time in France (everywhere else we had been had clear Michael Jackson and Celine Deon fetishes) we heard American music. 90’s love songs entertained us—Brian Adams to boot. After dinner we strolled around the neighborhood and headed back to our villa for the night.

Susanne again

This day we awoke at the crack of dawn to be scooped up by our quintessentially French tour-guide, Laurent. He had bushy eyebrows, a pointy nose, scarf, and a brisk walk. We had the divine pleasure of being joined by a young Portuguese couple and a middle aged couple from Chicago. (The former pleasure being significantly more sincere than the later.) It was by providence alone that we made it through the morning rush-hour traffic from Paris proper to Versailles. A bit of history…

Chateau de Versailles was a rural, country retreat for the French royal family prior to Louis XIV, The Sun King. Prior to his reign, the family moved from residence to residence, The Louvre, Versailles, etc. He was the first of the Ancient Regime to take up permanent residency at the palace. As his self-declared title of Sun King suggests, to L. XIV the role of the king belonged at the center of the universe with all of his royal subjects, nobleman, trades people, and peasants moving around it. And so it was that he insisted that the nobility join him in residence at Versailles. The palace itself was not large enough for the ministries of government and the nobility, so the town of Versailles grew up around the palace, which is now a suburb of Paris, about 20 km away.

Louis XIV, XV, and XVI all lived at Versailles, with each royal family adding to the palace, it’s gardens, and collections, what e’er their fancies. It was at these very golden leafed gates that a mob of angry Parisians brandished their pitchforks in 1789. And it was through the red and metallic tapestried secret door that Marie Antoinette escaped the mob, at least the first time. All of these stories and more were narrated to us as Laurent pulled our silver mini-van into the gravel parking area in front of the palace.

We traveled through room after room of self-commissioned paintings of the Bourbon Dynasty. Three kings, several queens, dauphins, princesses, and the religious establishment. We saw a chapel built “dedicating all the glory of France to God.” In this chapel, ironically, services and protocol all revolved around the entrance and whims of the king. Each ceiling was more beautiful than the last. Apartments dedicated to receiving visitors, for balls, for defense strategies, for intimate entertaining, to Mars, to Venus, to war, to peace, and above all to vanity.

We traveled through the Hall of Mirrors, which links the War to the Peace room. Our smoky reflections danced in and out of the sunlight with the ghosts of President Wilson, Minister Chamberlain, his majesty, her majesty, all the majesties, gold, silver, and the longing of Narcissus. From the Hall of Mirrors we moved to her majesty the queen’s private chambers. Nineteen heirs of France were born here, all publicly, all to the Glory of France, and much to the astonishment of Joshua and Susanne as they imagined the amniotic fluid splashing onto the Persian carpets.
Outside the Palace are perfectly, meticulously manicured gardens. Cone shaped evergreen trees and labyrinths of bushes with not a needle or branch growing past the shapely plane. We looked out over acres and acres of lush land covered in reflecting pools, forests, flowers, and history. Far in the distance our eyes settled on the Grande and Petite Trianons.

After finishing our time at Versailles Palace we moved on with our tour guide to The Grand Trianon. It was built in the northwestern part of the Domain of Versailles at the request of Louis XIV, as a retreat for the King and his maîtresse en titre of the time, the marquise de Montespan, and as a place where the King and invited guests could take light meals (collations) away from the strict étiquette of the Court. The area was a beautiful green area with rows of trees. Although we only saw it from the comfort of our touring vehicle, it was easy to see why it would be used as a retreat for the King. We had begun to feel a little stuffy ourselves after spending so much time at the Palace.

The Petit Trianon (Marie Antoinette's famous domain) is situated within the area of The Grand Trianon. The Petit Trianon consisted of more beautiful gardens and well-kept green spaces. Surprisingly, it looked more like a home in rural Nebraska than something you might expect from the French countryside. There were pastures filled with sheep and cottages where livestock and horses were kept. Our tour guide informed us that classrooms of students are brought out to the area to see what a working farm looks like. A peaceful spot for Antoinette to reside prior to being guillotined before the masses during the French Revolution.

Following our time with the French Kings and Queens we took the Metro towards what we had been told was the African part of town (Stalingrad). We headed this way in search of an African restaurant. Although we were unsuccessful in finding such a restaurant, we ended up at the Lebanese Restaurant and Patisserie where Susanne successfully ordered (in French) a massive platter of vegetarian food. It was awesome!

After being re-charged we made our way back to Villa St. Martin and prepared for our last night in Paris at Montmartre. Montmartre is a hill on the northern edge of the city. On the way towards our destination we passed the Moulin Rouge and other famous burlesque clubs in what seemed to be the sex district. We took a cable car up the last several hundred feet up to the top of Montmartre. We stepped out into the district where Salvador Dalí, Modigliani, Claude Monet, Pablo Picasso and Vincent van Gogh once had studios. This area of town is historically known for its artists and musicians.

Montmartre was the capstone of our trip. It was by far the most romantic place we had ever been. There were artists and musicians on every corner. Each winding street had its own café, restaurant, and unique shops. The end of each street was a cliff overlooking Paris. We toured the Basilica of the Sacred Heart and watched the sun fall behind the city. Imagine looking at the entire city of Paris from the steps of the Basilica with live music playing in background—that was where we spent our final evening! Dinner was at La Boheme restaurant where we enjoyed crepes, a bottle of wine, and way too much cheese. After dinner we got lost on the streets and in the moment. The streets were lined with artists who wanted to paint our portrait. Susanne and I decided this would be the best souvenir. I seriously absolutely watching my beautiful wife get her portrait done. What a night. What an end to our journey.

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Comments

[kyle]

Bravo!
By far THE BEST JOURNAL I HAVE EVER READ!...WOW!... Loved hearing all the names of places...the visuals you gave(big plus)..the sounds the smells(not sure on the Urine Flower bit..but.....to each their own) The/some of the pictures were a real treat to compare and follow along with too!..I realy appreciate all the time you put in to keep a blog..to task your brain to record and share opposed to just keeping it all for the 'moment'.. Très bien fait! kyle