Showing posts with label Paris. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paris. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Paris, Part Two: The Part That Didn't Totally Suck

When we last left our heroine (aka me), she was sulking in the Jardin des Plantes in Paris, wondering what she had done wrong in life to deserve such an unrelenting stream of bad luck.

Luckily, things were only going to (mostly) get better from that point forward. After about an hour spent indulging in self-pitying and childishly wishing to be at home wrapped in a blanket, hugging a teddy bear, and quite possibly reverting to thumb-sucking, I picked myself up and walked back toward the Mosquée de Paris with a defiant air and a look of steely determination. "Forget you, Paris," I said in the FCC-friendly version of my inner monologue. "Forget you and forget your mother. I am Renée forgetting Gauthier, and you have not beaten me yet.  Forget, forget, forget."

I arrived at the mosque and found the ticket counter. There seemed to be some sort of hullabaloo; aside from the ticket seller, there were two men standing nearby shouting in Arabic and banging their hands emphatically on the desk. I waited from a safe distance to see how this apparent dispute was going to lay out, but the ticket seller merely smiled at me, took out a ticket, and motioned me forward past the other two men, who were apparently simply having some sort of heated debate rather than engaging in a customer service dispute. 

The upside to this was that the ticket guy sold me a student-price ticket, which I was not going to argue with. Despite the fact that I look about eighteen years old, I have not been able to claim student discounts anywhere because of my lack of a valid student ID. It's been killing me, because every place I go ticket sellers will ask, "Are you a student?" and then I have to say no and pay full price. Adulthood: it ain't all it's cracked up to be.

Anyway, the mosque was cool. It didn't blow my mind with its supreme beauty or anything (the fountains were dry and the gardens were sparse, since it was still rather early in the season), but I'd never been to a mosque before and it was cool to look around.



La Mosquée de Paris


After the mosque I headed toward the Seine to meander in the general direction of Sainte Chapelle. I'd never visited it before but my 501 Must-See Destinations book had recommended it and I'd generally heard good things. Along the way I checked out the stalls of used books along the river and cheered up as the sun finally made an appearance after a morning spent hiding behind forbidding-looking clouds.

My first views of Notre Dame reminded me of my last trip to Paris which, it must be noted, had gone rather more smoothly than this one. Nevertheless, the return to somewhat familiar territory brightened my spirits considerably. I thought about taking another look inside Notre Dame, but the line--which stretched all the way across the square and then continued on for a block or so--quickly dissuaded me, and I continued on to Sainte Chapelle.

Sainte Chapelle, built by Louis IX between 1239 and 1248, is a magnificent chapel that was once part of a royal palace within the city. Today Sainte Chapelle and apparently part of the Palais de Justice next door are the only parts that remain of the old building.

The chapel is divided into two floors: the Lower Chapel (which houses a lot of souvenir stalls these days) is relatively low-ceilinged and heavy-looking, with squat arched columns and moderately-sized stained glass windows. The ceiling is painted dark blue with gold stars, although I suspect the paint job was done more recently than the thirteenth century. The Lower Chapel was built for the use of palace staff.  It's impressive in its way, but the main draw lies upstairs, in the Upper Chapel.


The Lower Chapel


So up I went, climbing a narrow stone spiral staircase. At my first glimpse of the chapel, my breath caught in my throat. It was, to quote the French lady standing nearby, "magnifique." Sainte Chapelle has gorgeous stained glass windows that stretch nearly from the floor to the heights of the soaring Gothic ceiling. It seems like there is more glass than stone making up the chapel walls, and this gives the chapel an air of extreme delicacy and fragility combined with extraordinary strength. It's really quite remarkable to think about how these glass windows have survived the Reformation, the Revolution, and two world wars, plus eight hundred years of general wear and tear. I mean, I can't even make a pair of boots last beyond a season. (In my defense, Dartmouth winters are really hard on shoes, especially when the pathways get over-salted. My knowledge of medieval chapel maintenance is admittedly limited, but I'm pretty sure road salt doesn't come into it.)


Windows of the Upper Chapel


Sainte Chapelle, now with added scaffolding for your viewing pleasure!


Not even the hordes of tourists could detract (much) from the splendor of this place. The only major distraction was the scaffolding covering three of the windows, which were being restored. (Hey, when you get to be 800, you need a facelift or two. I'm sure Joan Rivers would back me up on this.)

The cloudy weather (the sun had disappeared again) couldn't even ruin the effect, although I can only imagine what Sainte Chapelle looks like with the sun streaming through all the windows. It's easy to see why it's nicknamed "the jewel box."

When I had been waiting in line for Sainte Chapelle, I'd noticed a flyer advertising a Bach concert for around 7 pm. On the way out I decided to be impulsive and I bought a concert ticket for the reasonable price of 16€. Then I walked around in the rain looking for a place to eat dinner. I got soaked through despite my umbrella and the quiche I eventually ate was thoroughly underwhelming, but by this point I had a concert to look forward to so things seemed okay enough. Plus nothing could be worse than the beginning of the day.

