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Published: January 9th 2006
Charlie's Angels III
(Or is it Da Vinci Code gone wrong?)Matt:
Bonjour!
One of the more annoying things about living and working in London is working in London - it really gets in the way of the living! With just six weeks of annual leave, seven public holidays and ten “sick days”, any time away work cannot be wasted!
And so it was that just ten hours after finishing work, Ed and I lumbered into a cab at 5.30 in the morning bound for Heathrow and Paris…
The night before, we had taken my dad (who had been staying with us for a few days on the way back to Oz from Ireland) out for Indian and a couple of drinks which meant that we hadn’t had a chance to pack. This meant that our 5.30am departure was preceded by a 4.30am alarm, three presses of the snooze button and some panicked (and half-hungover) packing! Apart from taking 12 pairs of socks each (and just three pairs on underwear), I don’t think we did too bad!
After doing some duty free shopping (for DVDs, what else?), we boarded our flight with BA.
Our flight was going normally until half-way through handing out tea and coffee,
the captain came over the intercom to tell us that we were 10 minutes from landing. Immediately, my Twinings English Breakfast was yanked from me and I was ordered to buckle my seatbelt. Unfortunately, Ed - who was sitting quietly next to me listening to his iPod and reading a magazine - didn’t hear the attendant’s instructions. Suddenly, her friendly demeanour changed from being a Santa-hat wearing Florence Nightingale to peroxide-blonde-haired sergeant major! Poor Ed was ordered to fasten his seatbelt (which he maintains was already fastened), put his seat and tray up and put his iPod away… Simultaneously! Luckily I was sitting between her and Ed or there would have been an air rage incident - let’s just say she didn’t get a friendly goodbye as we left the plane!
Upon arriving at Charles de Gaulle and wandering around the terminal for about an hour in search of the way out (or ‘Sortie’ - pronounced ‘Sor-twa’, not ‘Sorty’), we found the train into town.
Marcel and Glenn (who had arrived the day before) met us at Chatalet station and we headed to our apartment. We’d left the reservations to Glenn, and he had done us proud! Our
place was perfect for four gay travellers in Paris - above the main Metro station, across the road from a shopping centre, around the corner from the Pompidou Centre and next to the main gay district! What’s more it was across the river from the Notre Dame (should we find the need to confess)…! All things considered it was totally perfect!
That afternoon we headed to the Galleries Lafayette which is the main shopping centre in Paris. Lafayette is amazing! It’s built across three city blocks, the first being for the boys, another for the girls and the third filled with home wares and food (for we poofs!). On the way back to our apartment we called in at a café which had a sign out the front that said ‘Menu You English We Speak’… We couldn’t resist testing their claim and found their English to be terrible, but the food great!
After having a quick nap, we headed down the Champs Elysees to check out the Grand Palais, a massive 100-year old glass roofed exhibition building which Glenn thought had been newly renovated. Unfortunately, it looked like the workmen may have knocked-off a couple of years too
Petit Palais
Not to be confused with Petite Palais... early, as the building (which Lonely Planet describes as a ‘glorious glass turtle’) was still encased in scaffolding. We got the gist though!
More impressive was the Petit Palais across the road. I’m not sure if its name is meant to be ironic, but the Petit Palais is actually a massive ornate structure which (from all the gold foil and naked stone sculptures) appeared to have been designed by Bohemian Drag Queens! Very kewl!
Next we then headed up the Champs Elysees to find a place to eat. It was at this point that we first encountered Marcel’s new found interest - Extreme Photography. No matter how much danger it may put him in (or how much embarrassment it causes those around him), Marcel has to get the perfect shot! And so it was that we found ourselves perched on the narrowest of traffic islands in the middle of the 10 lane Champs, watching Marcel set-up his tripod for the perfect photo of the Arc de Triomphe while trying not to get killed… It was all very exciting (and the shot wasn’t bad either!).
After finding a café and gorging ourselves silly, we walked to the Eiffel
Arc de Triomphe
Courtesy of 'Extreme Photography'! Tower to watch the new light show which runs for 10 minutes every hour after dark and makes the whole thing look like a disco ball. Very wow!
The next day (Christmas Eve) we visited the Catacombes, which lie around 20 metres below an innocent looking suburb in the south of Paris. Apparently in the late 18th Century, some bright city planner got the great idea of opening up several of the city’s graveyards to development by exhuming the corpses and storing them in disused quarries. Two centuries later, a bright (but sick) tourism operator got the great idea of opening up the quarries to visitors!
The corpses are stored in large caverns within the quarry. In true testament to 18th Century engineering, the corpses are laid neatly behind retaining walls made of (you guessed it) stacked skulls! Being Paris, the skulls are stacked artfully in different designs - which makes it all like a really macabre Louvre!
