Fortunately, Jerry and I wrote notes while we were there, just in case we didn't get to writing about our vacation right away. Oh, how well we know each other...
Friday
We arrived in Paris around 10am and, as standard Charles de Gaulle airport experiences go, we got held up by a mod of flight passengers. I swear everyone all over the world (quite literally) had decided that this was the day to visit Paris. There was a massive bottleneck in the teeny tiny luggage trolley area, and we both got very aggravated. We decided to divide and conquer for our luggage; we took separate areas of the WALL of people and picked our way through the masses.
I had forgotten that it is also standard custom at European airports to be introduced to the bouquet of European body odors.
By the time we eked out of the airport mob, Jerry and I were very tired and quite a bit grumpy. And I was trying to navigate the french language for two in my befuddled state of mind. Things only got more frustrating with the RER Station in the airport. The SNCF kiosk stations were not accepting VISAs or bills, so we ended up in a massively long line to talk to someone one-on-one; the line comprised of all tourists, most of whom were not familiar (enough) with the french language. Of course this takes more time, because they have to struggle with hand gestures and pointing at papers frantically to get what they want.
I remember those days. I don't miss them.
When we got to the lady at the front of the line, I prattled off what we wanted in French to the lady, who was happy to refill my Navigo card from 2007, and prize Jerry with a similar card. We were done with her in about 5 minutes, and within another 2 minutes we were on the train to Paris metro. The train ride was peaceful; the car was full of bleary-eyed travelers, just like us. We were entertained by an accordion player, and watched the banlieue pass us by. When we saw the Sacre Coeur hover over our train, I knew we were there.
Getting to the apartment we rented took some time. We had a few transfers to make here and there to get to the right metro stop. So we meandered in the endless hallways underground, which Jerry referenced to be like a French moria (the what?). Jerry's crash course in the Paris Metro was fun; he seemed amused when I showed him that the train doors open only if you lift a little release hook.
Emerging from the Metro station on the streets where I spent 2007, in my state of enraptured studious bliss, made me overcome with emotions. I had felt like I had returned to a home I hadn't been in a long while. Or like I was visiting an old friend I hadn't seen in forever. Ever since I got on my last plane out of Paris, I missed it terribly. There were days where I'd make the Brooklyn streets resemble Paris in my mind. And here I was, again, finally. Back in a romantic city with so many fond memories and nostalgia. And with my lover. I got verclempt.
Of course we got a bit lost trying to find the apartment, but after a little bit, we finally reached Rue de Canettes. The apartment was up a few narrow, twisting staircase in what seemed like (and probably was) a medieval building with rustic Germanic architecture. The studio itself was very small, and clearly very, very old. It was a true pied a terre, with one small room that functioned as living room/bedroom/kitchenette, and a bathroom. The window overlooked the small inlet street that brims with bars (like good old Cafe George) and a few restaurants. We were spitting distance from St. Sulpice.
Jerry and I took a much-needed nap for about 3 hours when we got in. We woke up to start exploring outside, and got immediately caught in rain. Bienvenue a Paris.
We ran into a petit bistro called Le Pre' for a late lunch. And we ate croque monsieur and croque madames with a little cheese plate on the side. Jerry said, "This cheese would be on some of the best plates I would have in NYC...wow!" I explained to him that the restaurant we stopped in it was just a regular, run of the mill place with very ordinary french cheese.
The waiter we had lacked a behind, and I remembered, ah yes...this is how French men are often.
After being full of a good meal, and after the rain let up, I made the executive decision to bring Jerry for a walk around my old haunts. We saw good old Sciences Po, St. Germain des Pres, and walked around to see some of the places I fondly remember stuffing myself with a baguette from time to time. We walked to Laduree, of course (being one of my favorites), and I introduced Jerry to the world of macarons. We got 8 little ones, and ate them instantly. Jerry mentioned that he never understood what the big deal was about macarons, until when I put a fresh Laduree macaron in his mouth.
We walked up to the Seine, and crossed the bridge Pont des Arts - we admired the "padlocks of love" lovers had put on the bridge fences. We enjoyed the sounds of French tourism in front of Notre Dame cathedral, and we walked towards the back and took pictures of the flowers in the garden, and the Memorial de la Deportation.
