These next few weeks are going to be mildly crazy--I'm traveling all about Europe with some study abroad friends. These blog posts are just blurbs about what has been happening each day, and I make no promises as to the interesting-ness of their content, as I am generally exhausted when I write them.
Paris, Day 1
I have made a new rule for traveling. Never, ever book a
flight before 10am, because otherwise the entire first day will be hazed over
by a sleepy fog. For some reason, my
travels in Italy had not hammered this lesson home, so we booked a flight for
the terrifying hour of 9:30 (implying a wake-up alarm of 5:30). I woke up in a
sleep-deprived stupor after a mere three hours of shut-eye, galumphed my way to
a taxi with Megan and Megan, and somehow made it through security without
falling over. It was a struggle.
We landed in Paris just as I was getting queasy from the
turbulence. The Beauvais airport is tiny, and prohibitively far away from
Paris itself. Thankfully, the airport provided an overpriced bus service,
and we made it into Paris proper.
I was very, very surprised at my first impression. I don’t
think I expected Paris to be so very large, or so very French. Dublin is a
quite manageable size, as is Boston—the only two cities I am familiar
with. Apparently, though, Paris was not
designed with “walking distance” in mind, because everything is spread out and
travel time can be considerable. It’s so
French, too—it has such a different
feel from Dublin, which is basically an American city with more beer. But Paris is distinctively different, even
moreso than Italy, where the larger cities felt like they were populated more
by tourists than locals.
After containing our astonishment at the mere size of the
city, I apprehensively approached some French people for directions. After all the stories and stereotypes, I had
expected snooty French people who looked down on Americans and were unhelpful,
rude, and had greasy hair, but I found quite the opposite. Everyone I talked to
(and I asked at least five people for directions!) was unfailingly friendly and
helpful; their graciousness was overwhelming.
(Also, nobody had unusually greasy hair.)
It took about forty-five minutes to get from the bus stop to
the hostel—like I said, Paris is big!—where we were met by a rather snarky guy
who gave us our room key and gleefully informed us that our room was number
18…seven floors up. It was pure misery,
until a random guy walking up the stairs grabbed some of our bags for us. I was
so impressed, because the stairs were really steep and awful, but he was so
nice about it. We also met our roommate,
Lucas from Argentina. We decided he
looked trustworthy, probably because he was cute, and figured we could leave
our stuff safely in the room with him.
Thankfully, it turned out that attractiveness level does indicate honesty, and none of our things were misplaced while
we were gone.
We sank into our beds, ready for a nap, but decided to visit
Notre Dame instead. All I could think of
was the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and the whole time I imagined a squat little
man jumping around the rooftop and swinging from gargoyles. The church itself was very pretty, but we
were too late to climb to the belltowers, so we rescheduled that activity for
tomorrow morning.
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| Notre Dame itself. |
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| The interior of Notre Dame, viewed from behind the main corridor. |
We journeyed from Notre Dame to my favorite place in the
world—Angelina. This is literally the
best hot chocolate shop on this planet. I am not joking. The hot chocolate is outrageously expensive
(8 euros, what?!?!) but completely worth it. I swear, it’s 70% pure dark
chocolate and 30% heavy cream. We entered
the shop and the waiters promptly escorted us upstairs, away from all the
rich-looking, nicely dressed customers to a more casual nook. When the hot chocolate finally arrived, my
mind melted. I’ve never tasted anything as thick, creamy, chocolatey, or
heavenly. It’s even better than cheesecake. We took bites and our eyelashes
involuntarily fluttered in delight. I’m sure we looked quite ridiculous, and
the French ladies seated next to us certainly raised their eyebrows when we
started scraping the hot chocolate pots, but we didn’t care. It was heaven on earth, and we paid 8 whole
euros for it. We’ll scrape all we want.
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| The hot chocolate pot. Yum yum. |
We emerged from Angelina with tummies full and contented
smiles plastered over our sleepy faces.
We wandered into the garden attached to the Louvre, and just walked
around, admiring its elegance and mocking the modern art statues. The sun was out, but rain started to
sprinkle, and we saw a full rainbow arc over the Louvre
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| Modern art validates clumsiness. (Disclaimer: I have no idea what this statue is actually about. It just looks like me when I fall down the stairs. |
After such gorgeousness, we were completely exhausted, and schlumped back to our hostel and passed out. Well, almost—first I wrote this blog post. I’m sorry for its incoherency; I am extremely tired. And now, to bed! Tomorrow shall be the Notre Dame towers, the Montmartre (famous arts district), and a yummy lunch. I am very excited.
Paris, Day 2
After climbing all 120 stairs to our hostel room, I am
officially exhausted. Completely, 100%
tuckered out. Today was wonderful, but all I want to do is sleep.
A few things first: 1. Paris people have still been nice!
