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Published: November 16th 2023
Was I an Aristocrat in a previous life?
I swear to God I think I am an Austrian princess reincarnated.Where was I traveling to for my Fifty-Fifth birthday? I kept my family & friends guessing this year. The game parameters were simple. Somewhere I hadn’t been before, and absolutely no hints. The person lucky enough to name the destination would get a prize pack from there.
Well. Holy shit. This awoke some kind of carnal competitive gene amongst everyone I ever knew. I was inundated by texts and emails and phone calls.
All good guesses. All wrong.
Some of my closest friends were convinced I’d go tropical. Nope. Colleagues, Iceland. My parents came up with Octoberfest. Nope. One Aunt thought perhaps Venice.
My younger cousins tried to trip me up by enquiring about the actual airline, or the time of departure, or the type of clothing I had packed. Airport? Did they think I was born yesterday? I withstood their relentless interrogations. Not one guessed correctly.
On the official day of my birth, I sent out a picture of myself on top of the Eiffel Tower. The ol’ Iron Lady. It seemed apropos, as I was feeling a tad bit rusty retiring from my prison job.
Viva la France!
Two days before my
The Money Shot
Until you actually see it in person, you cannot understand the sheer size birthday, I rolled out of the Charles De Gault and straight into an Uber with a hairy Armenian screaming into his phone while doing evasive traffic maneuvers. Nothing short of impressive.
Dumped off without much fanfare along the fringes of the 14th arrondissement in Montrouge, I knew I’d be happier in suburbia. Here, I can blend. A quick stroll around the neighbourhood to get my bearings, and I popped into the grocer to top up my sustenance horde.
The French. They come by their reputation honestly, don’t they? I mean who has an entire isle dedicated to yogurts?
The city itself. Expectantly French. Sirens wee woo wee woo wee woo’ing through the narrow streets. Graffiti and garbage applied so thick, it almost looks artsy. In the distance, I could see the Eiffel Tower lit up under a drastic sky.
I walked towards the catacombs with the idea I could just turn up. Denied. By a snooty doorman. I got waved away. My behaviour was very Americanistic so I’ll admit, the snoot was justified. Note to self. Never go out into judgyland again without a game plan.
Still with me?
Here’s my first time impressions
Fifty-Five!
Happy birthday to me! A retirement gift of Paris.
I discovered the subtle enjoyment of strolling unnoticed through their Saturday street markets full of antiques, fruits/veg, trinkets, and books. I also witnessed Parisians going about their business, vaping and letting their dogs shit all over the sidewalks.
So carefree are they, the Parisians sitting shoulder to shoulder reviewing cellphone screens in closely set tables, facing outwards. I swear the only reason there is a cafe culture here is so they can all smoke like chimneys. Men with cartoonishly large helmets on tiny scooters go by with obnoxious mufflers that belch blue smoke, filthy streets littered with cigarette butts and pigeons, and darkened piss stains. I loved it all.
The Louvre at dawn. The glass pyramid amongst a stark sky. Pleased. As the crowds queue and the umbrella salesmen hover, I feel their nervous energy. Even if you bought a skip-the-queue ticket, you still queue.
Once inside, me and thousands of patrons all pack in tightly to see the Mona Lisa, as I wait my turn I wonder how old she was. Could she be my age? No. Lisa Gherandini Giocondo was about 25 when this portrait was painted. Geez. Time was not kind
The Lovely Bones
6 million Parisians living underground in the catacombs was it? I thought she was a rich, older woman living in the renaissance times. She stared me down like she was doing her own age analysis on me.
The endless rooms at the Louvre and the opulence of the ceilings and tapestry covered walls really got me. Thrilled. What kind of museum is this? I actually forgot that it was once a palace. I had to just stop for a second and collect myself because I was being over stimulated by the sheer spectacle of it. I even fangirled out over the Crown Jewels. Whose palace was this? Which Louis? Will need to look that up, but I suspect it’s the 14th one.
Before venturing outside into the pooling rain, I enjoyed a cafeteria lunch of savory pumpkin soup, and I even splurged for a delicious pot of raspberry mousse. Mind you, I almost needed a bank loan to pay for it, but I’ll admit I was still in this trance of grandeur, so my wallet didn’t even notice. Overall, I really did get my money’s worth tackling almost the entire Louvre in 4 hours. Feet hurt though.
As the sun made its appearance, I spotted
The SideChick
Everyone knows this face. Lisa del Giocondo one of those toutsuite hop-on-hop-off buses and made my executive decision right then. No shame in being one of “those” tourists. Traffic is such a nuisance in Paris, and the zillions of tourists all bustling about, nightmare. Plus, apparently the Rugby World Cup was in town. I’m seeing waves of middle-aged, inebriated men adorned in green sport shirts, bellowing chants. They are literally everywhere. Ireland verses South Africa. I avoided anything that resembled a pub.
From the safety of my bus perch, we went around the Arc de Triumph, the rebuild of Notre Dame cathedral, Palais de Chaillet (I don’t know either), Champs de Mars, and crisscrossed the entire core of the city, when not deadlocked in traffic jams.
