Paris 2012

15 June Somewhere over the Black Sea

It’s 9:05 am Perth time and we’ve both slept well. The trouble is it’s actually 3:05am in Paris and we have another 3 hours of flight left. In between sleeping, we have watched a couple of movies each and consumed far too many calories.

By a quirk of fate, we are flying Business Class on Malaysia Airlines. Originally, we booked some Premium seats on Air Asia, lovely lie down comfy seating, but otherwise lacking in too many frills. Air Asia pulled out of the KL to Paris leg and accommodated us by giving us Business Class on MAS. The trouble is, we will be unable to sustain this standard of luxury in the future and this trip is going to spoil us.

The two hours waiting for boarding was spent in the comfort of the lounge, where at least we didn’t go overboard on food, but certainly did graze on the chicken vol au vents, pasta, cheeses, sweets etc, not to mention a glass or so of red wine and even one of champagne. We felt quite content when boarding the plane for a 11:35pm take off. Once leveled out, they started plying us with more food; chicken and beef satay sticks, salmon with mango salsa, a choice of four mains, a selection of breads and a fruit platter. A selection of excellent wines was offered as well. We felt really put out that we had to refuse much of what was on offer. Still, there is breakfast to come later.

The comfort level is quite superb and the attention of the cabin staff is absolutely amazing. Every time anything of significance is about to happen, the hot scalding towels come out. We juggle them to drop the temperature by a few degrees then revel in their cleansing warmth. I know this description is over the top but when you have been in the same clothes for a fair while such luxuries become important.

Breakfast came with two hours of flight left. I really cannot comprehend that I have been 11 hours on a plane and regret the fact that we have only two hours left. This is a wonderful way to live, let alone fly. I also marvel at the fact that the lightest most tasty omelet I have ever encountered actually came from airline food. It was so good, I worry that it is chemically infused with something that will give me bowel/stomach/pancreatic/liver cancer…. but then so does everything.

15 June Paris

For a YouTube video of our time in Paris click here.

Another good thing about Business Class travel is that your luggage is first off the plane. This was good in that we had our bags before the real crowd arrived at the carousel; bad in that we were still missing our two luggage trolleys. We waited patiently until the crowd thinned and departed with their prizes in tow, growing all the more anxious about our beloved luggage trolleys. Eventually, they were discovered sitting on a special luggage cart all of their own, hidden behind the main carousel. With the weather outside sitting at 14 degrees and raining, we had to locate some different clothes and umbrellas in our luggage and rearrange things a bit.

Luggage organized and wheeled-up, we set off to find the Metro station to begin the tricky journey into Paris and our hotel. Since we landed and emerged in Terminal 1, we had to catch a shuttle train to Terminal 2 to pick up the REM. Christine found a helpful ticket attendant and we purchased our Metro tickets and a set of instructions for the three changes of train needed to take us to the Opera District and Rue de La Fayette.

We followed the escalators down to platform 24 as directed and as we neared the bottom, a train pulled in. “This is it!” I exclaimed and lurched forward, swinging my heavy bag and trolley aboard.

A loud bang sounded behind me and a muffled “Shit!” was heard from outside. Christine’s bag lay on the carriage floor but she was on the outside with the doors firmly snapped shut. “I’ll get the next train!” she called as I pulled away, never to see her again. This was a defining moment. I had a phone that worked in Paris (which she didn’t) but I had a wallet full of Malaysian Ringgits and no Euros. She had plenty of Euros but no phone. I had a map of the Metro system whereas she only had a conversation with the attendant and a terrible memory for names and places.

I got out at the next station and waited. To kill the 8 minutes before the next rain, I took a few snaps. I was immediately approached by a Frenchman who wanted help with catching a train to Gare du Nord. My first startled reaction was a “Sorry?” in English, to which he rolled his eyes and sauntered away. Suddenly aware that I could actually help, I used my bad high school French to call him back and show him a map and indicate the correct platform. I might have lost my wife for good but at least I could help the locals.

The next train pulled in and rattled past my position at the head of the platform. I gave it a few moments then went to board but heard Christine yelling from the far end. We went into slow motion, dropped everything and re-united in passionate embrace on a lonely station platform somewhere in Paris. Actually, we walked up and said something like “Shit! That was scary.” and got over it.