I slogged back through the downpour to Sainte Chapelle and took a seat for the concert. I had high hopes that the chapel would warm up a bit once the doors were shut, but no such luck. I was sopping wet and shivery throughout the entire program, but it didn't really dampen (see what I did there?) my mood. Like I said, sometimes it takes the morning (okay, morning and previous evening) from hell to put things in perspective.

The concert was good. Was it the best I'd ever heard? No, but it was still quite lovely, and you really can't beat the venue of an eight-hundred-year-old church. The acoustics were surprisingly underwhelming, but I could hear well enough even though I was near the back.

Much more distracting was the middle-aged Russian lady next to me who seemed to think that stage whispering was the same as actually being silent. Let me just list, in order, the things she did during the concert:

1. Started a conversation with her companions in the middle of a piece

2.  Pulled out her cell phone, turned it on, checked for texts

3. Pulled out a SECOND phone, turned it on, started texting

4. Pretended to be a bunny rabbit (?!?!)

5. Giggled uncomtrollably at her own rabbit impression

It was entertaining, I guess, but I would have rather enjoyed without interruption the entertainment I'd actually paid 16€ for.

But after the concert I went back to the hostel, took a long-anticipated hot shower, and had a sound night's sleep free of both annoyed hostel employees and Russian bunny people. 

Paris, maybe you ain't so bad after all.


The closest I got to the Eiffel Tower on this whole trip

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Paris: A Really Un-Funny Comedy of Errors

May 18, 9 pm
Arrive at hostel after lugging backpack through the rain, following iffy directions from GoogleMaps. Reception informs me that instead of two nights I've booked in the eight-bed mixed dormitory, I've been assigned one night in a six-bed female dorm and one night in the mixed, which means I'll have to check out in the morning, shove all my stuff into a locker in the hostel basement, and then re-check-in in the evening.

The sole consolation I get from the receptionist: "Usually the six-bed room is more expensive, but we'll only charge you for two nights in the eight-bed dorm." You'll only charge me for the services I actually ordered?! Wow, that's big of you. Thanks.

9:15 pm
Arrive in room to find that bed A, the bed I've been assigned, is taken. Bed C appears to be the only available bed in the room. So I take bed C.

May 19, 1:25 am
Awoken by hostel employee shoving some sort of check-in paperwork in my face and demanding "Is this you?!" in French. The form belongs to the person who apparently belongs in bed C. I summon all the French I have available in my mentally muddled state and try to explain the situation. Considering that I had been fully unconscious not one minute earlier, I think I do a pretty good job. Hostel guy is unimpressed and says--rather snottily in my opinion--"En fait, le lit etait disponible," which means, "In fact, the bed WAS available."

Oh, was it really? Sorry, it's clearly MY fault that no one changed the bed and it therefore appeared to be in use. I should have used my PSYCHIC POWERS. My bad.

1:30 am
Hostel guy goes to get fresh sheets for the other bed for the girl who was supposed to be in bed C, and I check the time and promptly freak out because I think it's 1:30 in the afternoon and that I overslept by six hours. (In my defense, the room was very brightly lit and I HAD BEEN UNCONSCIOUS FIVE MINUTES AGO.) Once I figure out it's 1:30 am (after the other people in the room enlightened me to this fact) I crawl back under the covers, now both a time-telling dunce AND a bed-stealing jerk.

8:30 am
Oversleep.

9:30 am
Set off for the Catacombs, the one thing I want to do most in Paris--and possibly on this trip. You can't get me down, Paris! I still have the Catacombs! (OMINOUS FORESHADOWING)

10:00 am
Metro police kick everybody off the metro because the line is going out of service due to construction. Were there signs about this? Sure, but they all said the line wouldn't be affected until four or five stops later. Good one, France.

10:05 am
After many flights of stairs and two MOVING WALKWAYS I finally make it to the subway platform of the line to which I'm transferring, just in time to see the train pull away. Fabulous!

10:12 am
FINALLY get on the right metro. Catacombs, here I come!

10:25 am
Start wandering around the square looking for the Catacombs, which are supposed to be RIGHT THERE.

10:35 am
Still wandering, but on a boulevard now.

10:45 am
STILL wandering, and now I'm nearly back where I started. Time to pull out the map.

10:50 am
Found them!

10:50:30 am
Found the sign that says "The Catacombs will be closed Sunday, May 19." There is no  explanation offered.

10:51 am
Fighting the uncontrollable urge to cry in public in front of strangers. Also zipping through the five stages of grief, except I keep getting stalled on anger and denial and seem unable to land on acceptance. This was the thing I wanted to do most on this trip! It was basically the reason I came to Paris, and I checked the hours of operation a million times! This cannot be happening!

11:00 am
Stalk back to the metro station, quite tempted to just go back to the hostel and nap forever. Decide to check out a Sunday market, swing by the Mosquée de Paris (Paris Mosque) which is supposed to be pretty cool and unique, then go to Sainte Chapelle if I'm feeling up to it. I give myself full permission to mope and wallow in self pity once these things are done.

