This is originally dated 7/12/2005


OK, will try to give an overview of our 5 days in Paris, without giving you a blow by blow narrative of us being tourists.  I'll include some of that, too, though.  I'm hoping that this is more of a travelog of the unusual, funny, or weird things that happen that turn a vacation into an adventure.  But  the touristy stuff is inevitable.

Let's back up a bit.  My husband has the week of the 4^th of July off every year, and we usually go away somewhere.  I'm usually the one who spends hours on the internet, pricing different options, exploring different avenues, then we usually do the same old thing, like going to Dive Dive Dive in the Bahamas(nothing wrong with that, it is a wonderful place) or to the NC mountains.  This year, in December, I turned the task over to my husband, Ed.  He grumbled a bit but said he'd do it and surprise me.  The man can't keep a secret for anything.  I opened up my very romantic handmade Valentine's day card (another tradition, another story for another day) and out tumbled the itinerary for our stay in Paris.  I burst into tears and probably blubbered for half an hour. He wasn't sure if I was pleased or not.  Through my tears I tried explaining how happy I was.  So we've been anticipating this for awhile.

I used to live in Germany.  My dad was an army officer and I spent 6^th, 7^th, and 8^th grade in Frankfurt.  My mom made sure that I was a well traveled kid.  I went to Paris twice while we lived there.  I remember seeing the Mona Lisa.  I remember the vastness and opulence of Versailles.  We ate Thanksgiving dinner at the USO in Paris.  But I was a kid.  I was looking forward to seeing this through adult eyes.  It was my husband's first European trip.  Needless to say, we were very excited. I will also admit to having more than a little trepidation.  Don't the French hate Americans?  Aren't they all really snobby and rude to those who can't speak their language? Will we be looked down on, snubbed, ridiculed?  I'd had thoughts of getting a Canadian flag lapel pin or wearing a pin with a big slash through George Bush's face, but in the end decided not to.

I'm always a nervous wreck before I travel.  I was that way before 9/11, even worse afterwards.  I've actually missed 2 different flights in 2 different cities by being late to the airport (wasn't my fault, really) so it is always in the back of my head that something bad is going to happen.  My husband is used to me freaking out by now, but we somehow got to the airport in plenty of time, without us fussing at each other at all (OK, without me fussing at him at all.)  The trip started on a high note when I was carded when I ordered a beer with my burger. I'm 42.  Tee-hee. That brightened an already great day.  I have a hard time sleeping anywhere except in a bed, but thanks to my doctor-prescribed sleeping pills (and a couple glasses of red wine)  I was able to get some sleep on the way over.

We flew into Charles deGaulle.  Not sure when it was built, but it sure is ugly.  Reminds me of the older parts of JFK.  And it is overwhelming.  Easy trip through immigration and customs.  Then you get to the outside portion, where people wait in line to check in, and there's very little room to maneuver.  Very colorful, every nationality in the world, every language, everyone's crammed together trying to pull luggage or push luggage carts in too cramped quarters.  A bizarre bazaar of humanity.  My husband has a rather delicate nose and is fond of deodorant, so the first whiffs of those who do not have the same need to cover up naturally occurring body odor was, well, interesting.  But we didn't encounter that nearly as often as we thought we would during our trip.

My husband had booked us into a 4-star hotel, which probably surprised him as much as me.  We're both careful (tight, stingy....OK, I can make a dollar scream) with money: he is a purchasing manager, his job is to buy stuff.  The better he is at his job the more money he makes.  I enjoy seeing how much I can get for as little as possible.  I get great joy out of my thrift store finds.  It's more than just a habit, it's a lifestyle.  The more I save in one area the more I can indulge in another (I save on clothes, splurge on CDs.)   The Hotel du Louvre is right next to the Louvre, right down from the Opera, within walking distance of lots of different points of interest.  It was a great location.  We had hoped for an early check-in, to nap and catch up, but it was not to be.  So instead we headed out and explored.  We  were out for awhile and stopped back by the hotel but our room was still not ready.  We grabbed our luggage and changed into shorts because we were burning up.  I felt sorry for the help.  They were all in long sleeves and it was hot.   The weather was crazy while we were there, at least to us from Florida, where the weather's the same for months on end.  Burning up the first day, needed shorts.  Chilly the next few days, needed coats.  Would go from shorts weather  to needing a coat weather within a few hours. Windy.  Some rain.  Gee, reading this over  I guess its normal, in many places, to have changing weather patterns.  Kinda like Austin in March.  We're just not used to it and it was a novelty. 