The next three train changes were a blur of crushing crowds and lugging the bags up huge stairs. We managed all without a hitch, finally emerging at Poisonierre Station only 100metres or so from our lodgings, the Comfort Hotel La Fayette. The lady on the front desk was very helpful and promised to get our room ready early seeing as we’d come from KL that morning. It would be available by 11am, giving us a couple of hours to kill, so we left our bags and wandered the Opera District.

The endless lines of old apartment buildings left us almost speechless. They are a testament to both the wonderful skills of the original builders and the renovation skills of the modern owners that they can be made so useable by today’s standards yet retain so much character of a bygone era. On our travels, we found a mobile phone shop and negotiated the purchase of a Pre-paid SIM that would give us phone calls back to Australia and some local data while in France. The shame is that we will need a new SIM in each European country. Still, a 10Euro payment gave us enough for a week in France and it meant we had Google maps available at all times on the streets. At one stage, I asked the man if the chip would give coverage in Bordeaux.

He looked puzzled and asked, “Where?”

“Bordeaux”, I replied. Again he looked puzzled but then saw the light.

“Ah! Bordeaux! Yes it will work there.” he said with a look of amusement at my appalling pronunciation.

Later, Christine asked the hotel front desk girl where we could buy a train ticket to Bordeaux.

“Where?” asked the girl.

“Bordeaux” repeated Christine. The girl still looked very puzzled so Christine started to spell “B…O…R…D..”

“Ah!” exclaimed the girl, “Bordeaux”, allowing the faintest whisper of air to rasp across the top of her palate on the first syllable. She told us to go to Gare du Nord and we left feeling very inadequate.

The hotel room proved small but very clean and well laid out. Combined with the location and price (80Euros a night), it is a bargain. The afternoon was spent with a bit of Internet research on travel and accommodation for Bordeaux, our next stop after Paris. Then we lay down for a short nap…and woke up 4 hours later.

The extended twilight takes some getting used to, but we headed out at 9pm for a bite to eat, finding a wonderful place that specialised in organic Pizzas. The prices in Paris will certainly curtail our heavy food intake, although we eased things a bit by stocking up at a supermarket with enough essentials to enable us to lunch in the Hotel. Eating and drinking opportunities abound on every street, but the thought of spending 30 to 40 Euros a meal is too much after our time in Asia. Eating and drinking less won’t hurt us.

Saturday 16 June

Another wet day in Paris, even wetter than the previous one. We tucked into a hearty breakfast and caught up on news via the Internet before heading out into the hustle and bustle of the city. I read up on all the likely scams and pickpocket scenarios, most of which occur near the popular tourist sites and rail stations. Our first stop was to be the huge Gard du Nord to buy some train tickets to Bordeaux so it was well to be forewarned. Just as well too, because as we entered, a dark haired young woman with a shawl (saying gypsy is politically incorrect) approached with a piece of paper in hand asking if we spoke English. Even from a distance I could tell that the piece of paper contained a tear-jerking story of her mother lying dying of cancer in a hospital in a far off land. But the woman lacked the money to travel home for her Mum’s last moments. Christine affirmed that we spoke English but I grabbed her and said, “No we don’t”, before going on into the station.

The Gard du Nord is a wonderful place to visit, even if one doesn’t want to catch a train. The architecture is nothing short of stunning, with a stone facade that defies imagination. Inside, the huge arching roof and wonderful old steel trusses make a perfect lofty environment for the ever present flocks of pigeons. Below sit the endless lengths of streamlined trains, all waiting to disappear to all corners of the globe, and somewhere, Monsieur Hercule Poirot is waiting to board a train full of intrigue and murder. Well, not quite… but the atmosphere is certainly there.

We wandered around, got in a few wrong queues, tried to read a guide to the TGV in French and somehow managed to find the right place to buy our tickets. We did approach one “help desk” and asked the very attractive young lady to explain the difference between 1^st Class and 2^nd Class besides being double the cost. She smiled beautifully, obviously keen to help, but looked to a co-worker for assistance with the language. After conferring, she turned and said in passable English, “First Class is better.” She had the good humour to laugh along with us.

Clutching our 2nd Class tickets (to Bordeaux) and 73€ each the poorer, we pushed on into the Metro to catch a local train one stop to the banks of the Seine. We emerged into rain, surrounded by people and buildings. Google Maps said we were within 120m of the river, but we couldn’t see it. With a choice of four compass points to choose, we chose all three wrong ones before finally reaching the river. In the confines of the narrow streets surrounded by five and six storey buildings, the GPS on the iPhone is very slow to react so it takes a bit of walking before you realise you’re going the wrong way. Once at the river bank, things worked better, with the GPS getting better access to the sky.