11:15 am
Sitting sulkily on the subway, I become convinced that I am going to be mugged today, because hey, why not? Also that  I am going to miss my flight tomorrow, lose my passport, and spend the rest of my trip in the American Embassy trying to get my life together.

11:30 am
Arrive at market. Eat a pretty good galette (a savory crepe, basically). Am feeling a bit better.

12:25 pm
Start wandering around, casually searching for the mosque, which is in the same neighborhood as the market.

12:45 pm
Found it! There it is, towering about a block or two away.

12:55 pm
Oh hey, can I check out the mosque? NO, because it's closed from 12-2. What the actual hell. What is this day?!

By 1:00 I had lost all faith in Paris. As far as I was concerned, it sucked. Worst city on the planet, and it obviously hated me. But 1:00 proved to be a turning point. Don't worry, this story has a happy ending!

Well, happyish. Spoiler alert, I never get to see the Catacombs. But I get to see some pretty cool other stuff. That story (with pictures!) will be posted soon.

Until then, let's leave me sitting forlornly on a bench in the Jardin des Plantes under a cloudy sky. It's more dramatic to end that way.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Spring Break, continued

Oh, hello again. I'm back. I should be studying for my midterms (which are coming up this week), but I know I'm gonna procrastinate and I figure that procrastination by blogging is slightly more productive than procrastinating by creeping around on facebook, so here I am.

Let's see, where did I leave off? Okay. Here we go.

Day Nine: samedi le 24 avril (Saturday, 24 April)
Actually woke up in time to take advantage of the hotel's complimentary breakfast! (It was nothing special, but for 60 € a night for one person, one has to take advantage of all the freebies one can, am I right? I also took super-long showers and stole all the complimentary toiletries. But then again, I do that everywhere.) Anyway, having eaten my bread and cheese and croissant and jam and downed my double-tall shot glass of OJ, I was ready to go explore the city some more. The night before, I had written out a plan for sight-seeing, including the names of places, the nearest metro stops, and the metro lines the stops were on. I was Miss Organized Tourist 2010. And I started the day by heading toward Sacre Coeur, known in English as Sacred Heart Basilica, up on the top of the hill. I just kind of started walking after I left the hotel, and the red light district (located uphill of the hotel) quickly faded away into quiet cobblestone streets lined with tall, faded buildings, a lot of which appeared to be residential the higher up I got. I climbed a set of steep stairs, huffing and puffing and sweating by this time, and continued my climb uphill. I wasn't really sure if I was even going in the right direction at this point, but it was a nice walk and I didn't want to whip out my Tourist Beacon (map), so I just kept going. As long as I'm headed uphill, I figured, I can't really go wrong. And for once, I was right:

Sacre Coeur: it's gotta be one of the more unique architectural landmarks in Paris.

The basilica sits up on top of a huge hill overlooking the city (maybe you remember it off in the distance in that picture from the previous entry). The view is ridiculous: the entire city stretched out before me, fading into the humid morning haze:

Just another thing I climbed to the top of in Paris. No big.

I can only imagine what the view must be like on a really clear day. Amazing. And a little dizzying.

I went inside the basilica but you aren't allowed to take pictures inside. (You're also supposed to be respectfully dressed - aka no shoulders, ladies - but I definitely saw a woman wearing a tube dress in there. And I don't wanna sound mean, but this woman should not have been wearing a tube dress anywhere - the beach, the pool, whatever - let alone in a church. Still not as bizarre as the strapless prom dress-wearing lady I saw at Notre Dame, though.) Anyway, I bought a couple postcards, one of which showed the inside of the church, and then headed back down the hill by the more traveled, more touristy way (avoiding all the people asking me to sign petitions, take surveys, buy light-up paperweights of the Eiffel Tower, etc.). This particular route deposited me smack dab in the middle of a bunch of cheap souvenir shops. You know what I'm talking about - they're all selling keychains, postcards, baseball caps, and the same four shot glasses. But I gave in to the urge and did a little shopping, buying some souvenirs for myself, some postcards to send home, and a little present for Tracey. After I made it back down the hill, I exchanged my travelers' checks and rewarded myself by buying a really cute minidress/long top and some cute flats at a cheap-y, hole-in-the-wall store. (Shoes = 4,95 €. Dress = 10 €. Me = ecstatic.)

Shopping bags in hand, I continued around Montmartre - it's very pretty (and peaceful once you get off the tourist-y streets), with a lot of art galleries (as it is known as the artists' neighborhood of Paris) and, for some reason, a lot of cloth and textile ("tissu") stores. But I was on a mission: I wanted to find Amélie's café (from the movie). The film itself takes place in Paris, particularly Montmartre, where the title character lives. (In fact, one of the film's international titles is "Amélie of Montmartre.") The café Amélie works at, I'd discovered during my hotel research, is actually a real place, and I was determined to find it. The only problem was that I had no real idea where it was (only that it was somewhat near Rue Aristide Bruant), no real recollection of the name (something about windmills, maybe?), and only the foggiest recollection of what it looked like. (Unfortunately, half the cafés in Paris could fit my "foggy recollection.") Nevertheless, I was intent on finding this place, despite the fact that I had little idea what I was actually looking for and my map didn't include Rue Aristide Bruant.

