Wednesday in Paris

I woke up at 5 a.m. to get showered and ready for our day trip to Paris. We had cereal and juice for breakfast in the room and then got the room ready to be cleaned. Think Apartments clean once every week, and we had been there since last Tuesday. We had used up our toilet paper supply (including the stuff I’d swiped from the Lord Jim hotel), and hoped they would restock our bathroom as well. While I was under the kitchen sink getting the bag out for our recycling, I discovered a leak. The bag sat in a shallow puddle of soapy water; remnants from our washing that morning. I planned on mentioning it as we left.

Kat looked nice in her Francey shirt that was all glittery and colorful. I was wearing my Jagiellionian University t-shirt I had bought in Krakow, Poland, when my bags hadn’t arrived yet and I was out of clothes. I was hoping that I would be mistaken for Polish instead of American while in France. We gathered our stuff for the trip, and it looked like a lot. We were bringing books for the train, my two guidebooks, nice clothes and shoes in case we went to dinner somewhere elegant, candy, water, cameras, and other essentials. Kat offered to bring her bag along to help carry the load, but I stubbornly insisted on carrying it all in my backpack. That was a decision I came to regret by the end of the day.

Downstairs the desk clerk sounded unimpressed when I described our plumbing problems and the lack of toilet paper. He said the room would get cleaned, but we needed to buy our own bathroom supplies. We decided to deal with that on our way back that evening.

We walked down to the tube and took the Piccadilly line to St. Pancras station. We got to the station with plenty of time before our departure time. Kat was in the mood for a chai latte, so we cruised the station looking for a café that would serve one. Oddly enough, the only place that had it was Starbucks. We felt a bit funny going there. Kat ordered the biggest size, thinking she’d have time to sip it on the train. I got a small Americano for myself. With drinks in hand, we went in search of our platform. That’s when it dawned on us that this was an international trip and we would have to go through a security checkpoint. We could see another couple on the other side of the ticketing barriers finishing their drinks before getting going through security and determined that we would have to do the same. Poor Kat. She had to guzzle an entire 20oz hot drink before we could go on. She broke into a sweat near the end.

I was glad Kat had reminded me to bring my passport before leaving the apartment. We got our entry to France stamps and made it through security just fine. On the other side we found more coffee shops. Oh well. I went ahead and got some euros for our trip and divided them up between the two of us. Rick Steves had me paranoid about being pick-pocketed. We got on the train and found our seats. I had booked Leisure Class tickets that turned out to be pretty swanky. Kat and I sat across from each other alone at a small table. I brought out my guidebooks and our map of Paris and sat down to some serious planning. We had a very pleasant attendant in our coach who brought us tea and breakfast. We couldn’t tell if he was gay, French, or both. He noticed I was hard at work planning our visit and offered to help by recommending some places to stay and some sites to see, but I explained that we were only there for the day and had a pretty tight schedule. I think most people were surprised to hear we were trying to do Paris in just a day. Kat made sure to let people know we were on our honeymoon so we would get the extra special treatment, since it seemed to have worked for us well so far. She got out our French phrasebook and started practicing. She said she was pretty nervous about going somewhere without knowing the language. I finished planning our itinerary and transferring relevant information from the guidebooks to the map. I wasn’t very impressed with Rick Steves’ day trip itinerary. It wasn’t very efficient and it relied too much on the Metro and taxis to get from site to site.

The trip was little over 2 hours. We left the station around 7:30 and arrived just before 11:00 with an hour time change. We arrived well fed, rested and in good humor. I had gotten a little motion sick from doing so much reading along the way, but that feeling had worn off. Due to my paranoia of being robbed, I had planned our trip out without using the Metro. My plan had us taking a taxi from the Gare du Nord (our train station) directly to the Eiffel tower and then continuing our walking tour from there, which would have us gradually work our way back toward the station and end at Notre Dame. I had no idea how long it would take us, but I had a working watch and I knew what time we needed to be back to catch our return train. Our train boarded at 8:45 p.m., so I figured we should look for a taxi back to the station by 8. That gave us 9 hours to wander around Paris and take in the sites. I wasn’t sure if they would feed us dinner on the train home, but I was already doubting that we’d have time to do both lunch and dinner in Paris.