We used an App to follow a set walk, starting at the famous Pont Neuf or New Bridge. Commenced in 1578, it is no longer new. The steady rain made things difficult, juggling umbrella, camera, iPhone and watching out for pickpockets and scammers. Thankfully, all the sellers and scammers seemed put off by the rain because we were left along to do our thing.

We followed the river along, past La Conciergerie where Marie Antoinette set up shop waiting for her head to be removed, and on to La Sainte-Chapelle. The lines of people waiting to enter were too much and we pushed on, happy to see the outside of these famous places.

Notre Dame came into full view, smaller than I imagined, but still awe inspiring. It is beyond belief that people in the 12^th Century could build such a structure. To stand in front of this place and know that you are in the same place as people such as Henry V and VI, Joan of Arc, numerous French Kings, Napoleon and Napoleon III. Once again, the crowds put us off going in. There were standing shoulder to shoulder for miles. We took a while to move around the outside of the cathedral, stopping to take photos and marvel at the ever changing architecture. Having taken 200 years to build, a variety of architects and styles were employed.

On the Pont St Louis, we were amused by the sight of thousands of pad-locks, each bearing the inscribed name of a pair of lovers/spouses/friends and all securely attached to the railings of the bridge. There were key locks, tumble locks, bike locks and more, all without keys or combinations, bearing testimony to undying love. I wonder how many couples are still together.

Near Notre Dame, an emotional memorial to the millions of victims of concentration camps has been established, reminding visitors of a past Europe that must never return.

We pushed on through the drizzle happy that we weren’t part of the many organised tour groups we passed. We had more flexibility to dodge the main showers or seek shelter when needed. Our tour App took us into a wonderful food street where we purchased some very tasty beef rolls for lunch, gazed through the window of an amazing cheese shop (not the Monty Python kind) and peeked enviously into a rather exclusive chocolate shop. The rain eased long enough for us to eat our lunch overlooking the Seine and its river traffic.

We sauntered back along the Rue de Rivoli to find a Metro that would take us back home, entering one department store along the way but leaving with the thought that shopping is just shopping. The idea of coming to Paris and not being interested in shopping would horrify many (mostly women) but there you have it. From what we have seen, the shops are more of the same, only bigger, with prices to match.

As we exited Gard du Nord, a dark looking man approached asking if we spoke English. Another denial and we scurried on. This time he looked Nigerian. A brief afternoon nap once again turned into a heavy sleep and I awoke feeling totally exhausted. We had a few olives and bits of cheese with a glass of wine before heading out for dinner. However, I found it hard to be motivated, feeling too tired, so we skipped the meal and had an early night in.

 

17 June – Paris

Today was one of the best days touring we have every had, if not THE best. We set off about 10am, walking the length of Rue la Fayette to the Opera District and the famed Galleries la Fayette. These are huge department stores specialising in the big names of fashion. Fortunately, being a Sunday, all was closed and the area was very quiet, making for am easy and very enjoyable walk. The Opera houses are wonders of architecture, but then so is every building in Paris. I still can’t quite come to grips with the sheer wealth that produced all these buildings, mostly within a 200 year span.

As we neared the Metro station, we were continually approach by young dark haired women asking if we spoke English. Most were carrying clipboards. A Google search of “Gypsy with Clipboard” gives an entertaining account of the many scams one can encounter, usually outside Metro Stations.

After a couple of changes of trains, we emerged from the underground at Champ de Mars, Tour Eiffel, to join the other 95% of the population thronging around the Eiffel Tower. Just outside the Metro, there was one of those unisex self-cleaning street toilets with a line of people about 15 long. We used one of these down in in Rue de Rivoli yesterday and it took at least 3 minutes between uses. This would give a wait time of at least 45 minutes for the people in this line. Madness. However, the line to the toilet was nothing compared to the line to the Tower. Only one of the elevators on the Tower was operational, making a bad situation nearly impossible. The line to the stairs was better but still bad. We spoke to someone who had used the stairs to the Second Level. They had arrived at 8am and still waited an hour in line.

Going up the Eiffel Tower is a must do but we decided to retreat gracefully on this occasion and return later with a new strategy. There are options that will give you a quick entrance (around 60€) as part of a tour or we can come back for the night view.

