Paris Part 2: Le Flaneur

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Some say that the Parisians are the best explores of Paris. Even though they walk the streets everyday, they always seem to find a new alley to wonder down where a new experience is awaiting to be discovered. There is even a word that describes this practiced art, le flaneur. To flanuer is to walk, to stroll, in an unhurried fashion. For the rest of my weekend trip, I decided I was going to be a Parisian. Well, at least try to act like one. I decided that this would be the best way to see Paris, I would become the ultimate flanuer.

First thing first, how do I hide myself in the crowd and blend in as a city dweller? After spending a week last year here, and the past two days, it was so easy to tell the difference between and local and a fudgy. I had to put on the face of a Parisian. To do this, I meditated for a second thinking to myself..."Hmpf." Make that noise, sounds like a snotty sigh. That is what I believe Parisians think as the walk the streets, which creates a look of indifference on their faces. Whatever came their way, they just didn't let it affect THEIR world. Facial expression; check.

Next was my attitude. Being a very friendly person, I had to lower my morals and become, well, an ass. If someone threw a judgmental look my way, I would return it with a judgmental glare. If someone bumped into me, I would wait until they would say pardon first, then return the pardon under my breath, without looking back making the other feel like it was their fault. With the numerous games of chicken played on the narrow sidewalks, I would never be the one to back down, causing even old women to divert their routes into the dangerous street (okay, I never went that far, even Parisian Dylan has some morals). Attitude; check. Now all I had to do was pray that no one asked my fake Parisian self anything in French because my cover would be blown. I was ready to take to the streets with my new persona.

In all honesty, I probably looked like a total idiot. Trying to be mean, and put on a face of indifference is no easy task, and my acting ability is as good as my sowing ability, nonexistent. I wish someone had taken a picture of me so I could laugh at it later.

Avoiding as many crowds as possible. I came across my first attraction, Musee de Cluny. I showed the woman my student ID and was ready to purchase a discounted ticket. She looked up, and asked me something in French. Damn it, my cover was blown. English? She asked where I was studying. Nantes. She studied the card some more, and said libre. Huh, did I hear her right? Free? Nothing in Paris is free! I didn't ask any questions and before she could say another word I slipped into the museum. Going through the numerous rooms filled with ancient artifacts found throughout Paris over the past 2,000 years, I felt like a thief for not having paid. It felt rather nice. The museum was nearly empty; I think it was the first time of my weekend where I was in a room that wasn't shared by 100 other people. Finding free museums, and escaping crowds, I didn't think I would be able to hide my smile for the sake of saving face!

My aunt Cindy had told about the crypts of Notre Dame, and said they would be worth visiting. Finding it on my map, before stepping out into the eyes of the public of course, I headed towards the eye of the storm; Notre Dame.

Just after arriving, I knew it had been a mistake. Sight seeing buses, tour groups, bike tour groups, the little tour guides holding up goofy looking umbrellas so their guests wouldn't lose them in the mass, kissing couples, pissing dogs, pigs, rats, ants, Ezmeralda... you get the picture. The collage of characters was overwhelming, but I was already there. Taking my last breath of clean air, I put on my meanest Paris face and sought out the entrance of the crypt. This had better be worth it!

Finding the entrance was simple, it was where everyone...wasn't. Others were shying away from the entrance like it was leaper; that was a good sign. Descending the stairs, a refreshing blast of cool air welcomed me as a slipped into hiding below the crowded world above. Into its depths I went as the noise, the heat, and the dust passed over my head. And guess what. There was a single person in line. Man, I was getting good at this whole avoiding crowd thing! For the amount of people standing just a few meters above my head, I felt totally secluded from the outside world. Crypte archeologique de Parvis Notre-Dame, was sucking me in, while it told the tale of Paris's historic past.

In 1965 construction on the square just in front of Notre-Dame was well underway, when the construction team discovered Gallo-Roman walls from the city of Lutetia. Around the time of 27 BC to 14 AD the site was home to a Gaulish tribe called the Parisii. Talk about old! How it had survived all this time is beyond my comprehension. With the 92 zillion people standing above me, with all their cameras and fanny packs, I was relieved to know that the stones had stood for so long, and that they would probably not crumble during the next hour, causing all those people and rocks just above my head showering over me.

It was a truly beautiful sight. Yes, Notre Dame is a wonderful work of architecture (made famous by The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, thanks Victor Hugo). But these stonewall ruins, were the building blocks of the entire city so long ago and without them, Paris would be a blip in history. After the history lesson, I was ready for a cup of coffee. My hope was to find one that was within my budget (not exceeding the 3 euro standard, that seems to plagues Paris).

While on Rue Saint. Michele, I earned some praise for my acting skills. A group of young women (English speaking) walking by, and asked "Ou est Monoprix?" Without breaking character, I easily could have told them I spoke their natural language, I responded "J'n sais pas. Desole." Patting myself on my back, I was proud of my acting. Dylan 1, tourists who don't know where they are going 0. A victory coffee was deserved, and I didn't care if it was 3 euros, I was a Parisian!

Sparked by the caffeine, I was ready for my next move. I paid my bill and headed out in the general direction of nowhere. Surely something would catch my eye.

Sure enough, something, well someone did.

Place de la Concorde was shinning in the mid afternoon sun. While waiting for the light to turn, I stood on the corner and was admiring the largest square in Paris, when a young woman walked up next to me. Looking around, I realized that all of a sudden we were the only two people around. Whoa, what was going on? Was this a prank? Where had everyone gone? Why was I standing alone with a beautiful woman, in the middle of Paris? Weird. Brushing the silly idea of a prank out of my mind, the light changed and I continued with my walk.