I wasn’t sure where to start, so when we arrived at the top of the hill Montmartre with the Sacré Coeur Basilica, I got off to explore it and took some great pictures of the Eiffel Tower, before descending down into the chaos on the Pont d'Iéna bridge, and found myself walking with the rest of the city until I found a metro M.
Oh yes, and King Charles & Camilla are in town for my birthday too,
Life in the streets of Paris
The roasted chestnut and corn salesmen worked out of shopping buggies and I was surprised at how many customers they had. I’m not a fan of either delicacy so British flags are flying everywhere. I stood with everyone else as their black car entourage barreled down the Avenue des Champs-Elysées with the wee woos. It was a very "peasants verses royalty" moment.
How French do I feel!
Hopefully they won’t mess up my plans to visit Versailles in the coming days. I’ve heard they are having a lavish dinner party there with celebs like Mick Jagger and Ken Follet and Hugh Grant. I wasn’t invited.
I’m very pleased and oddly comfortable to be in France, Albeit I do realize, this is just Paris and I’d be ridiculous to think it’s an accurate reflection of the rest of the country. Further exploration will be required.
Being a Canadian, I already subliminally know French. French words I didn’t realize I knew, which are flying out of my mouth. And of course, the piece de resistance…
ha ha see what I did there, the Eiffel Tower!
In my 55 years, I’ve seen countless images of this engineering marvel, but until you actually stand underneath it, you can’t grasp the massiveness of this iron structure.
Wow!
I found the skip-the-line queue for climbing, and after a
Beautiful
Really nice bit of a wait, marched up the stairs with hundreds of others, before taking the lift to the very top. Champagne was on offer along with macaroons if you so care to indulge. With this stunning clear day, views were as far as the eye could see. Unbelievable! I queued for all the lineups within the tower and made my way up down and around it all. I took a moment to myself and just view watched before I mailed a postcard off to my only niece.
Then my birthday location reveal was transmitted out to
my people. The accolades came instantaneously. Everyone had been waiting.
I booked the famous cafe Les Deux Magots for my birthday lunch, but they almost gave away my table when I turned up five minutes late. A quick flash of ID and a little begging, and I was reinstated. I went as French as I could with the menu, ordering burgundy snails, duck foie gras with toasts, their house Niçoise salad, champagne, and some pastries from la grande épicerie de Paris. My bill? $150 Canadian, with a tip for the snooty waiter who could have cared less it was my birthday.
Men in Green
Crammed into anywhere that sells alcohol these guys were just waiting around for their team to play, they hardly noticed Paris. Those royals, Chuck & Cammie, left Versailles in one piece. I went out on the train and enjoyed the afternoon. I had a head cold but I rallied. Ok well, I hate being in pushy crowds, especially when I’m under the weather. So many people. Let me rephrase that. So many people who have no spacial awareness. Ugh. Again the palace was massive, and opulent, good ol’ Louis 14 with his inflated ego. Here, Marie Antoinette and Louis 16 were run out of town, and all their treasures looted. Such a show of wealth and power. No wonder the French people revolted.
My last few days I enjoyed a bit of shopping, cafe’ing, sightseeing, restaurant’ing, and making my way around the city by foot and metro, and the odd cheeky Uber. Walking amongst them, the French appear to only have two settings. Speed walking with an air of importance while vaping, or leisurely stroll, while vaping.
Restaurants are stupid expensive in Paris. Or maybe it’s just me who can’t afford Europe? All I know is I’ve been living off pots of yogurt and day-old baguette with chervil cheese spread.
Which was amazing, by the way! I
The tragic Rebuild
I know for me, it’s not a big deal to see a burned down church but I did really want to see Notre Dame as it was. Hopefully someday I will. returned to the catacombs with an online ticket this time round. Holy, you literally go five stories underground and walk for miles underneath the city, popping up in another arrondissement. The amount of bones & skulls are horrifying, 6 million people reburied, but arranged very attractively. It feels very Avantgarde, and definitely French.
Turns out, Parisians are not exactly as rude as I expected them to be. Waiters yes. But most of the locals I encountered in their daily activities tried to engage me and made friendly concessions, like allowing me first in lineups. My gesturing was at a level of impatience they approved of. Most allowed me to bumble some French instead of immediately berating me in English. I learned buying any fresh fruit or veg at the market requires you to weigh and price it yourself or risk getting yelled at by the cashier.
New French word: Faux Pas.
After my birthday week was over, I reported back to the Charles De Gault, which for an international airport, is just nuts.
All I can wonder is why it looks like Dr. Seuss designed it? My next destination is one I’ve waited all my life
Saturday Markets
Loved walking around the neighbourhood checking out the items for sale under white tents. It was fascinating to see, Egypt. I’m so excited and donned my Egypt Air flight with the confidence of a lunatic. Hey what can I say, it was cheap.
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RENanDREW
Ren & Andrew
Happy Birthday!
And what an amazing place to celebrate! From reading about your travel loves over the years, I probably would have guessed your birthday pick was somewhere tropical too. Looking forward to exploring Egypt through your eyes :)