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Published: July 12th 2007
This joyful reunion between the Francophile and the spiritual homeland wasnt everything I imagined it to be but there is still something about this place that sparks or tugs at something in my soul.
Wednesday, July 11 Having arrived in Paris weary, all Lily, Derek and I managed on our first evening was a walk around the Champs Elysees and surrounds. This is where the big money of Paris lives and it was definitely the wrong place to look for a cheap feed - we ended up going to Pomme de Pain on the Champs Elysees, the exact same one as I visited last time I was in Paris (2003 MRGS France trip people!). Pomme de Pain is kind of a mix between Subway and McDonalds, with a French twist - baguette sandwiches, on their own or in a combo with a drink and dessert.
We must have passed more designer boutiques than you can shake a baguette at - Dior, Rocha, Zegna, Chanel, Hermes, Yves Saint Laurent, etc etc etc. After walking past all of these fabulous boutiques and becoming increasingly depressed about our student poverty, we reached le Pont d'Alma, where we got our first glimpse
of the Eiffel Tower at dusk. We were awestruck by it, even myself on the second time around. Little did we know how stunning it would be later.
Our Bateaux Mouches cruise was a fine introduction to Paris for Lily and a beautiful reacquaintance for Derek and myself. As a filthy Francophile it was really lovely to see people fall in love with the place. All major monuments and sites along the river were covered and to stunning effect - my words don't do it justice and unfortunately due to the speed of the boat many of my pictures cannot either. All I can say is that Paris by night is, and to me always will be, one of the most stunningly beautiful, breathtaking sights and experiences I have ever been privileged enough to have, and I cannot recommend it highly enough.
On the way back to the hostel on the metro, we were entertained by a well dressed crazy man. Initially beginning his rambles about the plight of 'nous les africains' (us Africans) in France, he broke out into a hoarse and grizzled rendition of Akon's 'Don't Matter'. We christened him Mr. Akon and he is one
of my fondest memories of my entire trip so far. If some of you get me drunk enough in future you may be privileged enough to witness an imitation.
Thursday, July 12 Unfortunately we only had the evening on this day, but I feel it was well spent. My friend from my Chantilly homestay in 2003, Cecile, now lives in Paris, and showed us around for the evening. She's grown up a lot from the awkward 14 year old with braces whom I first met four years ago - she's now a classy young lady, every inch a Parisienne - especially when clip-clopping around the cobbles of St Michel, cigarette perched in one hand. She took us to Galeries Lafayette first - basically Smith & Caugheys x 20 (+ Sistine Chapel domed ceiling). Although a different kind of opulence from Harrods - no faux-Egyptian decor here - the opulence of these places that merely sell various goods makes me a little bit queasy. Doesn't say very much about the priorities of the human race, really.
From there it was off to St Michel for dinner, in one of the cheaper tourist trap 'authentic' French restaurants. Had my first
kir - white wine with fruit liqueur. Mine was peach and very refreshing. French cider (cidre) from Normandie was a fine chaser, but I think I prefer Bulmers. Our waiter was a cheeky bugger and one of Lily's least favourite people after he made a smart comment about her hair. He also took about ten years sorting out the bill, and was blatantly hitting on Cecile (although I don't blame him). Dinner was generally enjoyable though - conversation flowed freely, Cecile's decent English and my decent French being enough to keep everybody happily afloat. Cecile should have been afloat in a different sense, the drinks she was throwing back, but she managed herself very well, although she did giggle at Derek's attempts at French, much to his frustration. After a brief walk in the wrong direction to find Notre Dame, we headed back to the hostel.
Friday, July 13 Lily and I couldn't help but notice the fact that it was 'Soldes' (Sale) season in Paris, and under the pretence of Lily needing a cardigan and some jeans we hit a few stores on Rue de Rivoli in Les Halles, Paris' best shopping district for those on a non-Dior
budget. Even though we got some fantastic deals we still spent about five days budget in around two hours, but both of us are very sure that all of these items of clothing will come in useful at some point over the next seven months. Who could resist a store called Naf Naf?! Anyway we have banned ourselves from shopping until we get back to Camden in London in September.