 It was for the best that we didn't sleep in the afternoon, it would have made jet lag recovery that much worse.  As it was we had a pleasant afternoon strolling around, going thru Notre Dame and Saint Chapelle and walking along the Seine.  Is there any way to put into words how beautiful this city is? Everywhere you look there’s an amazingly large, spectacularly beautiful, ornate but orderly designed  really old building.  You walk along the street and look over and buttresses are flying.  Oh, another cathedral.  Oh, another jaw dropping bit of architecture. How old is that?  Been around 800 years.  Oh.  It is unbelievable and for me, with my limited powers of expression, indescribable.

  Also saw some neat cars.  Most of the cars in Paris are small, but nothing like the Smartcar. Also saw a compact type Mercedes with a hatchback, not available in the states, obviously.  Unlike NYC, most of the cars were in fairly good shape.  They weren't full of dings and dented bumpers.  Which is surprising considering how they drive. They don't have the protective extra armored grills on their front bumpers, either.

Finally got checked into the hotel.  It's a very old building; we get off the elevator and walk down the carpeted hall and the floor squeaks at every step. We get to our room and can't get any of the lights to turn on. After turning on and off all the light switches in the place, we find there is a master switch by the exit door.  Very clever.  When you leave you don't have to go around turning off all the lights, just hit one and they all go out. The room is very nicely furnished, if on the small side by American standards.  The space is used wisely.   In the bathroom we found something different.  

 You have to step up to get into the bathtub/shower, and there is no shower curtain or sliding door.  Instead, there is a glass door that swings back and forth, like a door, but only goes back halfway through the tub.  And there is no seal at the bottom.  When you shower, the water runs down the glass, and half the water goes into the tub and the other half drips onto the floor.  There is a drain in the middle of the floor, but the floor is not really sloped towards the drain so the water just sits.  You put your bathmat down and it gets soaked so when you get out of the shower you're standing on a wet, squishy mat.  Oh, and the hot water was entertaining.  You set the temperature in the shower for what you think is a warm shower, wait for the water to warm up and hop in.  Well, the water keeps getting hotter and hotter and hotter, so you have to jump out of the way to keep from getting scalded.  So, you turn the temp down, just a bit, no change. A bit further, its still burning up.  A bit further, then freezing water is coming out of the pipes.  Your entire shower is a dance in and out of hot and cold water. We couldn't get the temperature right, so we learned to dance instead.  Another part of the adventure.  But the towels were wonderful, about 4'x 6'.  Pure bliss.  And they had wonderful fuzzy terry robes.  And the sheets were (gasp) pressed.

So, our first night out, I dig out our guidebook and find a recommended restaurant that I thought was not too far from us.  Its off  Rue Sebastapol, which I take as a good sign. (One of my favorite artists, Jay Farrar, has a CD called Sebastapol) Trying to look as chic and Frenchlike as possible,  I pull on a new skirt that I bought to go with my cool thrift store blouse and slipped on some cute embroidered flats.  I have delicate feet and sensible shoes are what usually adorn my feet, but I figured we wouldn't be walking far.  And looking around, many many French women are walking around on the cobblestones in high-heeled, pointy toed shoes, and they're not wearing hose either.  What's a little pair of flats?  Big mistake.  Our quick outing to dinner turned into a two hour walk. We never find the restaurant in question, but enjoy the exploration.  A huge blister developed on my little left toe which affected the rest of our trip.  We stopped and got bandages and it helped a bit. It didn't stop us, but it did slow us a little and caused me to curse myself quite a lot.  Stu-pid, stu-pid. (Stupide, Idiote, Maroon)  I know better. ( The same damned thing happened in Cozumel a few years ago.  First night out, too many margaritas, new sandals, walk back to hotel, painful blister on toe.)  So we end our first night like we do on subsequent evenings.  We stop at a local grocery, get snacks for the next day,  a bottle of red wine and some good dark chocolate.  Great way to end the evening. On the new Andrew Bird record there is a song called 'Tables and Chairs' and the song has the line, "There will be snacks, there will be snacks."  That became our catch phrase for the trip.

We had good intentions about going out and doing things at night.  They had tons of cool stuff happening right around us, for example, the second night we were there Gregorian monks were chanting at Notre Dame.  Most of the cathedrals had classical music performances in the evenings.  Unfortunately, after a long day of being a tourist, neither of us had any energy to do anything except eat and go to sleep.  The sloth family strikes!

