C'est finis

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Geo: 48.8566, 2.35097

We needed to go pick up our tickets for the final stage, so headed generally up the Champs Elysees – or rather, the park off to the side of it, as the street itself was pretty well closed with preparations. We found a temporary vendor, and picked up (say it with me) a pain au chocolat & café, which we ate as we continued to walk. We made note of the fact that even this early – maybe 9:30 am or so—there were people camped out for a good spot on the barrier. We were pretty glad that we'd paid to not have to spend a precious day in Paris doing this.

We did find the right hotel, and – without any checking of ID – were given our tickets. Then the rest of the day was ours. Since we had made the mistake of not checking opening hours/days for the Musee d'Orsay when we were here last time, and found it closed on a Monday, we took it in while it was open. Thinking ahead, and seeing the long line for tickets, we popped 'round the corner to find a Coke and something snackish (the French version of a hot dog, it turned out) to tide us over til lunch. About as soon as we got into line, they opened up a second line, ushering us in with a few others in front of us, so we chugged our Cokes *brap* and wolfed down the dog. Checked the backpack into the coatroom (mandatory) and were on our way. We had the Rick Steves audio tour of the Orsay on the iPhone, so we listened to that, and let it guide us through some key pieces of the museum. That was a really nice way to see it, rather than wandering aimlessly, trying to look at every piece. After a couple of hours, we'd seen what we needed to see, and went to find some lunch. Having been inspired by a display in the Orsay on the construction of and sets from the Opera , we checked on the hours, and decided to go visit it.

What a beautiful theatre! Though I would really like to have had a tour of the backstage area, it was just a wander-around-and-see-what-we-have-for-you day. And of course we couldn't help but draw comparisons to the "Phantom of the Opera", since that was set in this building. “Lush” and “posh” are the 2 terms that come to mind when looking back on this….

A quick stop in the hotel to swap out gear (and rinse the humidity and sweat off), then we were off to the Event Of The Day. We spotted a Paul (chain of boulangeries with which we'd become acquainted) and grabbed a couple of sandwiches and a pretzel to take with us. We knew that we needed to be on the south-ish side of the Champs Elysees, and that it would be tricky to find a place to cross over (since we were coming from the north-ish side of things). What we didn't know is that we'd have to backtrack up the Champs Elysees about a mile, before getting to a Metro station where we could cross under, to get to where we needed to be. Sigh. But we did, and made our way past a couple of checkpoints where they were making sure you had your pretty invitation.

And then we got to The Line. Or rather, the Line Area. There were grandstands set up all along the south-ish side of the Champs Elysees, with different sections, named things like “Grand Palais”, “Clemenceau” and “Triomphe”. What this translated to was “Pretty near the finish line”, “Next to the people who are near the finish line” and “On the street, you'll see the cyclists come by, but at least you didn't have to wait here all day to get a spot where you can see something”.

We had to find the line for the section that we were in, which -- sadly – seemed to be the longest line. We added ourselves to the queue, and waited. It was probably only about 20-30 minutes, but the prospect of the free cold drinks just on the other side made it seem longer. Eventually, we were allowed our turn to exchange our invitation for a purple fabric wristband (fabric? Oooh…..fancy!).

Then we realized that the other line we'd been seeing was the line for drinks. Oof. We picked out seats in the section for our tour operator (Custom Getaways) from what was left – it was starting to fill up. Dejo guarded them, while I went back to get us some cold (included-with-the-price-of-the-ticket) drinks.

Half an hour later, I returned with those precious libations in my hand – 2 bottles of Vittel, and 2 Cokes. There weren't any vendors within the stands, so it was either stand in line for the free ones, or leave the area to go in search of a vendor where the unwashed masses were waiting their turn to buy cold drinks.