My first break came in Place des Abbesses, where I found a posted map that included the road I was looking for - and it was only a couple blocks down! I set off, wandered back up the hill, found a windmill (Montmartre used to be covered with them - read all about it here), and in short had a very pleasant walk along some beautiful streets - but no trace of Amélie or her café.

Whooooosh.

All the streets not running "parallel" to the hill are steep and some are killer to climb.

I did, however, stumble across an SNCF boutique. Perfect, since I needed to get a refund on my return ticket from Milan (since I didn't ever make it to Italy) and get my ticket back to Lyon printed out for me. I waited in line for probably over half an hour (boring) and finally got everything taken care of. By this time it was around noon and I said to myself, "You'd better get going if you wanna do anything else in the city today. Just drop your stuff off at the hotel and take the metro over to the Eiffel Tower. You'll be mad at yourself if you spend the whole day looking for a café you may or may not have unwittingly seen already" (and I'd been taking pictures of all of them, just in case). I begrudgingly admitted to myself that this was good advice, and started wandering back in the general direction of the hotel. And there it was. No, not the hotel, you doof. The café!!! It was called Café des 2 Moulins, "The Two Windmills," because it's located between the Moulin Rouge and the windmill at the top of the hill. I recognized the name, but what's more is I recognized the big honkin' picture of Audrey Tautou on the back wall of the restaurant. What luck! I thought, and proceeded to take a million (or, okay, three) pictures:

Amélie's café!

So I returned to the hotel (after a brief detour to McDonald's to use the free wifi) feeling good. I dropped off my stuff and then headed to the Eiffel Tower. I got off not right at the tower but at a stop that was slightly further away (it was easier than transferring metro lines) and kind of blindly felt out my way toward the tower. I finally found it and approached it from the side with a very nice little park with koi ponds, etc. As I stood there, staring mesmerized at the fish, I got a text from my friend Nayab saying that a group of my friends had just returned from Prague and were in the city. I called her back to plan a time to meet, talked to Jake, and he agreed that they'd text or call me when they'd figured out their plans. I therefore figured I had some time, and I got in line to go up the Eiffel Tower - all stairs, baby, no elevators for me. Sure the stairs only take you up to the second landing (not the very top), but the student ticket was 3,50 € (as opposed to 11,50 € to go all the way up in the elevator). I steeled myself for a long walk and headed up. I made it to the first landing, took a crapload of pictures, and then headed up to the second landing, where I took another bunch of pictures of all the same stuff, only higher. Here's a sampling:

Let's play "spot the Arc de Triomphe"...

Keep in mind how this picture makes it look like you're close to the top...later you'll see that you're really not even halfway up.

Having had my fill of Eiffel Tower tourist-related hijinks, including, but not limited to: buying overpriced postcards (0,50 € each?!), counting the steps all the way down to the ground from the second landing (692), and listening to an American tourist make a failed attempt to thank a French security guard in his native language ("Gracias!"), I got in touch with the rest of the group (whilst fending off the million and one guys standing around trying to sell me yet another light-up Eiffel Tower paperweight) and found out that they were getting falafel, apparently at a restaurant called only "Falafel." I headed off in search of a metro station. Somehow I managed to get myself lost while doing this (despite the fact that there is a metro station at the Eiffel Tower - although it's really not the most convenient line for getting where I needed to go). As I was wondering around Paris, hot and sweaty and starting to get hungry, I got another text telling me that the restaurant was closed and that instead I should just text the group when I got off at the St. Paul metro stop. Okay. I found a metro, got on, transferred, rode to St. Paul, and was just about to send off a text when the group spotted me (thus saving me 20 Eurocents). We checked out St. Paul's cathedral and then went to Notre Dame (my second time, but the first time for some of the others). We walked up by the Pantheon again and then got Indian food for dinner, immediately after which we found a crêpe stand and bought crêpes (natch). It was starting to get dark, so we went back toward the Eiffel Tower to see it all lit up at night. Kelly and Nayab were absolutely enthralled. It was adorable. =)

We had a lot of fun taking pictures in front of the tower (Amanda and I took a bunch of pictures of us throwing the Kappa Delta sign, since I'm short and the sign actually covered my face in some of the pictures...booooo), and we got a fellow tourist to take a picture of all of us (he was super-nice), although the pictures didn't come out so great in the dark:

You can tell it's actually us and not just a random group of people because you can see me off on the right, being all short and whatnot.

La Tour Eiffel at night.

We explored the base of the tower a bit and briefly considered going up, but in the end we decided to just go grab a spot on the lawn to watch the tower sparkle, which it does every hour on the hour for a couple minutes. It was very nice. I believe we sang some Disney songs and Kelly and I split a bar of dark chocolate with quinoa in it. (It tasted like a super-delicious Crunch Bar.) And then the tower started to sparkle and there was a collective "oooh" from the crowd:


Ooh, that's right. It's a video. We're gettin' all high-tech up in here.