The next day we did the double decker tourist bus, which takes you from place to place. You can get off and get back on a later bus. They give you headphones and you plug them in and dial in your language and you get your history while being driven around.  A lot of it was bull, but it made for interesting listening.   We get off at the Eiffel Tower and spend several hours there. The view is incomparable.  Just awe-inspiring. There are 3 different platforms on the Tower. We take the elevator to the top.  Both my husband and I are afraid of heights, so we clung to each other on the elevator ride to the top, my eyes clenched, my stomach in my throat.  At the top I inched around by holding onto the wall, but bravely did go to the edge  and take photos. (Its fully enclosed with fencing so there's no danger of falling but its still terrifying.)   My toe wasn't bothering me that much, so we decide to walk down from the second landing instead of waiting for the elevator. A thousand or so steps later we're back on the ground.  We switch buses and the driver is trying to tell us something but we didn't quite understand.  We understood what he meant when he stopped in the French Quarter and told everyone to get off the bus.  It was 7 o'clock, his shift was over. We started walking again.  We were on the other side of Notre Dame so I was able to get some lovely photos.

  We walked along the river (there's a walkway right along the river and a sidewalk above, at street level.)   We passed by the Louvre and see what appears to be a major Hollywood production set up by the side.  Trailers everywhere, marked with signs in the front 'Wardrobe', 'Gaffers' etc.  Lots of trailers for the actors, too.  Had no idea what film it is, but it was rather fun to see all that stuff.  Back to our hotel we promptly fell asleep, missing the aforementioned chanting Gregorian monks.  We crawled out of bed a few hours later and had a late dinner.  It stays light in Paris until 10:30 or so at night, which is so different from what we're used to.  Its great fun to sit at an outdoor cafe and watch the world go by.

So our plans were to get up early the next day to get to the Louvre early to beat the crowds.  We get there right before opening only to find that it is closed for the day. Closed on Tuesdays.   I swear my guidebook didn't say that, it said open daily.  We decide its time to tackle the subway system.  We buy our passes and find that it is as ridiculously easy to navigate as every one had said.  So, our next stop was to be Musee Orangerie, which is supposed to house an extensive collection of Impressionists.  We get there, only to find that it is closed for renovation.  We decide to head to Musee D'Orsay, which is not too far away.  It is supposed to also have an amazing Impressionist collection, but we had avoided it because it is supposed to be really crowded. (I'm hobbling with my sore toe by now and will be for the rest of the trip.)   We pass by another film being shot and stop to watch.  The entire crew is Asian, speaking French.  It was fun to watch the countdown and hear the director yell 'Action!' then 'Cut!' and watch them relight the set and do it all again.  We get to D'Orsay and yes, the crowds are unbelievable.  Too much for us to fight, so we head off to yet another place which is renowned for its Impressionists collection, the Petite Palais, which also holds the city of Paris' collection.  It is off the Champs-Elysees, also within walking distance.  In my case, by this time, hobbling distance.  The Place de la Concorde is where Champs-Elysees ends, and all along the Plaza and Champ Elysees they have started erecting barriers closing off the streets and risers with seats, all in preparation for the ending of the Tour de France.  We get to the Petite Palais, only to find that it, too, is closed for renovations.  Ah, how much time we could have saved had we only talked to the concierge at the hotel.  So, we Metro it to the Sacre-Coeur, another astonishingly beautiful cathedral on a hillside overlooking the entire city.

 The views are spectacular and breathtaking.  The stairs to get to the top are also breathtaking.  By this time I'm noticing that in addition to my poor sore toe, my calves are also killing me.  Me, miss gym rat who works out 5-6 times a week; me the one who runs, swims, does other cardio stuff and lifts weights and who pays special attention to her legs and does extra calf work because I want them to be shapely, my calves are killing me.  Its rather entertaining, the ow, ow, ow with each step up or down.  Humbling, too.   We don't encounter too many stairs in Florida.  We ran into the same film crew from earlier in the day, this time they were shooting by the Sacre-Coeur.  I'm sure the film, whatever it is, will never see a stateside release.  What a shame.