We wandered the length of the Champs de Mars, the old military training ground, stopping regularly to take pictures and video the tower from all angles. It certainly is impressive, more impressive than beautiful in my opinion. When it was first built, it was so hated by Parisians that property values in the area dropped dramatically. Needless to say, the area is now one of the highest priced. The Champs de Mars was packed with Sunday picnics and joggers. It seemed like most of Paris had come out to revel in the glorious sunshine and 20 degree warmth. As we walked through the nearby streets, we found that all the sidewalk cafes were just as crowded and the smaller parks equally full. We sat for a while in a small park and watched the many groups of scouts and guides sitting circles and playing games.

The highlight of the day came at 2pm when we joined in a Segway Tour group, run by the Fat Tire Bike Tours. This was to be a three hour tour, after a half hour orientation and training session. The Segways themselves are rather easy to manage, even though they don’t have any throttle or brake. You accelerate forward by leaning forward and slow down or stop by leaning back. The handle is like a giant joy stick and steering is a simple left or right movement. The only slightly tricky bit is parking. To do this, one needs to find a kerb or wall to lean the Segway against, otherwise it will simply travel away without you. Parking then, means approaching a wall, dismounting backwards in a fluid continuous motion and easing the Segway forward until it sits against the wall. If you just get off with one foot resting on the ground, the Segway tries to turn around your legs, creating a comical scene. Christine managed to muck this up a few times, much to the amusement of those around. Our tour guide, Stephanie, was a young Canadian who spoke brilliant French and used her skills and training as a Kindergarten teacher to keep us all in line. She took a particular shine to Christine and picked on her at every opportunity.

Initially, the Segways themselves were the highlight. As we got used to them, they rapidly became just a means to an end, as we toured many of the wonderful landmarks of Paris. The Segways are a fast and convenient way of moving around, travelling from one landmark to the next along the fantastic network of cycle paths that Paris has built up. Segway riders are classed as pedestrians so we followed footpaths and cycle ways rather than roads. They are easy to maneuver in crowds. Although the speed has to drop away accordingly.

We visited the Ecole Militaire, the old Military School built by Louis XV and attended by Napoleon. Then it was on to Napoleon’s Tomb, the Invalides and along the glorious Esplanade des Invalides to the Pont Alexandre III. All the way, Stephanie was a mine of information, delivered in a very entertaining style.

We took a short break in the Place de la Concorde, scene of the guillotine setup during the dark days of the French Revolution. As with everywhere else, this huge square was filled with people, just out enjoying the sun. Everyone seemed very relaxed and jovial. Then it was off to the Louvre, the scale of which completely surprised me. Where many of the sights have actually been on a slightly smaller scale than I had imagined, the Louvre is so much bigger. I guess it is because no one photo could capture the scale of the building itself.

On the way back, we stopped once again in the Champs de Mars to gaze at the Eiffel Tower. Stephanie was full of some amazing facts and figures, including the staggering idea that the structure paid for itself in the first 6 months of operation. Beats the Perth Bell Tower.

It was with regret that we handed back our Segways. Not only had we had a huge amount of fun gliding sedately through the streets of Paris, we had had a terrific overview tour of many of the main sites. We had outlaid just over $A100 for the two of us but it was worth every cent. I can’t recommend this tour too highly if you every get to Paris.

Back in Rue la Fayette, the urge for a beer, even at Paris prices, proved too much, and we stopped in at a little bar and cafe near our hotel. The owner spoke only French, but he still insisted on introducing us to his wife and several other customers. We tried a bit of talk but nothing really worked that well. He let us taste the on-tap beers before making a choice (try that in Perth) and we enjoyed a couple of very tasty Belgian beers before parting with our 12€ and heading for our hotel. Later, we popped back out for a pizza.

 

Monday 18 June

Today was a museum day. The weather was cool again, overcast but not raining once the sun rose. We planned a series of three museum visits and set off reasonably early to walk the 2.5 km to the Louvre. We could have taken a Metro but we figured the walk would be pleasant. Later in the day, we would come to regret the decision, having walked well over 10km by the end of it.

The Louvre was crowded on arrival, but not unbearable so and the line to the entrance via the famous glass pyramid moved at a good pace. We bought a general entrance ticket for 10€ each and set off in the general direction of the Mona Lisa. No guidebook was needed to do this because all one has to do is follow the stream of people. We walked along halls and corridors, filled with wonderful statues and paintings. Our combined knowledge of the art world is less than our understanding of ice skating techniques but it’s not hard to appreciate the skill and abilities of all the Renaissance painters whose work we saw. We certainly seemed to know more than one woman, who passed by a 15^th Century painting depicting a woman surrounded by servants and announced to her children, “Oh look! That’s the Mona Lisa!”