Believe me, the video does not come close to doing it justice. It's really pretty when it's all sparkly like that.

When the tower finished doing its thing, we went back to the metro station and took it to Pigalle so that I wouldn't have to walk in or near the red-light district by myself to get back to the hotel. (Kelly kindly offered to get me a discounted room at the Marriot with them, which would have been super-fun, but I'd already reserved three nights at my hotel so it would have been a waste of money. I was a little bummed to miss out on bonding time, so I took an extra-long, extra-hot shower to console myself, and then finished my book. Lovely.)

Anyway, people were also interested in seeing the Moulin Rouge, and I wanted to see it at night myself (something I would not have been able to do on my own). Since there were five of us (and we had a guy to protect us, haha), we braved the red-light district and made it to the Moulin Rouge, which looked all classic and whatnot lit up at night:

The (in)famous Moulin Rouge at night

Then everyone walked me back to Pigalle, at which point I said I felt like I could do the rest of the walk on my own. It was only across the square and down a side-street, after all, and there were people out and about that would certainly hear my distressed screams should I feel the need to make any. We parted with strict instructions for me to text Nayab as soon as I got back to my hotel room. Okay. Done. I started walking, whistle in hand just in case. I crossed the square. There was a guy walking close behind me, not following me per se, but muttering to me (at me?) in French as I went. I ignored him and crossed the street. He remained on the other side. Whew. Walk, walk, walk. I ignored another guy as he shouted "Excusez-moi, mademoiselle! Excusez-moi!" at me from across the street. Then my walking buddy crossed back over and walked behind me some more, continuing to mumble. It was a little creepy, but by then I was only about one door down from my hotel and could see the lobby light spilling out into the street through the open door, so I wasn't so much afraid as just a little freaked out. I walked into the lobby without turning back, got my room key from the desk, and looked around. The guy was nowhere to be seen, on the sidewalk or otherwise. I went up to my room, texted Nayab, took the aforementioned extra-long shower, and went to bed.

Day Ten: dimanche le 25 avril (Sunday, 25 April)
Woke up and went down to breakfast, where the waitress remembered me from the morning before and brought me my orange juice without me having to ask. I texted the group and, after checking out, met up with Kelly, Amanda, and Nayab outside the Louvre. I sat with them as they ate breakfast on the lawn and then they headed in. Since I'd already seen the Louvre and only had until about 2 pm before I had to head off to the train station, I opted to stay outside, catching up on some reading for class, listening to music, and sunbathing. I headed to the train station around 2 pm, bought some lunch at Brioche Dorée (my favorite French food chain, hands down), accidently ran over my new shoes with my suitcase wheels, leaving ugly black marks on the cream colored canvas, did some French swearing over that, and then waited for my train. Once I got on, the trip passed pretty much without incident. I caught up on most of my school reading (if only I could say the same today), and read a few pages of Pride and Prejudice (I like to read it every spring and every summer...I'm a little behind on that this year.). Once I'd arrived back in Lyon I decided to make the 40 minute-hour long walk home rather than taking the metro, since a.) I'm frugal, and b.) it was a beautiful day, even hotter in Lyon than it had been in Paris. I got home, texted Jacques (my host brother) so I could get into the building (since I'd left the key at home to keep it from being stolen), avoided the hobo that sometimes hangs around outside, lugged my stuff up the stairs to the elevator (yes, you have to go up some stairs to get to the elevator. I don't really understand the logic of it, either), and then crashed in my room, exhausted but tan (yesssss!!!!!!!) and happy with my spring break (even if I still harbor resentment toward a certain island nation and its lava-spewing mountains).

And that's it, I think! Whew, it's almost 8 pm and I still haven't gotten any studying done today. I should probably go get on that. Or upload vacation pictures to facebook. One of the two. If I actually get anything constructive done, I can come back here and give a run-down of what's been going on since I got back (a dinner party, a football match, a karaoke bar, and Iron Man 2 all come into play), and then I'll be all caught up! =)

Ta!

One of my favorite pictures of the Eiffel Tower from this trip. But, yeah. Check out how far the second landing is from the top. Pretty far, right? Not nearly as close as it looked when I was actually ON the landing.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

I've jampacked this post like WOW

So. I was traveling on spring break without internet for a week. (That's sort of a lie. All the McDonald's restaurants, or, as that say in French, "MacDo's," have free wifi. But my itouch has limited battery life.) Anyhoo, between dodgy internet and not having my battery charger with me, I couldn't do much in the way of blogging. Thus, here is an account of my spring break travel adventures.

