Paris Part 1: The Tourist

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Perhaps you have experienced this before. It is the perfect summer afternoon, you have some errands to run, so you hop in the car, crank up the tunes (I mean blast the tunes), roll down the windows, put your shades on and enjoy the drive to wherever you are going. Arriving at your destination, you park and turn off the car, still singing, and feeling like a million bucks. Going about your business, you are as happy as a clam.

As time progresses you begin to forget about the state that you left your car stereo in. It is time to get into the car, but boy are you in for a surprise... As you start up the car you are greeted by the deafening noises of blaring speakers that your ears aren't adjusted to yet. Scared merde-less, you are stunned and it takes a second for your mind to register what is happening around you. Know the feeling? Well, that is how I felt when I got off the train at Montparnasse last Thursday afternoon. For the first second, I was surprised, stunned, frozen.

Had all of France decided that this was the best day, out of all 366 (this year was a leap year) days of the year to come to Paris? Perhaps that was the case. It was insanity. There had to be at least five representatives of every demographic in the world within eyesight. Well, realistically that isn't true, but you get the point. But one demographic surely caught my eye. That of the Parisian women, the coveted, the mysterious, and the sexy. Perhaps this is how the gold miners in 49' felt! These women shown through the busy streets like a glimmering nugget of gold. Literally, the sun was reflecting off of their diamond necklaces and causing innocent bystanders to go blind. But why were there so many of these gorgeous woman out on this day? The thought rushed through my head, that maybe they were all in Paris this weekend because I was in town. Oh, wait, I was just a student from the Mid-West and my social status was about the same as Russian coal-miner compared to the exuberant livelihoods of these prominent young ladies. If you were to put a price tag on all of my worldly possessions, it would cost about the same as the pair of stylish designer shoes they were wearing. As these women walked by, I was put in my place. They would strut by trying to stab holes, with their fancy high heels, into the sidewalks (why I do not know) with each stride, accompanied by five shopping bags in one hand, a slim cigarette delicately placed between two fingers in the other, all the while keeping a stone cold face that seemed to be screaming "blah." Oh France, you never seem to amaze me. But the real reason there were so many of these suave women in Paris was because of the annual summer sale.

There are just two time blocks when stores are allowed to place their clothing items for discount. One is in winter and the other in the summer. Well, the summer sales started the day before I got to Paris. Right, just my luck. At least it made my long, hot walk to my hotel more ascetically appealing.

Finally making it to my hotel, I caught my traveling company as they were leaving a note at the front desk for me. Thank goodness they hadn't left, finding them would have been nearly impossible, with the huge crowds and the confusing streets of the Latin Quarter. Cindy and Claire, my aunt and cousin, had been in Germany for a couple weeks and were spending a few days in Paris, before they went back to the States. Some time with family was just what I needed after going through the French wringer.

Over dinner we caught up on the past year of our lives, and then went on a stroll over to the Tuileries soaking in the atmosphere. What better way to catch up then to have a great meal at a cafe in Paris, then walk through its beautiful gardens? But the next day was quickly approaching and sleep was calling, so we headed for bed.

Even though I had just arrived in Paris, we were about to head out of its city walls. The busy city blur continued as we shot right back out to the countryside on Friday morning. We were going on a tour of the gardens that Monet has made so infamous. To my delight, this was not just any tour, but a bike tour. Arriving in Vernon by train, our tour group went throughout the small town to buy tasty fresh food for a picnic. Cindy, Claire and I purchased a nice variety of fresh fruit, bread, and meats, plus some cheese (that was probably fresh, but didn't smell like it), and some wine. Full and happy, we made the three-mile trek to Giverny. A walk in the park compared to my previous weekend where my tour-de-France (Loire valley series), had left my butt a bit sore. Our route from Vernon to Giverny was the same that Monet took so many times before. But he made the trip by train, not on 21st century, and world's most comfortable bike. None-the-less, the ride was beautiful and charming.