But my walk was no longer reserved for one soul. This mysterious girl seemed to be walking in the same direction, at the same place. A block or two up the Champs-Elysées, we were still neck and neck in a race to nowhere. Finally, after building up some confidence in my head, I asked her where she was going. Immediately after opening my mouth, I prayed that she spoke in my native tongue. Seeing my lips move, she took out her earphones, and said, "What?" Ah yes! Thank you language god, she at least spoke English! Where are you going? With the shrug of her shoulders, she said she didn't know. Thank you god of; finding beautiful girls in Paris, who were doing the exact same thing I was, at the exact same time and location that I was!!! It was a miracle! Not wanting to look like an excited little kid on Christmas morning, I composed myself and said I didn't know either. All of our sudden, our two separate journeys became one shared experience. I thought stuff like this only happens in silly romantic movies? A boy bumps into a girl in the most romantic city in the world, they spend the day walking through the streets getting to know one another, decide they are in love, get married a year later, and next thing they know, they live happily ever after. Oh god, what was I getting myself into.

As we walked towards along the bustling street of Champs-Elysées (I didn't care about crowds at this point), we shared the stories of our lives. The usual, just met someone, stuff. Growing up in London, she went off to Dublin for University to study business. After graduating a few years ago, she now worked for Merill Lynch in London working on derivatives for oil companies. Great, now it was my turn to explain my simple student life where a fancy meal is at Subway. Just lie you fool I told myself. Uhhh, I grew up in Dubai, then moved to Singapore where I started a factory that makes clothing for homeless children in Africa, all before turning ten, and I was now in Paris on a quest to find the next clue to finding the holy chalice... Just kidding, I stayed true and told her I was still in school and was getting a degree studying tourism and business, all with crossed fingers hoping she wouldn't flee from my lack of fizz. To my surprise she was all about it and wanted to know more. Holy crap, maybe this would end like on of those romantic movies!

As our conversations moved on and got more intimate, we decided to stop at a cafe for a drink. Sitting in shade of the Arc de Triomphe drinking our (extremely expensive) drinks, we talked about anything and everything. Cultural differences between the United States and England, the French lifestyle, global issues, funny drunken nights, football, past relationships, and even Paris were discussed. It was one of those conversations that went uninterrupted by awkward silences. Topics flowed from one thing to the next, with smooth transitions. We were so wrapped up in our conversation that time was lost. All of a sudden my companion (who's name was still unknown) checker her watch and was startled by the time. She was supposed to have met a friend back at the hotel near Notre Dame, which was at least a 45-minute walk, fifteen minutes ago. I paid the check (and watched the rest of my cash for the weekend go bye, bye) and we scrambled into the busy roads, searching in vein trying to find the nearest metro station. Finding one, we exchanged names so we could reconnect sometime down the road, and with the blink of an eye. She was gone. Oh Paris, the games you play.

Hardly believing what had just happened, I lazily made my long walk back to my cheap hotel room, where I was terrified that a beret-bearing cockroach was looming in every nock and cranny. After washing off all the dust and sweat I had accumulated over the coarse of the day, I was ready for some grub. I walked back into the heart of the city and looked for the perfect restaurant. I finally came across a nice little place, on a quiet street in the Latin Quarter. Eating by yourself can often be awkward, how does on entertain themselves? I was lucky enough to have a show with my dinner. Sitting at the table closest to the street I got to watch the hosts, of the each restaurant perform their dance trying to reel customers into their venue. It was rather comical. They would change the position of their menu board, they would jump out and surprise unsuspecting families only to reveal the plat du jour, they tried to win over woman with pretty words, and compliments, all under the watchful eye of the competitors across the narrow road. Once they had their customers, it was in and out like a well-oiled machine, making for maximum profit. Oh Paris, the games you play.

Full from a good meal, and sleepy from a huge beer, I made my long hike home. Head spinning from trying to make light of a crazy day, sleep came easy.

Sunday morning greeted me with a bright sun and a cool breeze. For some reason, all I wanted to do was relax. And the best place in all of Paris to do that was at jardin Luxembourg. I put my Parisian face back on and made my way to the gardens stopping for a quick baguette and coffee on the way. Once I arrived, I plopped down on one of the thousands of green iron chairs that look rather uncomfortable, but are actually very nice, and dove into my book. Sitting with my sleeves and pant legs rolled up, I soaked up July's first rays of sun.

It was kind of funny, I was in Paris, and the only thing I wanted to do was sit and read my book. I had seen most of the things I wanted to see and walked a marathon every other hour, more walking was not on the top of my list. Paris had taken me into her arms. I was tired, but ready for more. I had seen everything, but nothing at the same time. I was doing nothing, but doing everything. Looking back on the weekend, while I watched the world walk by and reminiscing on my weekend adventures, I was lost in my own world. My only thought was;

This was my Paris. This was bliss.

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Photos

Cafe central
I didn't eat at this place, but it looked ascetically pleasing. I'm sure they have good food to.

Unknown cathedral
I don't remember which cathedral these beautiful stain glass windows were in, but they look cool.

Notre Dame Crowd
This was the mother load of mass. The picture does not do it justice. But you were probably in the crowd along with the rest of the world, so you know what it was like.

Crypt of Notre Dame
The original city wall, props to the dudes who built it 2,000 years ago.

The River
The Seine at one point in time, came all the way up to this wall.

Party!
Actually I have zero clue what all these people were doing. They were just standing in lines.

Last year...
I stood at this very spot and took a picture. But the ad was for a different Woody Allen film, Midnight in Paris.

Any one recognize this location?
If you do, well done. If you don't ask me about it.

Jardin Luxembourg
On a beautiful Sunday morning.

Luxembourg
That was my spot, on the right.

The green chair charm
These chairs put a charm on you making you want to stay all day.