A Day in Paris

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On Monday I drove to Beauvais Airport just outside of Paris to pick up Viktorija, who was coming to visit for the week. Tuesday morning we took the morning train to Paris to spend the day ‘sightseeing’.

About halfway through our train ride two passengers boarded the train, a middle-aged woman and another woman in her thirties, and found seats just across from us in the same row. As they sat down I said ‘bonjour’ and they returned the greeting. I noticed one of them was wearing a Brown University sweatshirt; then a few moments later they started talking, in English, with their respective Midwesterner and New Englander accents.

Viktorija and I both looked at each other and laughed a bit; what was funny about the situation was that now I knew they were Americans but they did not know I was also. And it is a bit awkward to just say ‘hey, I’m American’ as if they should automatically want to talk with me, especially since they were engaged in conversation about something completely different.
But the longer we sat there, the more silly it became. Viktorija and I spoke in Lithuanian to each other a few times cause neither of us wanted to speak English; we did not want to speak in english cause then they would feel awkward to know that for the past ten minutes we understood every word of their conversation.

I am (and was at the time) overanalyzing the situation, but that is how I think I guess. Finally I spoke up and introduced myself and Viktorija. I asked what they were doing in France; the older woman said she’d come over from the US thirty years ago, met someone, got married and never went home. The other woman was visiting for the first woman’s daughter’s wedding; the first time she had visited her close friend in France in the thirty years she had been there. They then asked what I was doing in France. ‘Playing baseball,’ I said. ‘Oh,’ they said. ‘That’s unusual.’ And how did you two meet?, they asked. ‘I was playing baseball in Lithuania.’ Pause. ‘Huh. Okay,’ the older woman said.

Having given the short answer, I did my best to give the longer story of how I got to Lithuania and then to France.

We arrived at the station and caught the subway to the Eiffel Tower.

We met up with Jolanta, Viktorija’s eldest sister, and her friend, Brian, at the base of the Eiffel Tower. Jolanta lives in Dublin, Ireland, where she is an opera singer/vocalist; Brian (also from the States) is also a vocalist working in Dublin. They were visiting Paris to see the Opera and just happened to be there the same time that Viktorija was in town.

The four of us climbed to the top level of the Tower, which took most of the afternoon. It wasn’t the climbing that took a long time ( we did not climb, we took the elevator), it was waiting in line to go up.

Viktorija had brought with her Svyturys Alus, a Lithuanian beer, and Jolanta brought with her a Guinness from Dublin; at the top of the tower we exchanged beers and shared a drink as we took in the city.

Do you know that I’m afraid of heights?? Well I am. And I always thought that it was something that would disappear with time. I remember when I was in the French Alps with my mom's whole family when I was five years old being scared to death as we walked around on the metal structure at the summit. I remember practically crawling on my hands of knees because I was so scared. It was all I could do to refrain from doing the same on the Eiffel Tower.

After that we took a riverboat ride down the Seine, which took us past Notre Dame, the Louvre, and many other famous Parisian sites. It was a beautiful ride; one thing I was struck by was all of the cardboard/plywood shacks that had been built under the numerous bridges along the Seine. There was not a single uninhabited bridge, and most were packed with shacks. Some of the shacks had doors, windows, and/or an outdoor make-shift sink with mirror to serve as a wash room. In fact public housing for the poor/homeless is a hot social/political topic in Paris right now, citizens arguing that the government is not doing enough to provide housing for the homeless.

We said goodbye to Brian and Jolanta, who were headed off to the Opera (apparently the Baritone singing that night is Brian’s favorite singer, and the idol of most baritone opera singers), and spent the rest of the day walking around Paris.


One day in Paris is just not enough time.

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Photos

From the Tower
View of the Gardens below

Boat Ride
:)

Under the Bridges
Some of the shacks built under the bridge.

Comments

[POP]

Rest Rooms
Will, I remember you counted all the rest rooms in the Eiffel tower. So you were not lost. Have a good time!, POP

[mary and lori]

swaying
I remember how much the tower swayed when I was there...ugh. I too am afraid of heights. xoxoxo

[Pop]

Boat Dinner under bridges of Paris
Will,, Do you remember the fine meals that our whole family had on an evening in Paris?

[Jolanta]

JUHU!
Sorry for writing just now, but i really enjoyed those couple hours with U guys!!!Looking forward for end of JUne!!! And thanks for offering your jacket-lt's say it was not so warm at the top of the Eifel ;) p.s. Nice picture of U and Vik!!!.... interesting who took it :)