I'm not going to write about what I don't know, and that's a lot when it comes to France. Neither Pat nor I know French or much about the history, culture, and politics of the country. The cities we visited on this trip are some of those unusual places that neither one of us had been before.
Afraid of the snobbish French stereotype, we tried our best to use some simple French phrases, mostly "Parlez-vous anglais... s'il vous plaît??" (Do you speak English... please??) Even that, we probably didn't pronounce correctly—we would have embarrassed Jannelle quite a bit :) The really sad part is that we have spent more time trying to learn Italian and more time in Italy recently so we were si-ing when we should have been oui-ing. It surprised me how much Italian I have retained and how that always came to mind first when struggling for basic phrases. This is not to say that I could survive in Italy using only simple Italian either. Pat's co-workers assured him that he'd be able to get by using mostly English in France, that the French rudeness has dissipated when faced with the almighty tourist Euro. I told Pat we weren't there to make friends, just to see what we wanted to see, and try to be polite enough that we wouldn't get a lugee in our food. Sightseeing in Paris for 2 1/2 days, we got to see everything we had planned to, but there is certainly a lot more out there. You could probably spend a week in the myriad of museums alone, not to mention all of the neighborhoods we didn't get a chance to see.
With all of that being said, what follows is our very subjective view of Paris, comprised mostly of pretty pictures...
What struck us almost immediately is the large scale, and very dramatic, city planning. The French seem to be experts in sculpting views. It becomes very obvious that this can only be achieved through a tyrannical monarchy with a strong vision. Our very first stop was at Napoleon I's Arc de Triomphe, where 12 streets intersect in one massive, chaotic roundabout with no lanes (think Chevy Chase's European Vacation x 10). This is the only roundabout in Paris where the people coming into it have the right of way. It's also the only place where neither party is at fault if you're in an accident and both insurance companies split the bill 50-50. Luckily, there's an underground passageway for pedestrians to safely reach the Arc in the center of this madness. We climbed the 284 steps inside the Arc to tour the interior rooms (there are a few and they're surprisingly large) and to get a better view of Paris (and the entertaining traffic below) from the top.
As you stand at the Arc, you can see straight down the Champs-Elysées to the Egyptian obelisk, and into the center of the Louvre.
The 3,300 year old, 72 ft., 220-ton red granite obelisk of Luxor was a gift from Egypt in the 1830s and took 2 years of torturous travel to get from Egypt to its current resting place. What always amazes me about these ancient obelisks, whether here or in Rome, is how perfect and crisp the engravings are since they were done in such a hard stone. They always look brand new to me.
In the space between the obelisk and the Louvre are the manicured Tuileries Gardens, gilded fountains on the Place de la Concorde square, and another smaller Arc du Carrousel.
If I knew, I forgot that the Louvre started out as a palace that dates back to 1200—it only became an art museum after the Revolution in 1793. The large, airy, ostentatious interiors made an interesting backdrop to the art. Seeing the mob scene at the Louvre, I was afraid of another Sistine Chapel repeat (being herded like cattle almost single file through a maze of hot, sweaty rooms where you have to wear pants and where I became thoroughly disgusted by the wealth of the catholic church). I can report that the Louvre is better than the Vatican Museum. It is temperature controlled, there isn't a dress code, and most importantly, there are infinite routes to take and lots of space so that you can avoid the press of humanity.
Of course, the most crowded parts are around the most popular attractions. We braved the throngs to see the Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo statue, and The Winged Victory of Samothrace statue. I didn't realize Napoleon III's apartments in the palace had been left intact so we ran through those so I could see what the gilded age was all about. As I expected, it's complete visual overload with grandeur dripping from every orifice, but a marvel, or maybe a curiosity, similar to a traffic accident. Below is a picture of a more digestable room—I couldn't bring myself to take a picture of the really gaudy stuff.
As I've said before, we're not museum people so we spent as much time in there as our feet and patience could take and then headed back out into the world where the sun was shining for the first time during our trip.
We visited Ile de la Cité, Pont Neuf, Ile St. Louis and, of course, Notre Dame. I don't know if it's because we now live within sight of the Minster in York, or if it's because I've visited more churches in the last 9 months than in my lifetime combined, but it wasn't as impactful as I would have thought and actually looked small. Of course it's still worth seeing. The buttresses are flying elegantly, the rose windows are more impressive in scale and number than any I've seen, and in the spring you have beauty blooming all around it.