By now it was getting a bit dark, so we started walking towards St. Michel, where we stopped by to get gelato and Amorino. Jerry almost swooned at its deliciousness. We walked through the bustling Latin Quarter and I explained how this is where a lot of tourists get jipped on semi-decent food. So we kept walking - through the arcade by Odeon - and made our way back to Monoprix. We bought a lot of food so we would be able to cook and eat in on some of the days of our vacation.
That night we went out for pizza.
Saturday
Jerry woke up around 11am, while I struggled to get up. I was feeling less than stellar and pretty grumpy (mostly because of the loud bars in the middle of the night). So I started the day with some yoga while Jerry delved into the world of Lovecraft.
Most of our trip revolved around long, meandering walks around the city. We both feel that it is a great way to truly know a city. So, we walked around St.Sulpice, before stopping by at les Editeurs for another cheese plate.
We took our time and walked to the Jardin de Luxembourg, admiring the beautiful statues and peaceful flora. But not for long. We got very distracted by a pounding music we heard ricochet off of the nearby buildings. So we walked towards the Pantheon and found out there was a Techno Parade going throughout the city. We followed the parade for a few miles, listening to the different vans' electronic taste (some were more industrial/gothic, some were more pop/rock). We stopped by a local fromagerie and got lots of stinky cheese to feast on later, and continued following the Techno Parade, past Sorbonne, CLUNY, and over Ile St Louis. There was a crowd on the bridge, and I asked Jerry if we could step out of the parade for a while. Meanwhile cops started to come over and prepare for what seemed like an ever-growing chaotic crowd. I'm glad we got out early.
We walked along the Rive Droit a bit and talked to some street vendors about comic books. We then walked through Le Marais and got a baguette and croissants. Jerry bought more cheese and ate on the steps of a busy photography exposition. Of course we got more sweets while we walked, and Jerry tried some Berthillon sorbet on St Louis, while I found a place to buy some beloved Muscadet Corse.
Somehow Jerry finds comic book shops wherever he ends up traveling. He's done it easily every time I'm with him somewhere. So, of course, while we walked along the back streets of Paris, we kept finding comic shops.
We stopped for a bathroom emergency at a brasserie in front of CLUNY, and a bitchy old lady served us crappy food and tried to scam us out of our change. This all started because I ran to the bathroom and she went up to Jerry to take his order. He asked if she spoke English, and we were done for. She was one of those crabby elders who strongly disliked Americans, even if for no reason. I talked to her in french, and came to her asking for our change. She looked at me and said, "What change?" I looked at her very disapprovingly, and did the math for her, explaining she owed us 2 euros. She finally cowered at my growing voice, and gave us the change.
We went back to the apartment and ate a plate of our treasures before sleeping.
Sunday
We took this vacation as we should have: as a vacation. We didn't insist on waking up early. We didn't push ourselves to do everything we could possibly think of. We slept in. We slept early. We took our time. We ate good food. I was so happy to not have to feel like we had to run around non-stop.
It didn't help our motivation to see things, though, that it rained most of our trip.
We went to St. Michel for a crepe & jambon tartine (and caffe espresso americain for Jerry). We walked past Odeon Theatre and scaled all of Rue Vaugirard (the longest street in Paris). I brought h Jerry to my old neighborhood in the 15th arrindosement, after a long and arduous walk. Much to my dismay, my beloved Shopi mart had been turned into a Carrefour City. Carrefour?! Pfft.
Nevertheless, we persevered and got bread and a meringe at the boulanger next to my old place, as well as a crepe on the corner. Like old times, the old boulangiere corrected my poor french grammar.
I guided Jerry through my old running route and, SURPRISE!, ended up at the Eiffel Tower! It was so much fun to see Jerry look up at the monstrous building on the esplanade. We took our touristy picture (including Jerry pinching the top of the tower in a picture or two).
There was a family event going on at the esplanade, so we grabbed a few free things, and I walked off with 6 packaged bottles of water. Was that legal? I don't know. I'm American!
We stopped at Cafe les Copiers, which was clearly a tourist trap. The foie gras I had was more like Spam. Jerry had an expensive glass of Bourgogne.
We walked past Hotels des Invalides, and back towards apartment to drop off our booty.
We ate Italian food across the street late at night. Jerry had great a Bolognese, while I enjoyed the Antipasti. We feasted on fantastic Tiramusi.
