Paris round 2

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Friday 11th July

This was my 2nd trip to Paris having visited a week ago but for only two short days. This time instead of staying in a hostel I chose to Airbnb my own tiny apartment in a funky area called Menilmontant. The flat was situated on a street filled with cafes, restaurants, bars, shops, galleries and music venues making it interesting and exciting but of course very noisy at night (lucky for me Dad had given me some ear plugs just for this type of emergency). The apartment belonged to Thomas, a musician in a rock band. He met me at the apartment, quickly showed me everything I needed including my own toilet that was located outside the flat in its own room in the hall. The toilet proved an interesting find as it was a standing/squatting toilet with no seat. I'm sure some people might have been horrified seeing such a thing but I was just curious and thought it similar to the public toilets I encountered in Taiwan when on exchange at University.

After a little sleep in, something I always seem to feel a little guilty about even when I am on holiday and can chose to do whatever I want, I went off in search of the Catacombs. I admit this is bit of a morbid way to start the day but the weather was miserable and rainy so it felt almost fitting. The Catacombs are underground ossuaries for over six million skeletons. It was opened in the late 18th century and was a way of moving the dead from their graves in churches and monastery's where they were taking up space and moving them 19 metres below the ground in order to create more space for the living above. When I arrived I was faced with one of the longest lines I have seen waiting to be let in. I had not anticipated it would be so popular but was glad I had packed my lunch, a drink and a book. Three hours later I was finally let in! Three hours of waiting and growing old. I suddenly realised that visiting Paris, no matter how beautiful the weather can be in Summer is probably not a brilliant idea because of tourist crowds. I think it would be nicer to visit in the off season swathed in layers of warm clothing. Luckily this place was definitely worth the wait! As I descended further and further down a spiral staircase I stepped into a tunnel and found myself surrounded on either side by rows of bones spreading out for over 2 kilometres. The bones were placed in artistic patters focusing mainly on the skulls and femurs. I was surprised that no barrier or glass had been put up in order to stop people from touching and disrespecting the bones. I liked that there was an element of trust in the visitors and that we could end up so close to the bones. It felt very eerie to be so near but it also made me feel very privileged to be surrounded by so many lost people. As I was taking photos I was caught in two minds about what I was doing. Was it wrong that I should be taking photos of people I had never met and was I disrespecting them in doing so? Or was I in fact honouring them after centuries and centuries these "nobodies" ordinary people, not wealthy "important" people, were now something special and in death they were being looked at with a curiosity and wonder that made people like me want to capture in order to preserve the memory even further? However I can't deny that a part of me just thought it was pretty cool. The tour probably took about 45 minutes and I was back out in the open air next to all these beautiful apartment buildings that were built over the catacombs. Looking at the buildings you would never have guessed what lay beneath them. Once I had purchased my Catacombs postcard from the gift store I made sure to blow my nose to make sure that I removed all the bone dust that might have trapped its way into my body.

Next on my tourist list was the famous Notre Dame. I had always wanted to see this building after watching the Disney movie about the hunchback as a child. I used to play with my best friend Jacqui and her Esmerelda barbie and we would make up stories about the funny cartoon gargoyles who protected the building in the movie. Now standing here in Paris and looking up at the Notre Dame in all of its gothic beauty it was so much more then I had expected. Unfortunately all the other tourists in Paris thought so too and were all lined up to get into the the church and then to climb to the top. So like a sheep I waited in line like all the others. Like the catacombs line I managed to make the time pass faster by talking to my fellow line waiter-ers. Finding out where they were from, what they were doing in Paris, where they were off to next. At one point someone saved my place in the line for me so I could buy a crepe from a street vender. I was very thankful because it is something you take for granted when travelling with others. That you can pop out of a line whenever you want and be welcomed back in again, but when you are on your own you feel stuck in the line or you will loose your place. I waited 2.5 hours to get in to the church and them up to the top. Which meant that today I had waited in lines for 5.5hrs. In this time I had finished reading the end of my book 'Memoirs of Cleopatra' and had managed to hide my tears from all the other tourists. The inside of the Notre Dame was incredible. I particularly liked the giant rose window and how the chandeliers sparkled in the dark glow of the gothic building. The ceiling was so high that I couldn't help feeling so small. When I got to the top of the building I got a beautiful view of Paris and was facing up close with some of the gargoyles. Getting up so high I was able to see the patterns and carving in the stone of the building and all the impressive workmanship.