My bag was feeling heavy already and I was done with my guidebooks and the reading books. I thought maybe I could find a locker at the train station to leave things behind, but after looking for a few minutes we gave up on that idea. A desperate looking woman approached us, asked if we spoke English, and then shoved a handwritten letter in our faces. The letter outlined a sob story of how she had been trapped in France for 8 months and probably went on to beg for money. I heartlessly waved her away; suspicious that it was simply a rouse. We followed signs outside to the taxi area and waited in a short line for one. Our driver was surprised we didn’t have any bags other than my backpack and then snorted when we said to take us straight to the Eiffel tower. I followed along as best I could on the map as he drove us there. We caught our first glimpse of the Eiffel tower as we neared the river Seine. That’s how we knew we were in Paris.

The day was sunny and windy. The crowds were huge underneath the Eiffel tower and we weaved through them on our way to the back of the line for tickets and elevators. An army of illegal souvenir salesmen worked the queue and the crowds. They carried their cheap miniature towers and toys threaded through metal rings or in bags. Many of them had special blankets on which to display their crap that would quickly turn into bags by using drawstrings attached to the corners. I got to see how quickly they could pack up and run away when a policeman on a bicycle came riding through. The salesmen scattered like a flock of crows, only to quickly return as soon as the police were out of sight. I was amazed when I saw people actually buying the stuff. We were approached yet again by more desperate looking women with letters in English describing the same sob story we heard back at the train station. I imagined a network of these women and men, all recent immigrants, being put to work fleecing the tourist crowds in return for food and shelter until they found permanent lodging and work. It seemed like a grim existence, and it was highly annoying. Random people kept cutting through the line around us and I would spin my body around to keep my backpack away from imagined pickpockets, but I only succeeded in clobbering Kat several times with it. She stood behind me to keep an eye on things and when she got bored waiting in line she started to mess with the buckles and straps on my backpack. That freaked me out, because I kept thinking someone was trying to get in it.

After about an hour in line, we finally got our tickets and moved on to wait for the elevators. A monitor above the ticket counter kept warning that the summit was intermittently closed due to crowding. They charged more than double the price of getting to the mid-point platform to get to the summit. Seeing as how we had already spent a precious hour of our time to get a ticket and that longer waits were guaranteed to get to the top, I opted for the cheaper tickets. We packed into the double-decker elevator and rode it to the middle platform.

We took time enough to shoot pictures from the four sides of the tower and look out over the city for a bit before we decided to move on. We took time to use the bathroom on the tower. There was a line, and a pushy family shoved their child in front of everyone because she was going to pee her pants. The bathroom attendant wouldn’t let her in right away, though.

We didn’t wait for the elevators down; instead we ran down the stairs. We headed to our next stop, Palais de Chaillot, across the river where I was informed the best views of the Eiffel tower could be found. We crossed the Pont d’Iena, the first of many bridges we crossed over the Seine. My planned route had us crisscrossing the river at 5 different points. We got to the Palais and turned around to get our shots of the tower. We took turns setting up our classic eating points of interest shots and then got a nearby woman to take our picture after Kat took hers. It was already 1:00, and we were both getting hungry for lunch. We discussed heading straight for food and skipping the Arc de Triomphe, but Kat said she could hold out a little longer.

We walked down Avenue Kleber toward the Arc de Triomphe. Due to the trees lining the avenue, we couldn’t see the Arc until we were almost on top of it. Along the way I took pictures of food in the shop windows. I think my stomach was trying to tell me something. Once we reached the massive roundabout in which the Arc stood, we turned down the Avenue des Champs Elysees and headed toward the Musee du Louvre. I made sure to run out into the street to get some unobstructed pictures of the Arc de Triomphe first.

