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Published: November 29th 2007
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The game is called “les boulle”; Americans may know it as bacci ball. The players throw one small ball the size of a ping-pong about 20-30 feet, then with the bigger balls (usually shiny metal); They try to land their big ball next to the small one. The other players try to get their own close to the little, and also they try to knock their opponents’ balls farther away from the small one. Who ever has their big ball closest to the small one at the end of the game wins. It is usually played by elder men on the beach in Speedos. Not on this fine cold November afternoon, however.
Two weekends ago, we took the Eurostar train from the newly re-opened St. Pancras train station to Paris. The Eurostar train travels at 186 mph and takes 2 hours and 11 minutes to get to Paris. Our coach was very quiet. If somebody had a conversation on her cell phone, the entire coach could hear. On the way to the food bar, it was a different scene. People yelled back and forth, laughing and joking, across the coach; others were sprawled out in the aisle way. Beer and
wine and little plastic cups covered the tables. Eurostar was a party. Back in our coach, Felicia schooled Jason on some French phrases that would assist us in our weekend endeavours. Par exemple: “S’il vous plait” “Merci beaucoup” and “Je m’appelle Jason”.
Unfortunately for us, French transit workers are on strike again (Nothing to do with Jason's lack of French language skills). Something about the government wanting to provide French workers the same retirement benefits and pay that the next best compensated transit workers in the world (the Germans) receive and make the French work longer. Basically, the government views the transit workers as getting paid too much to do too little. The workers view the government as wanting to cut their pay and increase their hours. So the workers stay home. And we did not.
Our hotel was 15 miles south of Paris, next to an RER train station. Which would have been great, but the RER train didn’t run, due to the strike. Our taxi from the train station to our hotel cost approximately $80.
On Saturday, we asked the hotel manager the best way to get to Paris. “Do you have a car?” he
asked in heavily accented English. We shook our heads. “Well, there is the bus, but it comes, ah, very, infrequently.” He called a taxi to take us to Paris. The cab driver was very nice. As we got into the car, he said something that I took to mean, “where in Paris do you want to go?”
“To the Eiffel Tower!” we cried.
He said, “oh, tour de ef-féll” and then he made a tower shape using his hands and saying “zhuuu-ut.” On the way to the Tour Eiffel, the driver pointed out many of the attractions and a pretty detailed history, all in French. The taxi only cost $45 to get to Tour Eiffel.
At Tour Eiffel, we avoided the pickpockets and the panhandlers and hopped onto a riverboat tour of Paris. We purchased two glasses of champagne, and climbed up to the top deck to enjoy the sites, the cold, the beauty, and the wind of Paris. The loudspeaker system played the Paris music that you hear in any Paris travel advertisement and described each of the sites in English, Spanish, and French. “On your left is the new bridge, the oldest bridge in Paris…
l'Arc de Triomphe
Only French troops march through this arch after victorious battles, except for when the Germans did “le pont le plus ancien à Paris est sur votre gauche, il s'appelle le pont neuf.” Jason is sure that he heard this statement (the English part), but it may have been lost in translation.
The river tour provided us with great views of all of Paris’ beautiful bridges, Le pont d’Iéna, Le pont Alexandre III, and Le pont Louis Philipe. We also saw France’s parliament, the Place de la Concord, the Louvre, Notre Dame, Hotel De Ville, and of course, Tour Eiffel.
It was time to get our land legs back, so we walked through the Place du Trocadero and arrived at l’Arc de Triomphe on the Champs-Elysées. After viewing this beautiful monument to France’s military might, we viewed the tomb of the unknown soldier, where an unwavering flame flickered in the light autumn breeze. We then walked down the road of excess, American tourist transaction, of the street called Champs-Elysées. Or Fifth Avenue.
We decided to see how the richer half lived and walked into the Louis Vuitton store. We saw $150 coin purses, $1300 sunglasses, and a $40,000 jewellery box. Louis Vuitton didn’t sell anything for less than $120. Needless to say, we didn’t
buy anything. Felicia thought we should ask for Louis Vuitton shopping sack for her sister-in-law. Jason was worried that they would kick us out for breaking the bourgeoisie-only rule.
The Place de la Concorde sits at the opposite end of l’Arc de Triomphe. In this square (actually a rectangle), the Parisians have erected an Egyptian obelisk stolen from the Temple of Luxor, and provided two beautiful fountains to provide the obelisk with company. From there, we crossed the Seine back to the left bank, found some cafés, some small shops, and streets that led back to Tour Eiffel.
Before we climbed the Tour Eiffel, we sampled some hot crepes from a street vendor. Jason savoured his ham and cheese crepe, while Felicia had cherry preserves on hers.
We climbed the Tour Eiffel to the second floor. We only had to climb 115 meters to get to the second floor, a less than half the way to the top. The second floor has great views of Paris, which become better as day turned to night. We shared a pizza and a small bottle of wine, before taking the elevator to the top. As the lift hurtled up to
Crepe anyone?
mmmmm... jambon et fromage crepe the top of the Tower, higher and higher, less and less steel, Felicia became more and more nervous. Once we were up there, the view was so breathtaking it was easy to forget the distance to the bottom.
Afterwards, we wandered through the Left Bank and found a French restaurant and had some good, but inexpensive French foodand wine. This weekend was also the unveiling of the 2007 Beaujolais. (Incidentally, Beaujolais is meant to be drunk within a couple of months to a year after fermentation). Beaujolais was plentiful wherever we went, and at un bon prix. The night was capped off when our taxi driver drove us back to our hotel as if he was driving the in the Monte Carlo Grand Prix. Our fare was merely $40.
On Sunday morning, our hotel attendant asked us if we would like to order another taxi to Paris. Apparently taxis are even rarer on Sunday mornings; he suggested that we order a cab an hour in advance.
Luckily, our cab driver was the same person who picked us up the day before (he must have a good relationship with this hotel). We told him he wanted to go
to Gare d’Nord (the train station), and he confirmed where we were going by folding his fingers as if they were a train and making train noises. Again, he provided us with detailed history of the Right Bank, the Bastille, and several statues. At the Bastille, Jason said “l’revolucion, no?” Again, lost in translation, as a look of confusion crossed both the cab driver's and Jason's faces.
After leaving our luggage in a locker, we headed off to Sacre Coeur, a large Romano-Byzantine style (a nice break from the Gothic style that we have seen all over the UK) cathedral on a hill. Paris was colder than ever on this day. And it was windy. And it was foggy.
After checking out the foggy view, and admiring Sacre Coeur’s beauty, we headed to Porte de Clignacourt, a flea market that was described as a haven for lovers of antiques, second hand goods and retro fashion. We found some of these things, but mostly made for tourist cheap goods.
Afterwards, we got lost on Paris’s streets, walked briskly past Pigalle (known to American soldiers as Pig Alley) and Moulin Rouge as we rushed to catch our train that
Sacre Couer
the sky really did look this grey - just like Seattle in the winter, only colder would rush us back to our warm flat in Reading.
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Tiffany
non-member comment
uh....
I can't believe you didn't get me the Louis Vuitton shopping bag...authentic from Paris...that would have been soooo cool! Paris looked breath taking! I really gotta go there someday. (But not until I can actually get those damn sunglasses).