We gazed in wonder at the beautifully painted ceilings and wandered through the endless displays of priceless art works, all just hanging on the walls and protected from the public by nothing more than a thin barrier rope.

Many of the visitors seemed to be simple tourists like ourselves, while others were more serious students of art and stood with guide-book in hand making an intense study of one piece. Sometimes, a string of Japanese would come through the crowd like a runaway train, the engine being marked by a flag waving leader. They moved fast and with a purpose, but they seldom stopped to actually look.

Finally, we found Moaning Lisa. There she was, smiling “the smile” over a sea of camera waving worshippers. I contented myself with using the camera zoom and seeing the picture from a fair way off. We were both shocked at just how small it is. I had assumed it was at least a big painting but it is really quite small and insignificant in the surroundings it is in. I guess it has something special but we didn’t see it. Perhaps it contains secret codes to herald the end of the World.

We wandered through a few other galleries, enjoying the 18^th & 19^th Century French section, more for the wonderful insights into French life of the times than for the artistic achievements of the painters. Everything looked good to us. Once away from the Mona Lisa, the crowd had thinned to very comfortable levels and we were free to explore with ease. The sheers scale of the Louvre is such that it can accommodate many thousands of people at a time, without over taxing its resources.

From the Louvre, we walked down the Rue de Rivoli towards the Marais District. This is “Old Paris” bearing many remaining medieval buildings. After a stop for a baguette and salad lunch, we sought out a museum called Musee Carnavalet, which houses displays of furniture and costumes through the ages, with one room set up for each time period. It was another walk of 2.5km from the Louvre but it was interesting enough. We followed Google Maps into the narrow winding streets of the Marais and finally located the museum, to find that it only shut one day a week…Mondays. We retreated to a small nearby park to regroup and reassess, finding ourselves surrounded by beautiful buildings that were once home to Louis X111 and his friends back in the early 17^th Century. The walls may have looked a little wobbly in places, but the basic structure was still sound and very much in use as apartments and shops.

So it was off to find a Metro station to cross town once again to Les Invalides, originally a military hospital built by Louis XIV but now a military museum and last resting place of Napoleon. Here we found the biggest collection of killing and maiming devices one could possibly imagine. There were whole storerooms filled with suits of armour, both for people and for horses. Rows of cannon adorned the courtyards and all manner of hand guns and rifles were in abundance. In the WW1 and WW2 displays, there was a lot of supporting film footage and some very graphic and sobering displays of life in the trenches. The displays don’t seek to glorify war, they simply seemed to display the history. It was a fascinating history, and the artistry of the medieval armourers was a real surprise. Some of the suits were every bit as spectacular as those depicted in romantic films of the times.

Napoleon’s tomb is housed in the spectacular Chapel Saint Jean. This amazing structure was built on orders of Louis XV, who did not want to go to church with his subjects. It is capped with a huge ornate dome, the inside of which is painted in the classical style. Apparently, on entering for the first time, Louis looked around and said, “The roof is too high. Lower it,” and left. The architect, knowing this to be impossible, built another false dome under the first, so from the inside it appears lower. Louis was satisfied but still only visited the church three times anyway.

Later, Napoleon was entombed there so at least the grandeur of the building finally served a fitting purpose.

 

With aching feet and a feeling of being “museumed out” we used the Metro to return to our hotel area and headed back to our local bar for a couple of beers. As we left, we found oursleves quite pickled, after only two beers each. Are we getting soft in our old age? Later, we saw the same beer, a Belgian Affligem and the alcohol content was 8.9%. No wonder! We picked up a few bits and pieces at a supermarket to make a meal in our room and collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

This was the last of Paris for a few weeks and we leave with the knowledge that there is a great deal left to see and do. Even a full week in Paris would only touch the surface but we have loved our first visit and look forward to a return. I wouldn’t want to live here; finding the closed in nature of the streets and buildings rather claustrophobic. The famed street dining and cafe atmosphere was very expensive and often of ordinary quality or lacking variety. What we did find good was service, always with a welcome greeting and smile. Regardless, Paris is an absolute MUST for any traveller and we found its reputation to be very well deserved.