After filling ourselves, we came back to apartment to relax and reminisce on the days we've enjoyed so far.
Monday
I decided to take a much-needed jog, across the river in the Tuileries. I had an emergency run to the bathroom, where I had to wait in line 10 minutes to go to bathroom at Concord. The door didn't lock, and people kept opening the door while I was in the bathroom. I finally screamed, "Frappez la porte!" (Knock on the door!)
We got lunch at one of my favorite little places to eat in the area, La Pre des Clercs. I insisted that Jerry get with me my favorite salad called La Viscounti. It was absolutely delicious, as I had remembered. Chicken and pesto with cucumber keeping everything together in a neat little pile. We had some white wine to go with the salad, and I got tipsy one glass later. We came back and took a nap.
After resting a bit, we went to l'Arc de Triomphe on the subway, and enjoyed more touristy pictures of us trying to take down and scale the arche. We took our time and relaxed, watching the guards change at the arch. We then walked through L'Etoile and down Champs Elysee and watched all of the tourists admire the concept cars in the boutique shops. We ended up at Angelinas and got hot chocolate, a l'ancienne. With the thick, creamy, incredibly chocolate experience, we were both lulled into silence.
After our lovely chocolate high, we walked past the Louvre and through the Tuileries. To have an omelette at Cafe des Beaux Arts. We walked home very slowly.
Tuesday
We didn't leave the apartment that day until after three. The jetlag was taking a toll on me, and I could feel an intense sinus infection taking over my head and chest. I stocked up at a local pharmacy on some homeopathic drugs that would drain me of the grossness.
We got sandwiches at Paul, over by the arcade, and ate on Ponte des Arts. Jerry enjoyed a prosciutto, tomato and cheese sandwich and a quiche lorraine. I pilferred his quiche.
The Musee de Pompidou was closed on Tuesday, so we decided to keep walking around to find another museum to walk through. We received useless directions from a security guard who had no clue where the Picasso museum was located. As Jerry said, "Given the use of both hands and a map he probably could not have located the museum if it were housed in a boil on his ass."
We wandered the Rive Droit for a treacherously long time trying to find the Musee Picasso, only to discover that the museum was closed for renovation until....2012?! No rush, guys...
Jerry was fully prepared then to describe the intricacies of how much the French suck at restoration and take-out food, but looked at me and realized that I was on the verge of death. So we walked back to our apartment, ever so slowly. When I don't feel well, my leg speed is the telltale sign.
I slept in the apartment in a drowsy trip while Jerry enjoyed reading and wine at a nearby cafe. He went out valiantly to get me some take-out food, but that found, much to his dismay, most french restaurants don't actually DO take-out. I tried to warn him, but he told me he wanted to find something for me to eat. He also found out, tragically, that despite the french boasting their skills at language and being relevant in modern society, most of them don't know a drop of english. He struggled to find food, and finally found Japanese and Greek restaurants that, of course, took out.
Wednesday
I was feeling much better after a day of rest. So we decided that Wednesday would be the Louvre day. We happily walked and stood in the long line to get into the opening museum. The line outside the glass pyramind grew steadily as we stood there. Clearly we were in the right place to be.
This was also the first day that the sun shone on us in Paris, and we were happy that it was finally warm, instead of cold and rainy.
We got our tickets for the Louvre, and headed to the Sully annex where we walked through the history of the Louvre section. Jerry and I marveled at the immense castle walls and moat we scuttled through. We joked around a lot while walking through the museum, and Jerry sang about being a little tea pot while swimming as a peasant under the moat.
(This is when you can tell Jerry wrote some of our travel notes)
Jerry noticed that, instead of having bilingual signs, or including transcriptions for each picture in widely known languages at the Louvre, they posted all of their signs in French. I tried to save the day by providing instantaneous line by line translations on the fly, in hopes that they would be understandable and Jerry would be able to get a better artistic experience.
We gawked at the Egyptian status, Greek statues and Renaissance paintings.
The Medieval paintings, we found, had three basic themes:
1. Virgin Mary with child.
2. Jesus crucified.
3. Saints of one sort or another, usually dying horribly.
We also saw David and Goliath, Christ's ascension, the Annunciation and the final judgment. We both decided that the paintings were quite dull and unimaginative.