As the garden approached, a soft buzzing could be heard. Crap, a bee was flying around my head or something. However, the closer we got, the louder the buzzing became. Turning the final corner, we discovered the source of buzzing. Monet's garden did not look like his paintings, well it did, but if he were to be painting on this day, he would need to paint thousands of tourists jostling through the narrow paths that surround the lake, and vegetation. Tourist after tourist, school groups after school group, after a few more tourists. This place was packed; it was over flowing with people trying to squeeze through the crowd to get a good picture of the postcard garden. Was I missing something? I thought Monet was a painter, not a rock-n-roll god. Who knew a rebel painter of his time, could rummage up such a crowd!

All I can say is thank goodness Cindy, Claire, and I am tall. It was simple for us just to stand over the other tourists and snap a quick photo unimpaired of other cameras and peering eyes. After we had seen enough of the gardens we trudged through the oncoming crowds and headed for the exit, to get our first gasp of fresh air in over an hour. If Giverny was this crowded... what kind of demon had been unleashed in Paris? Surely, it wasn't possible for a place to become even more crowded. Or could it?

Remember the deafening car stereo still blaring away? Well, once you have overcome the shocked state of blaring music, your mind starts to process information clearer. In order to make this dreadfully loud noise go away, the brain sends messages through your body to reach out your arm and turn the volume knob to the left before you go completely deaf. Reaching your arm out to turn the knob to the left, there is a slip up somewhere in the process. You turn the knob the wrong way its maximum volume. You know what I am talking about. This is exactly what happened upon returning to Paris... on a Friday night... in the summer... on the first weekend of summer sales. I thought the day before was busy! But nothing could have prepared me for this, I felt like a sardine waiting to be devoured by a French mouth. The three of us were soon swept up with the wave of crowds and next thing I knew we were back to the hotel, thankfully all in one piece.

That night we decided to do granddaddy of all touristy things in Paris... The Seine river night cruise. Here we understood why it was called the City of Lights. We passed by all of the major sights, Notre Dame, the Louvre, Place de la Concorde Musee d'Orsay, le Grand Palais and a thousand other beautifully restored buildings and under the famous bridges crossing the Seine. Each building had the perfect lighting from a million light bulbs strategically placed to highlight all of the spectacular architectural designs. Then there was the one and only Eiffel Tower. As strange of a...structure it is, the light show that takes place on the hour is truly stunning and lights up the Paris skyline.

While our eyes were taking in all of the pleasures, our ears were suffering. A young woman on the microphone was giving brief history lessons on each of the important buildings. But even if one of the 500 rubberneckers on the boat wanted to listen, they wouldn't be able to understand the guides unenthusiastic, rehearsed lecture, that was a strange mix of Angelo-French that not even a language professor could decipher. Besides the grand lecturer with marbles in her mouth, Paris's sheer mystic beauty made this ride one we would never forget.

Spending two days with Claire and Cindy wonderful. Spending time with family is always a pleasure, but when it is in an exotic place like Paris, it only makes the experience better. Saturday was the day for their departure. This left me with a day and a half to explore, to get lost, to go places I probably shouldn't be, and try and find a new side of Paris.

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Photos

Busy Streets of the Latin Quarter
A rollerblading gang of a couple hundred came flying down the road with banners and flags. The people of France love to protest, maybe this sportsmen were protesting the lack of political pull rollerbladers had...or something like that.

My lap of luxury!
Rooms in Paris are small so getting a roll away bed was like trying to fit a circle into a square. But the floor, a pillow, and some blankets are all I need!

Claire and I biking away
The pleasant ride to Giverny

The Gardens...
With loads of people in the background

Pictures
At a few places you had to wait in line to take a photo... Can't say that has happened to me before.

School groups
Talk about a headache... They were adorable though.

Family
Cindy, Claire and I

Back side of Notre Dame..
as the sun was getting lower and lower.

A walking bridge
on a beautiful evening

The Eiffel Tower
I feel bad for the guy who has to replace the light bulbs on this bad boy.