We did the Louvre the next day.  Got there early, before it opened, so we didn't have to wait long in line.  Spent an unbelievable 11 hours there, it was a day the museum was open late.  Every time we got ready to leave, one of us saw some other exhibit we just had to see.  And we didn't even see but a fraction of what there was to see.  It's like the Met in NYC times 10.  We'd look at paintings for awhile until we couldn't absorb anymore, take a break and fortify ourselves with pastry (there will be snacks, there will be snacks) then go look at sculpture.  Go for another couple of hours, stop and rest and refuel, then go some more.  Just an unbelievable orgy of beauty.  They allow flash photography but I soon figured out that there was enough light that I didn't need my flash.  I took a photo of whatever I fancied; I have no idea of the artist or origin of most of what I took, if I liked it I took a picture (until my battery died.)  Had to take a photo of the sculpture we could see from our hotel room. You could spend months in the Louvre and not do it justice.  We went until we dropped.

We had planned to do Versailles on our last day, but we (I) decided to go shopping instead.  I read that twice a year they have state mandated sales.  So every store you pass  has a large SOLDES sign.  But even with everything on sale I still couldn't spend the money.  Everything's still too expensive. It was raining on and off, so we kept the umbrella close.  We wandered around, came across another beautiful cathedral under renovation, Saint Eustache.  Just amazing, really.  The light inside was spectacular.  We wandered that day without much of a destination.

  Since we hadn't spent much time on the Left Bank, took the Metro and stopped at a randomly picked stop and poked  around. Was flattered when someone who was taking a poll asked me for my opinion. Guess that means I didn't stick out as your typical American tourist.  Hopped on a bus and let it take us around (the bus schedule was less easy to decipher than the Metro.)  Filled up on tacky souvenirs to take back to everyone.  We bought so much at one place the cashier even threw in an extra keychain.  Woo-hoo.  Another spectacular dinner then back to the hotel to pack.

Ed had let me chose what we did every day; he only had two requests:  One, that we have a picnic in a park (a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and thou) and two, that we see the Eiffel Tower at night.  We never got to have our picnic.  We did have a rather crappy crepe and a bottle of water while sitting in the grass of a park, but that was not exactly  what he had in mind.  On the last day, when we had planned our picnic,  it rained.  I felt bad that he hadn't had a chance to do what he wanted, so off to the Eiffel Tower we went after we finished packing.  We left the hotel about 11:30.  We were running mighty low on Euros and I was worried because we had bought our 3 day Metro passes 3 days ago.  We didn't know if they would expire at midnight or if they were good for 72 hours from purchase.  There is no Metro stop right by the Eiffel Tower, but there is a train stop.  (In Paris they have the subway system and a train line that runs in the city and out to the suburbs.)  The trains run less frequently than the metro, and we noticed, while waiting, that it said last train at midnight.  We decided then we'd try to take the Metro back.  We got off at the Eiffel Tower stop, walked up the stairs, turned around and looked up and both our jaws dropped. If the Eiffel Tower is spectacular during the day, it is astonishing at night.  The way they have it lit, all I can say is 'Wow!'

Once again, another memorable sight.  After a while we decide to head back; it's about 12:30 or so.  The closest Metro station is across the river, so we walk that way, keeping an eye on the Tower for different views.  We can't find the Metro station so we start walking along the river towards the next station.  It's a lovely night out, a little cool, we have our light jackets on, and my toe isn't bothering me that much.  We finally find the next Metro station, check the map to make sure we're heading in the right direction, then head to the turnstile with our fingers crossed.  We slip our tickets in, and chu-chink, they're accepted.  The turnstile opens, we go in and head to the platform.  Whew.  We walk for about 20 seconds and encounter a lady who's walking towards the exit. "That was the last train," she said, "the Metro's closed."  Oh, no! What to do?  "You can always get a taxi," she said.  Yeah, like we're gonna find a taxi that takes credit cards.  So we climb up out of the metro station and turn back to take another look at the Eiffel Tower.  It is 1 o'clock in the morning and it is now lit up with flashing strobe lights.  They flash on and off, ripple up and down, like a Christmas tree and 4^th of July all rolled into one.

It was an incredible sight.  I've never seen anything like it.  If we'd caught the Metro we would have missed this most wondrous of sights.  With the likelihood of finding a taxi slim, we hoof it back to the hotel.  Have a lovely walk along the Siene.  Get back to the room at 2 am, too wired from the walk to sleep, so more red wine and dark chocolate and finally crash about 3. It was just an awesome way to end our trip.