The lovely thing about our seats – and don't think this was a coincidence – was the proximity to the Jumbotron across the street, where they were showing live coverage of the race in progress. And as the riders began the race from Versailles (about 5:30 pm), there was a flyover at the Champs Elysees by the French Air Force. So we got to see that event on both ends of the race – seemed like a nice way to bookend everything.

The caravan came through soon, but to our great dismay, they weren't throwing out any schwag on the Champs Elysees. They were therefore having a little tougher time of getting the crowd to cheer them on. It didn't seem to matter to them, though. They were having a great time, entertaining themselves. And this time, even the trucks that put up and take down the barriers all along the route got to participate, weaving their trucks as far across the street as they could. We cheered for them, because we had seen firsthand how much work they do, and for how little recognition.

The stands were really, really packed soon. I think there may have either been a situation of overselling, or people taking seats in the wrong part of their section. The Grand Palais seats were one of the largest sections, with seats being designated for this tour company, and another (further from the finish line) area for various sponsors and their guests. Whatever the cause, finding 2 seats together was increasingly difficult, and people were increasingly covetous of any open seat. So we made sure we always had one of us there to guard ours.

As the riders approached, the excitement grew. We could see on the TV the various landmarks that told us they were near, and the low churn of the helicopters added to the anticipation. Then they made their first pass down the Champs Elysees, and we all stood and cheered them accordingly. Then we sat (with some prompting by angry Aussie mothers – a familiar theme), until they came by the other direction.

Repeat 9 times.

And though the overall race winner had already been determined in the previous stages (Chris Froome had a healthy 5 minutes on the next closest competitor), there actually was a sprint for the finish, as there's some pretty good prize money on the line for the stage win. It was a really great sense of excitement in the stands as we saw the finish (not in person – not quite close enough to see the finish line), but on the TV in front of us.

Then the podium presentations began, which we were also able to see quite clearly on the TV. The organizers had put together a REALLY cool “environmental projection” (thanks, Cheryl) on the Arc de Triomphe. They had a different segment for each of the 4 jersey presentations (making it look all bumpy for the King of the Mountains jersey, lots of green for the sprinters jersey, etc). Way cool. And if we leaned over and looked way down to the left, we could see a corner of the Arc in person, to confirm that what we were seeing on TV was, in fact, going on just a kilometer from us.

The only thing we were disappointed in was the lack of to-do over past TdF finishers/winners. It was our understanding that any cyclists who had ever completed the Tour were invited for the final ceremony, and we expected maybe something like a massed bands in the piping world. But while they did have Miguel Indurain, Eddy Merckx and Greg Lemond on the podium, there wasn't much fanfare otherwise.

After the presentation, we wanted to see the Arc projection for ourselves (they had kept it looping for a while), so we hopped the barrier (very much against everything I've been taught about following the rules) and headed up the Champs Elysees with everyone else. Lemme tell you – that's a long street. And it's longer still when you're dodging other people, meandering the other direction. But we did make it up to the Arc, and got to watch the projection for about 10 minutes before they finally turned it off. I suppose they were ready to start tearing down, seeing as it was almost midnight and all.

As it was Paris in July, and an unseasonably warm one at hat, we were craving a cold Coke. We spotted a McDonald's, and decided to pop in for a drink. Ha! Us, and several hundred of our good friends. After about 5 minutes in line, we decided we weren't that thirsty after all, and headed on down the road. Dejo spotted another McD open (on a Sunday night – this MUST be a special occasion). This was far less crowded, though they were either out of, or never had any ice. Oh, well. It was a Coke, and it was lower than room temperature.

We caught the Metro back to the St. Augustine station, and hoofed it the couple of blocks back to the hotel. As we were deciding what time to get up, so as to get to Versailles in the morning…….wait……today's Sunday……making tomorrow Monday….Are they even….lemme look….oh, for Pete' sake.

Closed on Monday.

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Photos

Clock of the Musee d' Orsay (from inside)
One of the few places you can use your camera in the museum

New ceiling in the Opera
Circa 1964. The old one is still underneath.