Our next stop, after Dover was historic Paris. This was sort of the pinnacle of the trip, because we were spending the most time and money there. We stayed in a lovely little hotel in the heart of the Latin Quarter. We were just two blocks from the Musee d'Orsay, two blocks from the Lourve, and three blocks from Notre Damn. Rue Saint Germain and Rue Saint Michel were just a hop, skip, and a jump away (perhaps with a few more hops, I wasn't counting too accurately). By the time we made the ferry trip from Dover to Calais, then train from Calais to Lille and Lille to Paris we were exhausted. It was, yet again, another day devoted to travel. But, none-the-less, we put on our walking shoes to catch the last bit of sunlight.
Paris, as always, was absolutely beautiful. It was actually really hot, too (which I, in my infinite wisdom, hadn't prepared for). Still, I perservered! And I went forth to enjoy the journey. It was at this point, thought, that something began to creep up on me. With every passing moment we spent in Paris, I had the feeling that I had left something behind. Something just wasn't right. Only in hindsight can I identify it with perfect clarity, a backbone. I completely lost all confidence in my ability to communicate which may or may not have been due to the fact that I couldn't actually communicate. Who knows? These things are so abstract. Well, let's just say that I felt obligated to let everyone else be right, just so it wouldn't seem like I was ignorant. Brilliant plan! Right?! My wallet says otherwise. To this end I found myself
with crap French batteries, a sandwich, and a 50 Euro portrait of myself (oh, yes...classy I know.)
Anywhooo...we, of course, saw all the sights.
- Eifel Tower (with brownie...yum)
- Notre Damn: We saw this crazy video at night where they had the whole history of the cathedral narrated by the founder, whose been dead for centries.
- Musee d'Orsay: This was actually my first visit to the museum and I thought it was fabulous.
P.S. He judges you.
- Llourve: On Wednesday nights they keep the museum open until 9:30, and from 6-9:30 it's half price. It was pretty much great. I was pretty exhausted by the time we actually got there, though...so after a visit to my favorite pieces (Vermeer, Venus Di Milo, Statue of Nike), I went to my favority spot in the whole palace; the basement cafe! Hot chocolate all the way!
- And then, the obligatory stops at every possible patisserie, boulangerie, choclaterie, and cafe. Oh god, it was so good. So, so good. So much chocolatey goodness. There was even this chocolaterie right next door to our hotel, yeah 5 Euro on two pieces of chocolate...but so worth it.
For me, I think the highlight attraction was Shakespeare and Co. Yes ladies and gentlemen, the very bookstore where, in my most beloved Before Sunset, Jesse (Ethan Hawke) meets Celine
(Julie Delpy) for the first time in ten years!! I nearly cried out when I saw it...okay, so I did cry out and slightly embaress Katie when I saw it. But come on!! It was way too exciting to just walk past. Who doesn't love that scene! Oh, man...I have to calm myself down. ::supress, supress::So that's pretty much the Paris, in a nutshell. BUT, I should also say that it was at this point that my camera started to go on the fritz and after Bath, it's capabilities to take photos was no more. I deeply mourn its loss. A moment of silence, please.
Ahem...I also have included the two journal entries I wrote about the experience:
September 7, 2006
Right now, Katie and I are sitting on a train in Paris, which will soon be heading toward Bologne where we will make a transfer for our final destination of Calais. At this moment, I couldn’t feel anymore like an American tourist stereotype. The morning started off with an early ‘wake-up’ call from the front desk, telling us that our 6 am taxi had arrived.
Katie: “What time is it?”
Olivia: (looking at my cell phone/alarm clock) “Three minutes to five. Why?”
Katie: “Because it sounded like he said our 6 am taxi was here.”
Olivia: “Oh…”
Katie: (presumably checking the time on her own watch) “Wait. It is 6 o’clock.”
Olivia: “Shit.”
Apparently, I had not noticed or bothered to change my cell phone clock to an hour ahead for out stay in Paris. 10 minutes later, in world record time, we were out of bed, dressed, packed, checked-out, and in the taxi. It was not a good way to wake up. But that was just step one.
Driver: “(something in French)”
As I was still rubbing sleep out of my eyes and settling into my seat:
Olivia: “Nord. Merci.”
Driver: “(questioning, puzzled look and something in French)”
Olivia: (wishing I had taken just one semester of French) “Le train? Nord?” Then turning to Katie with a helpless look of a deer in headlights, “I thought we asked the front desk to tell him we need to go to Nord.”
Katie: Turning to the driver, “Le gare du Norde.”
Olivia: (‘Where the hell did she pull that from?’)
Driver: “(something in French)”
Olivia: “What exactly did you tell him?”
Katie: “The train station, Nord.”
Driver: “(one last time, still in French, still had no idea what he was saying)”
Katie: “Oui”
And off we went. Then, I glanced at the meter, which had been running since he arrived at three ‘till six.
METER: 14.60 euro
Grabbing my wallet I searched for the rest of my money. 8 euro and 20 cents. Looking up quickly, I saw the meter turn:
METER: 15.20 euro
All I could do was pray, ‘God, please let us have enough money between us.’ I knew that the fare from the station to the hotel had only been a little less than six Euro; we had hope. I would have walked if I had felt at all confident about wandering through Paris at dawn with 50 lbs of luggage. I turned to Katie, prodding her on the shoulder and the making the international sign for cash by rubbing my thumb against my other four fingers. She looked down at her purse, thought for a second, then turned back to me and quietly said, “About twelve.”
Some relief.
I looked back at the meter:
METER: 18.50 Euro
Then I prayed, ‘God, please let this be less than 20 euro. Please, please.’
By the time we pulled up to the station my fists were in tight bunches and all I wanted to do was get away as soon as I could. I had been staring at the meter the whole time, jaw clenched. It finally read:
METER: 20.70 Euro
When the cab finally stopped I handed Katie all my euro and looked impatiently from her to the driver, then at the door and back to her again.
Olivia: “How much?”
Katie glared at me holding out 20 euro and 20 cents. She made me to pull out her credit card but there were no signs my much beloved ‘We Accept Visa’ stickers. The driver was getting frustrated.
Olivia: “I feel like I am going to throw up.”
She handed the driver the lump sum of our Euros as I plunged into my backpack, routing out some Pounds Sterling. After a few more panicked communications I had convinced Katie to stay in the taxi and told a very pissed driver that I would be back in a second with his money. I came back with the exchange from a 10 pound note and shoved it in his hand, after which he even helped us with our bags. Then, thankfully in tact and with all my luggage, my cousin, and her luggage we scrambled into the station and away from the cab.
Now, after fighting down my guilt, embarrassment, and idiocy, all I could hope was that we found tickets and made the trip fast enough to Calais to board our ferry to Dover.