After seeing the Notre Damn I walked across the street and was approached by an artist who wanted to sketch my picture and was adamant that it was for his own portfolio and if I really liked it then I could pay but if I didn't then I didn't have to. I should have been aware that this was a scam just like all the gypsies I had been approached by to sign partitions and had said no to. I should have said no to this. Instead I stupidly walked to a cafe to sit and have my picture sketched. He was friendly and chatted away to me while we worked. When he was finished he turned his work towards me to see and I was disapointed to see it was a caricature. I hate caricatures! They so rarely look like the person and cost a lot of money. He asked if I liked it and stupidly out of politeness I agreed that I did. Then he told me that the price was €90! A price that was easily double what I was paying in accommodation for that night. How can you possibly charge that amount for 10minutes work? I told him I could not afford it and he offered the discounted price of €60, again far too expensive. He moved the price down to €40, which was the child price. I stupidly agreed, when I should have just said no thank you and left. I walked away feeling like I was about to cry knowing I had just bought a drawing I hated for more then the price of my nights stay in Paris. I felt foolish but consoled myself that I could have purchased a tacky souvenir made in China from Paris, like a T-shirt but this sketch was at least made in Paris. To calm myself I went for a walk. By this time the sun was setting and lots of buskers were gathering around to perform. I watched a fantastic hip-hop/break dancing group that knew exactly how to work the crowd and create an exciting atmosphere. After the show I talked to them and they told me they were from all over the world and meet up in the summer to busk. Normally they are in musicals, dance crews, movies and all sorts of free lance work. The next act I saw was a roller skater who set up two lines of plastic cups and would skate/dance around the space weaving in and out of the cups trying not to knock them over. He moved effortlessly and had a real pizzaz about him. It was like watching a character from an old movie jazzing around. He was the Gene Kelly of skating. As I watched him I kept thinking I wish I could have given him my €40 instead of the artist, the skater and his talent deserved the money more.

To finish my night I went to St-Michel, with lanes of restaurants and cafes to eat French, Italian or Greek food. I chose a little French restaurant and ordered the Moules Frites (Muscles and Fries) with a glass of wine. It felt nice to treat myself to a special meal. It would have been a waste not to. I try to save money by cooking for myself but I don't want to reflect back on my trip and think "what did I eat in Paris? oh...I went home and ate eggs on toast". No, I think you have to try special things when travelling. The tastes of the country are sometimes just as important as the sights.

Saturday 12th July

Today I decided was a day of smells instead of tastes, a day to visit the famous Fragonard Perfumerie museum and store. I had heard from my friend Sara that this was a beautiful place to visit and that the perfume was divine. I have only recently opened myself up to the pleasure of perfume having bought my first perfume in Melbourne and McGee's parents buying me my second for Christmas. Perfumes used to give me sinus headaches so its only been in the last two years that I have started experimenting with bottled fragrances. But being in Paris it seemed like a very 'ladylike' thing for a girl to do for herself.

Fragonard first opened in 1926 with one scent and has gone on to become a world famous family owned business. The museum was small but filled with lovely perfume bottles, decanters, copper perfume machines and bottles of old scents. As I exited the museum and entered the store I was greeted by the most lovely sales assistant. Patiently and with enthusiasm she let me smell all the scents and provided me with knowledge off the top of her head of exactly what was in each perfume. She helped pick out two scents that worked best of my skin. After a while my nose became over powered and needed a break, so she chipped in with her nose to help me. We picked two scents Ile d'Amour (a light summer fruity smell for the day time) and Belle de nuit (a rich wintery smell for the evenings). I quickly paid for the perfumes trying not to think of the cost but was happy with my treat and reasoned that these perfumes last 8-9hrs each wear and they will last up to 6yrs, unlike regular perfumes.

Next I went to visit the Arch de Triumph and the Champs Elysees. Seeing this famous landmark I felt as though I had completed the most "touristy" things to see in Paris. It's not actually as big as I thought it would be but I liked how it was surrounded by traffic and people taking selfies while crossing the road. The Champs Elysees is just a very busy and expensive tourist place to shop. I walked along the street but couldn't help feeling a little out of pocket, and quickly decided to move on and go somewhere I could afford.

To spend the rest of the day I went to the Centre de Georges Pompidou, a modern art gallery. The building itself was impressive with escalators on the outside of the glass building leading up to galleries, exhibitions and a swanky restaurant. I got in free with my British passport and decided not to pay for the extra exhibition as the main collection would keep me busy for hours. To start off with I went to the cafe and sat down to eat the most delicious slice of lemon meringue pie. I felt I was in heaven. Afterwards, in order to attempt to burn off the pie I walked along to the main collections. I wandered around looking at so many famous artists work but felt a weird sensation fall over me. I didn't want to see any depressing art. All I wanted to see was colour! So in an almost frantic nature I tore round the museum hunting only colourful bright art. I was particularly drawn to the colour green. I knew I was acting strange but I think being on my own and seeing so much dreary art at the Louvre had made me drawn to something different and mood lifting. I finished looking in the main gallery and decided to go up to the next level to see what there was. It was getting late and was the last hour of opening time. The floor was guarded but two arty looking individuals. I asked them if this was part of the main collection or an exhibition because I was a bit lost in the building. One of the men told me it was a paid exhibition and asked if I had my ticket. I shook my head, said no and was about to leave when he told me "Go on in, be my guest" in his marvellous French accent. All I could think of was the candlestick in Beauty and the Beast singing "Be my guest"! This totally made my day! It was also so kind of him to let me in to the Martial Raysse exhibition. I really enjoyed this exhibition as it was very bright, colourful, modern and wacky. Exactly what I was looking for. The films were odd and the sort of art that makes you think "what exactly was that all about?" "what the hell is going on? Crazy hippies" or "why are they dressed as death and goldilocks and blowing bubbles hoola hooping at the same time?". It was lost on me, but the paintings and installations were very interesting.

My last two days in Paris were busy, filled with long times waiting in lines, sweet smells and tastes and desperate times searching for the rare/hiden public toilets. I don't know why but toilets are very difficult to find in Europe. In Australia we take it for granted that there are public toilets at all train stations and public areas, and that we don't have to pay a toll for using them. Here they cost money and are very hard to come across. First world problem? Yes, but when you need to go you really need to go.

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