Day One: vendredi le 17 avril (Friday, 17 April)
After class I attempt to "pack light." As usual, I fail. (It's all that girl-scouting "be prepared" nonsense. I've just about packed up when a little voice inside me is like, "What if your plane crashes in the jungle? Better bring bug spray, water purification tablets, and a machete. Good luck getting that through security, though.") Anyway, I ate an early dinner with the family (we usually eat between 8 and 9 and that night they ate at 6, just for me...they're so nice) and Corinne gave me a list of things to watch out for in Italy (pickpockets, pickpockets, being charged for bread and silverware in restaurants, pickpockets, and there was one more thing...oh. Pickpockets. Apparently they'll steal the ring right off your finger.). After that I gave them my house key (didn't want it to get stolen in Italy) and set off to meet Rachelle in Place Bellecour so we could walk to the train station and get the airport shuttle. Our flight didn't leave until the next morning at 7:10, but the airport shuttle doesn't run that early and a cab to the airport costs like 80 €, so we decided to just sleep at the airport. Which we did. First we checked the departures board. Despite the volcanic ash and a slew of flight cancellations, ours was unaffected. (SCORE!) We then went over to the airport hotel, went down to the fitness center, and sat on chaise lounges in the shower area (awk) to read Cosmo. If you ask me, the shower doors should have been a bit more opaque, but I guess when you sit on a lounge chair in the shower section you kind of get what you expect. Anyway, the staff lady that ran into us several times was very nice and pretended like she didn't know that we were totally freeloading (she talked to us like we were guests at the hotel although we clearly were not), and she only kicked us out of the fitness center at 11 when it closed, at which point we went up to the lobby and napped in their comfy chairs until like 1:30, when another kind staff member informed us that they needed to clear out the lobby for cleaning. We went back over to the airport, checked our flight (still on), and tried to find a place to sleep. Unfortunately all the food court booths and other prime sleeping spots had already been snapped up, and a guy had used the cafe chairs to make a bed. But we went up to the area outside a bar/restaurant on the second floor and found two cushioned(ish) benches all by themselves. No one else had apparently thought to try the second floor (SCORE AGAIN!). We went to bed around 2 and set our cell phone alarms for 5 am.

I can't say I slept well, considering I was sleeping in an airport and kept getting woken up and totally freaked out by a loud male voice (which was, each and every time, the announcement to remind people to watch their bags and report suspicious parcels to security). But all things considered, it wasn't that bad, and I was gonna be in ROME in less than 8 hours!

Day Two: samedi le 18 avril (Saturday, 18 April)
We woke up at 5, 5:30 and headed to the check-in area, only to pass a board where our flight status had been updated to a big fat red CANCELED. WHAT?! (ANTI-SCORE.) Turns out that at some point within our three hours of sleeping, they canceled all flights out of Lyon Saint-Exupery. And Paris. And Europe. Damn you, Iceland! Daaaammnnnnn yoooooouuuu!!!

We weighed our options. We could try to fly to Rome on Tuesday, but there was no guarantee that flights would be leaving by then and we didn't want to waste half of the break hanging around Lyon waiting for a flight that might or might not happen. (As it turns out, it didn't happen, so it was a good choice on our part.) This being the case, we hustled back to the train station to try and book a ticket to somewhere, anywhere. I waited in line while Rachelle checked the auto-ticket machines. She came back and said there were trains to Milan and Paris available. Milan? SCORE! We could just skip Rome and tour around Tuscany for spring break. Great! Wrong. We got to the ticket desk and the lady there informed us that the odds of the train to Milan actually going were slim on account of the national SNCF (railroad) strike. Damn you too, SNCF! Daaaammnnnnn yoooooouuuu!!!

We booked tickets to Paris (first class! - it was all that was left) as she said it was our best bet for a train that would actually function. And then we tried to figure out how to kill the time between then (8 or 9 am) and the train's departure (20h00). We went to the market in Lyon and bought cheese, bread, and fruit, then climbed up Fourvière and had a picnic brunch. Then we climbed back down, dropped our stuff at Rachelle's apartment (or, rather, her host mother's apartment) and went to Parc de la Tête d'Or. We relaxed in the sun (it was a gorgeous day) and I fell asleep (or so I assume, because Rachelle said I was snoring and I don't have any recollection of it). Rachelle decided to take a walk and I napped some more in the sun until I woke up from overheating. (I was still wearing jeans and a long-sleeved, FLANNEL shirt. Not the most fortunate choice of outfit for a 70-degree day.) Bored with just sitting around examining the contents of my purse and reading my passport, I walked over to the park's zoo and looked at the giraffes and some water birds for a little while before heading back to the spot we were in before, where Rachelle met up with me. We walked back to her place and relaxed there (her host mom had left us muffins and tea) before heading to the train station. The train surprisingly arrived on time with no problems, and we got to Paris on time. We headed straight to Rachelle's aunt and uncle's apartment, since they had kindly allowed us to stay with them. We got there and ate some fresh-baked cookies and I got to call home, since their calling plan makes free calls to North America. It was lovely.

Day Three: dimanche le 19 avril (Sunday, 19 April)
The next morning I slept in a bit (travel + stress = exhausting) and then accompanied Rachelle and her aunt to the Sunday morning market. Her aunt was really nice and asked me what kinds of veggies and cheese I liked, since I don't eat meat. It was really pleasant - I love the markets in France. We need more things like that in the US.