Then there's the Eiffel Tower—one of those international icons that lives up to its reputation when you see it in person. What truly amazes me is that it was meant to be temporary and was suppose to be torn down in 1909, but is still structurally sound today. I was surprised that it's brown. I guess most of the images I've seen are black and white or artificially darkened because of the bright sky behind. Here's an interesting Wikipedia fact on that... "Maintenance of the tower includes applying 50 to 60 tonnes of paint every seven years to protect it from rust. In order to maintain a uniform appearance to an observer on the ground, three separate colors of paint are used on the tower, with the darkest on the bottom and the lightest at the top. On occasion the color of the paint is changed; the tower is currently painted a shade of brownish-grey." When it gets dark, the tower has a light show for the first 10 minutes of every hour—white lights all over the structure blink randomly making it glitter. It is well worth seeing.
Advice for future travelers to the Eiffel Tower: 1) Go with patience. You're easily looking at more than an hour wait to go up, day or night, even midweek. I overheard in line that you can buy tickets in advance online and get into the almost non-existent fast lane. That would be worth looking into. 2) Be prepared for a carnival atmosphere—there are carousels, ice cream galore, and trinkets available from every third person. It is after all probably THE tourist sight in Paris. 3) They say the view from the second level is usually best because of pollution, etc. at the top. It is a pretty view, but I'd have to admit that the Empire State Building is better (at least at night—the "City of Lights" can't compete with the amount of electricity surging through the Big Apple anymore).
Riding the elevator inside the tower is an experience in itself. The original mechanisms for lifting the elevator are still being used, but have been restored and computerized. As Wikipedia describes, "The passenger lifts from ground level to the first level are operated by cables and pulleys driven by massive water-powered pistons. As they ascend the inclined arc of the legs, the elevator cabins tilt slightly, but with a slight jolt every few seconds, in order to keep the floor nearly level." This, in addition to the glass walls of the elevator, can be a little disconcerting. When you get out you can see the little platform on the outside of the elevator where the "driver" used to control the elevator with a wheel—not a job I would want. Now the "drivers" are inside pushing buttons.
Ok, so enough of the big sights. You have to see them, but one of the real reasons I wanted to go to Paris was to experience the ambiance, or je ne sais quoi, that you always hear about.
For this, you only have to walk the streets to experience it. Between the architectural elegance, the thousands of sidewalk cafes, sidewalk art, leafy green parks, and the tasty treats on every corner, Paris is a special place.
(Pont Alexandre III bridge across the Seine)
(one of the original Metro, or subway, entrances)
(a little Art Nouveau that reminded us of Barcelona)
The cuisine (I think referring to it as "food" might be insulting) was great. Not to say that we didn't have a bad meal, but the majority were so good they canceled out the bad. Excellent sauces, tender beef, creamy potatoes, wonderful quiche, chocolate mousse, and chocolate cake gave us a taste of what French cooking is all about. Pat even dove into some excellent escargot and mussels—I'll have to take his word for that. We also had some good international fare ranging from sushi (how we miss you) and gyros. I can safely say much of it was better than anything I've had in Britain (with the exception of Indian and Sticky Toffee Pudding).
What I really appreciate is the bread culture. In Britain, they are big proponents of free-range eggs. I would say the French are big fans of free-range bread. I can't tell you how many times I saw people walking the streets with a big old baguette in their hand. Naked, golden crust exposed to the wind and held only by a napkin handle, these loaves get a good view of the town on their way to the chopping block—what better way to live? In fact, the French take their bread products so seriously that you can only be qualified to make either bread OR pastry, since it is assumed that no one person can do BOTH well :) Many times, the two disciplines will partner to sell both goods in one store. Judging by the number of free-range loaves and quantity of boulangeries/pâtisseries (bread shops/pastry shops), buying fresh bread must be an almost daily event. That's a love affair I can get on board with.
We frequented our local boulangerie/pâtisserie for breakfasts, feasting on superb bread, croissants, and other pastry treats with apple, almond, or chocolate fillings. The nice thing about the French versions is that they aren't sickly sweet like the American attempts. Don't get me wrong, I am not under the impression that they are healthy, but you do need some fuel for the "Bataan Death March" as Pat fondly referred to our vacation.
Feet tired and sore, but stomachs pleasantly full, we left Paris... au revoir!
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