We had a nice long stroll down the Champs Elysees, which was busy with foot traffic and lined with shops and cafes that just made us hungrier. We had made up our minds that we would eat somewhere near Napoleon’s tomb on the other side of the river. It took us until 2:00 to get to the next bridge, Pont des Invalides. Along the way we passed another museum, the Grand Palais, which appeared to be housing a dinosaur exhibit.

Once across the second bridge, we went in search of food. I had written down some suggestions from my books that were in this area near Rue Cler. We looked at each in turn, trying to decipher the menus and not being able to make up our minds. We were both tired and hungry. We eventually found a sidewalk café near the Ecole Militaire called Comptier du Sept and sat down. We ordered a pot of wine to share and then looked at the menu. Luckily, the menu had English descriptions next to the items. We wanted to eat a fairly large lunch because it was looking like we wouldn’t have time for a nice dinner as well. Kat chose the duck and I ordered chicken in cream and mushroom sauce. They were both good choices, but I think Kat liked mine better because she kept stealing sauce from my plate. Our experience was great, and better than some of our neighbors who had a river of water dumped on them from the awning overhead. Kat was excited to use some of her French she had learned. She practiced her phrases out loud until she got self-conscious that the other customers might think she was strange repeating the same things over and over again. With some wine in her she boldly asked for the check and thanked them for a delicious meal. She’s so great.

We finished lunch around 3:30 had a short walk to the Hotel des Invalides and Napoleon’s Tomb. Napoleon’s tomb was inside a beautiful building right in the center of the site. The inside had wonderful painted ceilings and sculptures in side chapels. The center of the room was open to the lower floor with the actual tomb you could look down on. We looked all around and took plenty of pictures. By the time we left it was close to 4:30 and the sewer tour was closing at 5. We opted to pass it by and headed back across the river.

This time we crossed at the Pont de la Concorde that led to a similarly named square containing the Obelisque. I got a neat look back down the Champs Elysees all the way back to the Arc de Triomphe. I was impressed by the long staged views in Paris that obviously only came about by careful planning. It differed greatly from the limited views and chaotic layout of London. It was now 5 o’clock and we needed to pick up the pace. Kat had marked a place on our map nearby where Angelina’s was supposed to be. She had heard Bob rave about the hot chocolate there, so we thought it would be nice to check it out. We wandered along Rue de Rivoli until we found it. There was a line out the door when we got there. We stood in line until we could see in the door. I noticed that they all appeared to be waiting for a table and that the confections counter wasn’t busy at all so I left Kat to stand in line while I pushed my way up to the counter and ordered a hot chocolate to go. Kat saw that I got through the line so came up to join me. She looked around the shop and found some hot chocolate mix to take home with us. We paid for our items and then continued on our way to the Louvre through the Jardin des Tuileries.

It was already 5:30 by the time we got to the Louvre. We needed to get in, see as much as we could in an hour and then move on to see Notre Dame and old town Paris before catching a taxi back to the station. We waited in a fast moving line to get inside the glass pyramid and go through the security check. We noticed a number of signs saying “no cameras” on the way in. We bought our tickets from a machine once we got inside and then picked up a map. We decided to head for Mona Lisa straight away and plotted out a course. It turned out we really didn’t need to because there were signs at every intersection pointing to the most popular works of art. Along the way we started to notice that no one seemed to pay heed to the “no photos” rule. We saw flashes going off everywhere. People were taking pictures with their phones, cameras, and camcorders. We were appalled. It was even worse in the room with Mona Lisa. A huge crowd was gathered in front of her and the camera flashes were almost constant. It was hard to appreciate the artwork with so many irresponsible jerks around us. There were museum employees around, but they seemed unable or unwilling to do anything about it. It made me sick to my stomach to see people so brazenly disrespectful. I love taking pictures of my travels, but when it comes to the preservation of artwork, I respect the curators’ wishes. The least these folks could do is turn off the flash on their cameras, but I suspect that most of them don’t know how to operate their cameras. Kat said she even saw parents handing their kids the camera to go up and take pictures.