After the market, Rachelle brought me down to the train station and I took the train out to Versailles to meet up with some of my friends who were spending their breaks in Paris/stranded there because their flights were canceled. I was sooo psyched to see Versailles - it's been a dream of mine for years. And it didn't disappoint. The palace was beautiful and so were the grounds, which are so extensive that you literally cannot see where they end. We only got to walk through them a little bit before closing.

In the Hall of Mirrors (la galerie des Glaces) at Versailles.

The grounds at Versailles stretching on...and on...and on.

I got back later than I intended to Rachelle's aunt and uncle's and missed dinner, which I felt really bad about, especially since Rachelle's aunt had gone out of her way to make sure there was stuff for me to eat. They left food out for me, though, which was really nice of them, and the lentil salad Rachelle's aunt had made was SO GOOD.

Day Four: lundi le 20 avril (Monday, 20 April)
Rachelle really wanted to go to Normandy, so I decided to go with her. We went to the train station and waited in line forever to get a ticket for the 10:10 train to Caen. By 10:05, we were still waiting. At 10:07, Rachelle asked the lady in front of us if we could go ahead of her since we were pressed for time. She said yes, as did the lady in front of her. Now there was only one guy ahead of us, and he had to sympathetically decline our request, since he was trying to catch the same train. I started buying my ticket at 10:09. My credit card didn't work. I handed over my debit as quickly as possible and prayed that I wasn't overdrawing (and that it would actually work). It did. We ran like we were the next victims in a bad horror movie and managed to make it onto the train (which, praise Jesus, left four minutes late). As we stood in the compartment with two or three other last-minute passengers, we saw the guy from before. We all congratulated each other on our good luck and speedy running and then set off to find seats.

I really liked the way the train was set up. There was one aisle running down one side, along the windows, and then there were little compartment-type things on the other windowed wall, each consisting of eight seats (two rows of four facing each other) with a table between the two window seats. I liked it because it reminded me of old-timey trains like you see in movies, ones where the dashing hero or gorgeous heroine become involved in some kind of train murder-mystery caper in 1930s Great Britain or something. (Sometimes I think I'll never fully grow up, but that's okay. Playing pretend is wayyy too much fun.)

We got to Caen and asked some people where we could find the tourist office. "Down the street, to the left, behind the castle," is what we were told. I had to laugh because I mean, only in France would "behind the castle" be included in a set of directions. It sounds like a joke the locals play on the tourists, like how upperclassmen enjoy telling high school freshman to look for the swimming pool or that their classes are on the non-existent fourth floor or something. At any rate, we found the tourist office, ate lunch, got a hotel, and then took the bus to the Memorial de Caen, a really interesting museum about WWII, the Battle of Normandy, the Cold War, and just war and peace in general. They also had a temporary exhibit of political cartoons, all of which were very amusing:
"It's a cease-fire!"

We spent a lot more time in the museum than we realized, so we did a quick walk through the gardens (they were nothing super-special) and checked out the gallery of Nobel Peace Prize winners before taking the bus back to the town center, wandering around a bit, and treating ourselves out to dinner.

Day Five: mardi le 21 avril (Monday, 21 April)
The next morning we woke up early, ate the most delicious crêpes ever, and took the bus to Juno Beach, the beach in Normandy where the Canadians landed in WWII. It was freeeeeezing, especially since we only had lightweight cardigans with us (we'd packed for the weather in Italy, remember). While the morning was overcast and foggy, the sun came out around noon (or maybe a little bit before then) and it was gorgeous:

Juno Beach: I swear it was not as warm as it looks.

We had some time after that, so we went to Bayeux, which is known for its 900-year-old, 70-meter-long tapestry which tells the story of William the Conqueror's invasion of England. (They don't let you take pictures of that, though...understandably, the thing's literally as old as dirt. Well, some dirt.) Having learned all about William's grand journey to jolly old England and the jolly good time he had (spoiler alert!) shooting Harold, the wrongful king, in the eye with an arrow, we walked around Bayeux a bit before catching the train and heading back to Paris. That night, we met up with some Dartmouth girls studying in Paris and went out to a bar, but we had to cut the night short in order to take the metro home before it closed. Long story short, we still missed the metro and ended up walking all the way from Notre Dame back to the Eiffel Tower (which, if you've ever been to Paris, you'll recognize is a mighty long walk. And I was in going-out shoes. Hello, blisters. Nice to see you right at the beginning of my foot-travel-intensive vacation.). On the plus side, though, it was cool to see the city at night, and Rachelle pointed out a lot of sights to me, which was useful the next day...

Day Six: mercredi, le 22 avril
...as I walked around Paris on my own, exploring. Rachelle went on a day trip to another town, since she's been to Paris several times already (lucky her!) and the same old sites are getting a bit boring for her, I imagine.

Anyway, I walked from the Tour Eiffel (Eiffel Tower) to Hôtel des Invalides to Place de la Concorde, then through the Tuileries (formal gardens) to the Louvre, where I spent the afternoon walking around and taking an insane number of photos.