All, that is, except for the people who run our hostel. They are snarky, rude,
and unhelpful. But it’s one of the cheaper hostels in Paris, so I suppose you
get what you pay for. Also, the hostel itself is awful; the light in our
bathroom doesn’t work at all, there is no elevator option for the 120 stairs,
and the only place with internet is the slimy bar area downstairs. The “Peace and Love Hostel” is very
improperly named. 2. I feel weirdly guilty for not speaking French. Not because
of the way people have treated me—everyone has been unfailingly gracious—but
because I feel bad for forcing them to speak in a foreign tongue without even
attempting French. I’m coming here,
invading their space, and then forcing them
to concede; how is that fair? My blatant American-ness makes me so
uncomfortable.
The first thing we did today was visit the Conciergerie, the
prison where Marie Antoinette and other famous political prisoners were held
and executed. The lady at the desk was very nice, and gave us free entrance
because of our EU student ID cards, even though technically only EU citizens
got free access. The security guard who
took our tickets told me that my curly hair was beautiful, and that Megan and I
were both gorgeous. We were pretty
happy, and I proceeded to walk around the prison flipping my hair like a
sorority girl.
The Conciergerie was surprisingly depressing; we saw the
prisons where thousands of people were kept before being guillotined, and the
courts where people saw their families for the last time, a recreation of Marie
Antoinette’s cell, and the room where thousands were condemned during the
French Revolution.
After that happy episode, we had the chance to throw
ourselves off the roof of Notre Dame. Not really—the guides made sure that no
one recreated any scenes from the Hunchback
of Notre Dame, and fenced in everyone like we were five years old. The view from the belltower, though, was
exquisitely beautiful, although the mean people at the ticket office made us
pay 5 euros to climb the 400 or so stairs to get there. It wasn’t as high up as the ones I climbed in
Italy, but the amount of detail in this church is unbelievable. Notre Dame was built in the 1300s, and I am
astounded by how architecturally detailed it is. Flying buttresses, cool
spire-y things, intricate carvings—it has everything. My favorite part, though, was the
gargoyles. In the Hunchback of Notre Dame, you see all these weird-looking gargoyles,
and you think, nah, that’s not in real life. Oh no, it definitely is. Each gargoyle is weird in a unique way. Some
were shaped like pelicans, others like animals, one was eating a dog, another
was sticking out its tongue—walking around the belltower was fascinating.
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| Gargoyle chewing a dog. |
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| Watching over the city. |
Our next stop was the first (and probably only) “fancy”
Paris meal we would have. Although it
was moderately-to-low priced for a Paris restaurant, it was very expensive for
our budgets, which is why it was an only-once venture. It was so worth it,
though. We arrived in the restaurant, I
said “Bonjour” to the waiter, and apparently butchered the pronunciation so
badly that he immediately asked if we wanted an English menu. Then Megan said
“Merci,” and he asked her if she spoke French. Life is unfair.
For the first dish, the appetizer-type things, Megan got a
delicious butternut squash soup, and I got an interesting rabbit “turrine,”
which I still don’t actually know what it is.
We then both got amazing roast duck breast with the cheesiest mashed
potatoes I have ever seen. The waiter
brought them over in the pot for us to see, and when he scooped them up, they
dripped back down in strings like cheese. They were heaven. Dessert, however, was the crowning
glory—mousse. Oh, the chocolate mousse. It was dense but light, the most wonderful
confection I will ever eat. They brought
out an enormous bowl for both of us, and though we are both chocolate fiends,
we could only finish half of it. I will
remember that mousse forever.
As much as I wanted to, though, I didn’t take food pictures
in the restaurant. It was far too classy
for that, and I was already feeling underdressed and awkward in my
sneakers. Megan and I spoke almost in
whispers so that the French people wouldn’t hear that we were Americans and
judge us. We also ate as properly as we
could manage, and I very much regretted ignoring my father’s instructions about
how to put your fork on your plate when you are finished, etc. I am now determined to go to manners school
so whenever I visit Paris again, I do not embarrass myself.
We then wandered around the Opera House, which was
undergoing construction and therefore only of middling impressiveness, and
headed to Montmartre/ Sancre-Couer, the famous touristy arts district on a hill
that overlooks Paris. We had aimed to
watch the sunset from the hill, but we had brought Dublin weather with us—the
sky was completely covered in gray rainy clouds. So instead we wandered around the area and
looked at mini bedazzled models of the Eiffel Tower. We also found a chocolate shop that had
unbelievable sculptures made entirely of chocolate.
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| Sacre-Couer! |
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| This. Face. |
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| We climbed alllll the way to the top. |
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| The view from the top. |
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| Pretty Megan! |
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| Chocolate ship sculpture. I am still amazed. |
Megan and I were completely full from our mousse adventures,
and so thankfully did not get any chocolate despite being sorely tempted. We
headed back to the hostel, met Breanna, and crashed. Tomorrow is another early morning—Versailles
all day, woohoo! Better get some rest before then. Night night!
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