From Les Halles we caught the Metro to Montmartre. There are few places in the world where I feel truly alive, but Montmartre is one of them. Somewhere amongst all the touristy trappings there is something that jolts me into life, whether its looking back up a steep street staircase, sitting in local bar with a kir, or winding my way down the hill past cafes... can't explain it. Anyway we met Derek and Anna at the top of the stairs at Sacre Coeur. Going inside and wandering around, there is nowhere else in the world that I have ever felt this much at peace. Its some kind of transcendent - yet non religious - sense of all-enveloping calm. Weird. Many thoughts crossed my mind, including that if I,
certainly agnostic, felt such a sense of peace there, how would someone who deeply believed in the religion feel about it.
Also, one of the small vestiges around the rim of the basilica was dedicated to Sainte-Face, which made me really Laugh Out Loud.
After having a drink at Au Relais Cafe, where we encountered the most beautiful French man I've ever seen in my life, we made our way over the hill, through the tourist trap of Place du Tertre, and down through winding Rue Lepic to the Deux Moulins Cafe - as seen, of course, in Amelie. After a few happy snaps we took headed down to Pigalle to take the metro to the Eiffel Tower. We got there eventually, hungry, sweaty and parched. This, along with the the 35 degree heat, made the piss stench and sticky grime of the metro that much more unbearable. However after we tracked down some lunch, we made our way to the lawns at the foot of the Eiffel Tower and relaxed in the shade for a while. Was a lovely setting really - a handsome Frenchman plucking away at his guitar, us enjoying iceblocks and cold Orangina -
a beautiful Parisian summer's day. It was too hot and too expensive to actually ascend the tower, but it was nice to sit and relax underneath it - an experience I hadn't had before.
To St Michel again for dinner, and as we got off the metro I dashed into Gibert Jeune, a bookstore spread between several buildings and streets, to pick up a copy of Le Petit Prince in French, something I'd been after for at least two years. We sat in front of Notre Dame ('Noter Dayme' if you're an irritating American tourist) for a while and although the scaffolding from 2003 was gone I was still fairly unimpressed - beautiful facade, but teeming with too many tourists to have the sanctity and dignity that a place like that should have. Plus, the pigeons outside were far too aggresive and and daring for my liking, as they seem to be all over Paris. Not appreciated. I love St Michel and its typically Parisian charm but naturally tourists outnumber Parisians by about 6:1.
Saturday, July 14 - Bastille Day I've been excited about being in Paris on Bastille Day before I even knew I was going to
be there this year. It was Anna's birthday so we stuck to her agenda, starting with the Louvre in the morning. Since it was free today, the place was packed to the brim, and again, that art gallery ambiance just wasnt there. We were pressed for time so we walked the Grand Gallery, saw the Mona Lisa (she's never really impressed me) and the Winged Victory, and departed. Would have loved to have seen the Dutch Masters gallery but I figured I'm going to Holland - there may be one or two of their works there.
From the Louvre we made our way to the Orsay Museum, via the Tuileries gardens. These former quarries for red roof tile clay are now one of the most well-enjoyed public spaces in Paris, and its not difficult to see why. Broad, tree-lined avenues, manicured and symmetrical greenery - the only bad things about the place were the disgusting canoodling couples and the glaring white of the pathways. At the end of the main avenue there is a large fountain and pond, the rim of which was covered with tourists cooling off their feet. We bought some ridiculously priced but very tasty ice
creams and followed suit.