 Get up at 7 to make it to the airport.  We're standing in line and the representative from the airlines is checking us in prior to check-in (I know, it makes no sense) and told us the flight was overbooked, would we be willing to go on stand-by?  If we were bumped, they'd give us an $800 travel voucher, pay for hotel, meals, and taxi for the night.  Were we interested?  What, a free night in Paris?  An $800 travel voucher?  Where do we sign?  We wouldn't find out until right before the plane left, so we had to go thru all the rigamarole of checking in, going through security and all that.  On the other side of security my husband discovers he'd lost his credit card so we had a white-knuckled half hour until we found out someone from the airline had it.  Whew.  We were not bumped, dammit, but it was fun speculating.  Kinda like wondering how you'd spend your lotto winnings.  An uneventful flight back, actually arrived early in Miami.  Immigration there is a nightmare.  What a horrible introduction to the U.S. for first time visitors.  I am embarrassed, mortified really.  It wasn't too horrible for U.S. citizens, but for foreigners the lines were unbelievable.

OK, that's the basics of what we did and what happened.  We had an absolutely marvelous time.  I highly recommend Paris to anyone.  Its easy to get around, there's tons of stuff to do whatever you're into, and you can figure out what you need, even if you don't have French, if you've got a French/English dictionary.  Most service people you run into have English, and if they don't, you can usually point or point at words in your dictionary and get by.  Here are some myths/stereotypes busted or confirmed:

1)      The stereotype is that French people hate Americans, are snobby and rude and will snub and ridicule tourists  because we can't speak their language.  I spent way too much time worrying about this before our trip.  It is so totally wrong.  You think that a stereotype this ingrained must have some basis, but we did not see it at all during our trip.  Almost everyone we ran into was polite and as gracious as they could be. They corrected my mangled French with a smile, not a sneer. My '˜Merci's' were nodded at and smiled at and returned.  I did not feel any antipathy towards me because of my heritage.  My husband, oh wise one, says in most cases people will treat you as you treat them. This is true.  Myth busted.  I've never been so happy to be so wrong.  

2)      French women know how to dress.  This is not a myth, this is the God's honest truth.  I would sit and enviously watch the beautiful and beautifully put together women walk by.  They have more elan and flair in their pinkies that I will ever have.  When I was younger I was a Vogue magazine devotee (you'd never know now) and I used to try to 'dress', but I never got the hang of it.  I think the combination of not working at an office job, motherhood, and living in Florida have all combined to turn me into a slob.  I'm strictly a jeans/shorts and t-shirt type gal.  Oh, but I wish I could put an outfit together like the French women do.  I am envious of their collective sense of style, which seems so effortless.  Oh, this season's color is tangerine. We saw it in many variations, many different hues, but light orange is in.

3)      The French can cook.  My god, can they cook.  Except for the crappy crepe in the park, almost everything else we ate was outstanding.  And we ate fairly simply.  The bread, oh my!  The sauces!  The dark chocolate!  The pastries!  We had one raspberry tart (and I'm not particularly fond of raspberries) where the taste just exploded in my mouth.  I swear I'll remember that tart forever.  I had good intentions of stopping every afternoon for a coffee and pastry, but we only did that a few afternoons.  Damn.  I regret every pastry I missed.  Ah, orgiastic ecstasy for the tastebuds.

4)      Paris is for lovers.  Yes it is.  One of our guidebooks said, when it comes to matters of the heart or groin, Parisians do not sit in judgement.  I'd say. There was all kinds of making out going on.  Kinda fun to watch.  Like back in the days when you were a virgin and you knew that whatever you were doing was not going to end in sex so you just kissed and made out like mad.  Couples kissing everywhere.  Making out on the grass in the park. Grown men and women, in their forties.  On a park bench.  In the museum.   Brings a smile to your face.

5)      Paris is expensive.  Yes it is.  Guidebook says to bring half the clothes you plan to pack and three times the money.  Yes, yes, yes.  The exchange rate's horrible, and every time you change money they charge a fee.  We just laughed about it after awhile because there was nothing we could do about it.  After exchanging some money, my husband quipped, "Hey, just try spending that in more than one place."

Other silly observations.  Hey, the buildings look just like they do in the Aristocats.  And the sirens sound just like they do in foreign films.  Hmmmm.

It was an absolutely marvelous trip and we had the best time.  I can't wait to go back and spend more time exploring Paris.  Hopefully next time we'll get out some into the country as well.