We headed out of the Italian art exhibit hall and headed downstairs to the ancient Greek displays. This area wasn’t as crowded so we got a bit of a respite from the insanity upstairs. People were still using their cameras despite the signs forbidding it, but I wasn’t as bothered since these were sculptures and not as sensitive to light. Still, I felt like it was rude and unnecessary. We saw the iconic statue of Aphrodite and we were both surprised and impressed by the sculpture of Hermaphrodite reclining on a bed made of stone.

It was already 6:30 and we had only done one wing of the Louvre. We had to cut our visit short if we were to see Notre Dame and old town. We felt okay about it since we were frustrated with the crowds, and we’d determined that we really weren’t museum people. We stopped by the bathrooms on the way out. The men’s bathroom was disgusting. Kat’s experience wasn’t much better.

We were glad to leave the Louvre and continue our exploration. I was getting a bit hungry, but I didn’t want to stop for dinner so I kept my eyes open for a street vendor. Kat was thirsty too, so we stopped at a food cart that offered crepes and juice. I ordered a crepe with nutella that was pretty good and a Panini sandwich for later. Kat had a smoothie of some sort. Then we crossed the Seine again on the Pont Neu to reach the tiny island on which Ste. Chapelle and Notre Dame both sit.

Kat and I made a quick tour of the small island and took pictures of Notre Dame. I was excited to see the iconic flying buttresses. We continued past it to the other bank and found art sellers packing up for the day. On a whim, we took a look at one booth and finally found a painting we both liked. It was an impressionistic piece of Notre Dame and we liked the colors. We bought it along with a tube to pack it in. Kat felt better armed with a tube in hand to keep people from walking into her. It seemed to work pretty well.

It was 7:00 and we still had some time before we had to catch a taxi. My shoulders were killing me and I was out of energy. I could have grabbed a taxi then, but I let Kat drag me around the old town markets for a while longer. I’m glad we did it. The narrow markets were packed with interesting shops, cafes, and bars. Kat bought a crepe with nutella, coconut, and Grand Marnier. I was jealous because hers looked so much better than mine. There were some women just standing there watching the guy make crepes. They didn’t want one; they just really liked watching. Somewhere along the way Kat found a great little game store packed with board games. I’d never seen so many in such a small space before. They were mostly in French, and I didn’t want to carry anything more home, so we didn’t buy any. It was still neat to look through them all. Gaming is a much more respected hobby in Europe.

I told Kat it was time to go so we went in search of a taxi to take us back to the station. Kat spotted a line of them parked at a square where earlier some break-dancers had drawn a large crowd. Now there were police gathering to break things up. We just hopped in the first taxi in line and told him to take us to the Gare du Nord. I counted our remaining euros and hoped we had enough to pay the driver when we got there. It was enough, and we still had some left over.

In the station we found a seat in a café and ordered a couple 1664s to drink and relax for a bit and reflect on our day trip. We felt exhausted and accomplished. We were both very drained. We hoped that we would get dinner on the train. I ate my soggy sandwich anyway. The train arrived and we worked our way back through immigration and customs. There were two separate passport checkpoints on this end, one for leaving France and another one 10 feet away for entering England. At the England booth you needed to show a customs form that we hadn’t filled out yet. We got out of line to fill out our forms and I started to panic about getting to our train on time. Kat kept her cool and told me everything would be fine. I kept making mistakes on my form in my haste to fill it out. She was right; everything turned out fine. We got through and on our coach with no problems. They fed us on the ride home and I even caught a few minutes of sleep.

We arrived in St. Pancras station around 11:00. We both used the bathroom and came out with a stolen roll of toilet paper apiece for our apartment; that saved us a trip to Tesco. We jumped on the tube and got home around 11:45. The room was cleaned and we had fresh towels and bed sheets. We took showers and went to bed. Everything was great except for our neighbors and their crying baby.