Other art pieces we saw include: Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, Winged Victory, Psyche and Cupid, Hermes, and "that French Revolution painting". We finished what we wanted to see in a record of five hours, and after seeing a bunch of Japanese tour groups crowding the hallways, we decided to leave.
We went into the Tuileries and I slept on the grass while Jerry read some more. We snacked on treats from the nearby Paul stand.
We walked to Angelina for another day of decadent hot chocolate.
From there, we walked to Palais Royale where we got the metro to Montmartre. We first stopped to eat some fondue at Le Refuges des Fondues. We had a hearty cheese fondue, and sucked wine from baby bottles. We continued up the hill via tram. It was just newly nighttime, and we had a beautiful look of all of Paris below us. It was incredibly romantic, and we watched in silence for a while.
We went to the Sacre Coeur, and decided to attend their candlelit service. We listened to French liturgy by nuns. It was beautiful, emotional and melodious. We sat in somber silence and relished in the sacredness of some places. I have always loved the Sacre Couer, atop its hill overlooking Paris.
After a romantic night of city-gazing, we went back to rest. And listen to elephants above our room.
~~~
Unfortunately, we didn't write any notes for our last two days in Paris.
But I do know that we took a day to go to the Catacombes in Paris. It is always fascinating for me to go underground and see the world that some people knew. It was dark and dank, as usual, and Jerry and I enjoyed a few hours of looking at crossbones and skulls lined up ever so neatly all around us.
We stopped by a Starbucks for an easy sip of tea before heading off on our way.
That night we saw Pierre, Nicholas and Pierre's wife for dinner at their place one night. We at first thought we had been stood up, since no one was at Pierre's home at the time when the invitation I received online said. So we wondered through the 14th arr. to find a cyber cafe, and, after much frustration, finally found a little cafe where I found an email of a frantic Pierre having just realized his blunder.
We got back to his apartment, and were greeted by hugs and wine, and wonderful smells. His apartment is in a military apartment unit, since his wife and him are both part of the Ministry of Defense. A charming apartment, with a view of the Eiffel Tower? Not bad! Luckily, Jerry got to see the tower sparkle before our trip was over. We relaxed and chatted on old times and current events, while Pierre and his wife made dinner for us all.
It was nice to see my old friends again. Now we are older, and maybe a bit wiser, and more able to appreciate each other's company. I had missed those guys, and their heavy banter was so enjoyable to listen to. Pierre and Jerry shared stories of Seattle and Portland, and I admired his wife's pictures of their travels around the world.
The dinner was absolutely amazing. Real home-cooked French dinners are always my panultimum favorite. And they delivered a glorious stew and salad. The cheese plate at the end was so good I could have cried, and the dessert was a strawberry creme dish that was amazing. I remember feeling so stuffed to the brim that I could have cried, but the conversation was too good for me to actually cry. I was just immensely full of food and good company. It was a wonderful night.
On one of the last nights we were there, we met up with Marion and Thomas, my dear dear friends. I loved seeing them, Marion coming in from her semester at military school, and Thomas taking a break from his civil servant exams. We walked around and found a little wine bar where we had some wine (and Orangina) and chatted about what had been going on in our lives. Jerry was excited to talk with Marion about her military experiences, and I was just happy to be among old friends.
We ended that night by finding a little creperie by Odeon and eating crepes in the rain before we all parted ways.
One the last day we were there, it was raining. Jerry and I felt satisfied enough, and took the day to relax, eat whatever food we felt we wanted to leave remembering the most, and reading. We sat in cafes with tea/coffee, and pastries until the day was done. We finished the outrageously smelly cheeses we had stored in our little fridge, and cleaned up after ourselves in the apartment.
The day we left Paris, of course the RER trains were not working properly. Luckily we had left super early to get to the airport. We were rerouted twice, and ended up having to take a 30-minute busride standing to the airport. We dropped off our luggage and checked in, and sat in the waiting area happy, rested yet tired, and sad to have to leave our wonderful trip behind.
The next time we're in Paris, we'll get to see more.
This time, leaving Paris wasn't so tragic. I felt better, like I had more closure and a sense that I was going away from Paris again, but it wasn't going to be such a painful goodbye. Next time I won't be aching as much for Paris. But I do still love that city, dearly.
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