The Orsay had queues of up to an hour in the hot sun, and our time again was limited, so we gave that a miss and headed to St Michel. After stopping at Notre Dame, which Anna hadn't seen, we met up with Anna's friend Dani at Odeon. The event that I had perhaps been looking forward to the most in Paris was tonight - Harry Potter et l'Ordre du Phenix in English, with French subtitles. Of course I loved the film but I particularly enjoyed noting the French translations of wizarding world terms. Hogwarts is Poudlard, Muggles are Moldus, Dementors are Detraqueurs. My two favourite translations however were Celui-Dont-Le-Nom-Il-Faut-Ne-Pas-Prononcer (He Who Must Not Be Named) and baguette (for wand!).
After the film we went to Dani's apartment for dinner and to watch the Bastille Day fireworks at the Eiffel Tower. My words cannot justfy the amazing panorama that this place has but hopefully my pictures can. The Pantheon, les Invalides, la Tour Eiffel, la Forum des Halles and Sacre Coeur were all visible and brilliantly lit. As I said Paris at night is breathtaking, and this only reaffirmed that opinion. Home cooked ratatouille pasta and a delicious chocolate gateau (from the supermarket, but tastier than many I've had at cafes at home) plus delightful company made for a really lovely evening, and the amazing fireworks just added to the atmosphere - again, I'll let my pictures do the talking but I think they will be insufficient. I never thought I could be so fascinated and impressed by pretty twinkling lights. A beautiful and most memorable evening.
Sunday, July 15 A fairly aimless last day in Paris. After rising late and spending most of the day sorting out emails and suchlike, Lily and I bid goodbye to my brother who was off to Venice, and after a quick freshen up at the hostel we headed to St Michel for dinner and drinking.
However first we stopped at Shakespeare and Co., a bookstore recommended by Lily's grandparents. This place is the most adorable and haphazard bookstore you could ever hope to find. It could have been plucked straight out of Diagon Alley (Harry Potter reference) - a black cat asleep on the counter, shelves sagging with the weight of books, three upstairs rooms crammed to the brim with books not for sale but purely for reference. Family run for three generations, there is more anecdotal and literary history in that place than you could shake a baguette at. I think anyone who goes there is instantly compelled to someday return.
Lily and I, after leaving Shakespeare and Co, then made a grave error. We decided to try a recommended cheap feed - 'gyros'. This is basically lettuce, tomato, tzatziki, non-descript meat product and fries - yes, thats right, fries - wrapped in a pita bread. Its disgusting, but its big, and there's no denying you don't get a lot of food for not many euros. We sat down to eat them right by the river, beneath Notre Dame. This wasnt such a great time for me - by the time I had finished with my gyros there was a small scattering of salad and meat scratchings on the cobbles beneath me. By the time i got three quarters of the way through my gyros, I realised that the bad it was doing (cruelty to arteries) was far outweighing the good (ending hunger) and thus my gyros was abandoned. A horrifying experience, but a lesson well learnt.
Lily and I then sat down with some wine by the river and enjoyed it. We're not quite as sure if the passing tourists on the footpaths and night cruises enjoyed our comments as much as we did, but we certainly had a blast. After wine we headed up to St Michel for a crepe - the best crepe I've ever had in fact, rum, butter and sugar - then marvelled at Notre Dame, or 'NOTER DAYME' as we kept exclaiming loudly, much to the behest of American tourists. We even had one take our picture. I think, if possible, that viewing Paris by night when one is under the influence is more fascinating than when one is not.
And thus ends my time in Paris, this time around. I will be coming back in December on my friends' orders and I like knowing that I have so much to see still. I feel so very alive in Paris - the City of Light is still one of my favourite places to be, and at times when I was feeling horribly weary the energy of the place - particularly in Montmartre and St Michel - picked me right back up. Although I don't feel as at home in Paris as I do in London, it still occupies a very large place in my heart.
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Kerryface
non-member comment
Pronom relatif!
"Celui-Dont-Le-Nom-Il-Faut-Ne-Pas-Prononcer" Now there's a name that a French teacher would be proud of!