Unfortunately, you can’t take photos inside the Catacombes out of respect for the dead. This however did not stop our resident Extreme Photographer who got several great shots by resting his camera on top of any flat topped skull!
Catacombes
Creepy, aye? That afternoon we headed back to Galleries Lafayette for some last minute pre-Christmas shopping. On the way there, the arches of my feet started hurting, and so called into a Pharmacy and bought gel inlays for my shoes. I spent the rest of the days jumping up and down trying to burst them - without success!
Later on, we met up with a bunch of Marcel’s friends for dinner. After a quick visit to Banana Bar - a gay bar across the road from our hotel with go-go boys and Christmas decorations a la Liberace - we headed to a café and settled in for a great night with great company.
After dinner, I decided that being Christmas, and being in Paris, I wanted to go to Midnight Mass at the Notre Dame and (much to his horror) I wanted Ed to come with me. We arrived just after the stroke of Midnight and were greeted by the bells going berserk and a crowd of thousands… Eventually though, after pushing in front of a busload of old Italian woman, I managed to get in and it was totally magic!
And so it was Christmas! After waking
Ed
(and the bodies of six million Parisians) up, the four of us sat around opening pressies before setting out for the Eiffel Tower. With my arches now fully supported by my new indestructible gel inlays, I convinced my fellow travellers to save the eight euros and climb the tower (well, half of it) by foot. The views (as well as the lack of queues) made it well worth it!
After reaching the bottom, we limped across the Seine, dodging a bunch of Falun Gong protestors and a scary looking group of Japanese Tourists and found a cute café for Christmas lunch a few bottles of great French wine. Three hours later we staggered out and headed for the Ferris Wheel at the end of the Champs Elysees before heading home to continue the merriment.
It was on the way home that the inevitable happened. I was walking gently along when suddenly, without warning, one of my gel inlays burst! I guess all the jumping and climbing up towers finally got the better of them… I ended up squelching all the way home…
For Boxing Day we booked a trip to Normandy and Mont Saint Michel on the English Channel, around four hours west of
Paris. Our guide was the sweet little French woman who spoke perfect English, except that she pronounced beach, ‘bitch’… It was really funny for the few English-speaking travellers every time she described the beauty of 'French Bitches’!
Joining the four of us sinners on the tour was a woman that looked like Rose Porteous, an Italian who was dressed in a coat that looked like it was made from owls (Ed kept hooting whenever he saw her - very hilarious!), a newlywed Australian couple that looked as if they were Mormon and about fifty Japanese tourists... Looking around our bus, I felt as if I was in a Benetton ad!
Mont Saint Michel is amazing. Put simply, it’s a giant granite rock that rises steeply from the middle of a bay on the border or Normandy and the neighbouring region of Brittany. Clutching to the side of the rock is a village of ramshackle houses that back onto near vertical laneways. On top of the island is a huge gothic abbey that dates from the 8th Century. It’s kinda like Harry Potter meets Labyrinth!
That night we headed to Les Marais, the gay district neighbouring our apartment.
Looking rested and relaxed...
...At the bottom of the Eiffel tower We ended up finding a funky bar called the Open Café and settling in for a quiet drink.
Several very strong cocktails later, we decided to take the party up a notch and moved on to a dingy little club which was pretty forgettable. Forgettable that is, apart from the gents toilet which I’m guessing (and half-hoping) was the worst in Paris. The loo, which was straight off the dance floor, was more like a broom closet with a shower drain in the middle of the floor. To use it properly required a strong nose, a little prayer and really great aim (particularly because there was no light). My poor shoes (who had barely recovered from the gel inlay incident) didn’t know what hit them…
Another couple of drinks later (and upon the recommendation of a hairy Parisian who I met at the bar), we decided to take the night up a further notch and checked out Le Raidd Bar… I’d love to tell you the rest of the story, but alas my mother is reading too!
The following day, Marcel and Glenn left us to continue their trip to Denmark and Japan. Upon leaving, we reflected
Me
Half-way up (and not so rested or relaxed) that they were amongst the easiest people to travel with - we had a really great time staying with them, and hope they will both be back soon to continue to adventure (hint hint, boys)…
Later that day Ed and I went to Versailles, the enormous palace built by Louis XIV in the 17th Century. The place was totally amazing - filled with artworks that I remember seeing in high school textbooks and surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens that were dusted with snow. It was definitely a Kodak moment!
Anyways - hope you all had a great Christmas and New Years. Make sure you keep all the emails and updates coming…!
PS. We have finally got our broadband connection set up at home. For those of you that are set up on MSN Messenger, our email address is tardree@optusnet.com.au - be sure to add us to your contact listing!
PPS. Hi mum!
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Jo
non-member comment
Elaine, please close your eyes while Matt finishes the story!!