Obligatory picture of La Jocunde (the Mona Lisa). Don't be fooled; there was a GIANT crowd around me as I took this picture. But yeah, she's TINY.

The sculpture gallery, probably my favorite part aside from the Napoleon III apartments.

Outside the Louvre.

Day Seven: jeudi le 22 avril (Thursday, 22 April)
I pretty much did nothing of interest all day. Hung around the apartment until about 2 pm, when Rachelle left for the airport (she was going to Venice) and I went off in search of alternate lodging. I had a list of hotels I'd found online, but they were either impossible to find (and believe me, I looked and looked) or twice as much as they'd been advertised online. Fortunately, I found a hotel for 60 € a night. Still pretty expensive for just me, as 60 € was, at the time, just under $100 US. (The exchange rate is slightly more favorable this week. I don't know why, but I'm not questioning it.) At any rate, the hotel seemed a wee bit sketchy to me - not dirty or anything, but not clean. There was a hair in the shower. (It's not the hair itself that bothered me, but the fact that it meant the shower might not have been cleaned since The Shedder was there.) But I was too tired to care. I flopped down on the bed, fully intending to rest a minute and then head back out into the city. Ten minutes later, I decided to take a nap until 6:15 (it was around 5). At 6:15, I decided to extend the nap until 6:45. And at 6:45 I just admitted defeat, got under the comforter, and fell asleep. I woke up at 9, changed into my PJs, and went to bed for real, then slept until 10 the next morning. It was glorious.

Day Eight: vendredi le 23 avril (Friday, 23 April)
I headed out around 11 and decided to check out the Luxembourg Palace and Gardens. The gardens were not what I expected. I thought they would be all formal gardens, but most of it was actually a park with tennis courts, playgrounds, courts for boules (similar to bocce, I think), and souvenir/snack kiosks. Near the palace, there were formal gardens and a fountain, and I basked in the sun there for awhile before wandering off in the general direction, I hoped, of Notre Dame and the Pantheon.
Luxembourg Palace and some of the Gardens.

Luckily, I reached the Pantheon pretty easily. Originally constructed as a shrine to Saint Genevieve, Paris's patron saint, the Pantheon was secularized after the Revolution and is now the burial place for many of France's best and brightest; Voltaire, Rousseau, Emile Zola, Victor Hugo, the Curies, and many others are interred in the crypt under the Pantheon.

The interior of the Pantheon.

Once I'd walked around the Pantheon for awhile, I headed down Rue St-Jacques in the direction of Notre Dame, stopping every so often to check out things that looked interesting, like the garden at the Cluny Museum or a random church. When I got to Notre Dame, it looked different than I'd expected:
Notre Dame Cathedral

I hadn't expected it to be right on the river like that. And I dunno, I guess I thought it would be bigger. And I thought there would be stairs leading up to it. Although it's true that I'm basing all these assumptions on a Disney cartoon that I haven't seen in quite some time, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised that it's different from what I'd anticipated.

I walked around inside (it was free!) and then walked up to the roof (it was not free!). The roof was really cool; it had a great view of Paris and of the famous gargoyles that Notre Dame is known for. (Also unlike the Disney movie, these gargoyles did not sing, dance, and make wisecracks. Thanks, Disney, for bolstering the hopes of another generation so that reality falls short of film. Thanks.) They were still pretty cool, though:


Gargoyle at Notre Dame, with the Sacred Heart Basilica way off in the distance on the hill.

After Notre Dame, I took the metro to the Champs-Elysées (Paris's big shopping street) and walked up toward the Arc de Triomphe. I climbed up to the top of that, too (basically in Paris I just climbed to the top of lots of things):

The Arc de Triomphe. It was tough to get a good picture, what with its being located in the middle of a giant traffic circle and all.

View of the Champs-Elysées from the top of the Arc de Triomphe.

It was starting to get late-ish (it was around 7:30) and I wanted to get back to my hotel before dark, since I knew it was located in the general vicinity of the red-light district (although I'd yet to actually see the red-light district.) I took the metro back to Pigalle, which was closer to my hotel than the metro stop I'd been using previously, and it let me off - wouldn't you know it - in the red light district. A street full of sex shops, porno theaters, and peep shows stretched out before me. I almost turned on my heel and headed straight for the hotel, but it was still light out and there seemed to be plenty of non-sketchy people around (businesspeople, other single women, even a couple of families), so I decided to be daring and see if I could find the Moulin Rouge. It was actually almost too easy - straight down the street, one block (and one metro stop) away.
It's actually probably the classiest establishment on the street, apart from Monoprix (a supermarket chain) and McDonald's...which is kind of sad.

Having taken my pictures, I started to get the heebie-jeebies a little bit - I mean, I still felt safe, but I didn't quite feel comfortable - a girl can only take so much leering and weird noises directed at her before she starts to feel a bit iffy. So I went back to the hotel and went to bed.

And that's all for now. I realize that I'm behind and still have two days left to recount for spring break, but I'm absolutely exhausted and really should go to bed. I have a whole free(ish) weekend coming up, though, and hopefully I can get all caught up then. Until next time...!