SP:
Today is sight-seeing day. Since there are no scheduled tours, we'll make one up for ourselves and visit all the famous Parisian landmarks. This requires skill. This requires planning. This requires a basic knowledge of French history and the metro systems. Anna and I have none of these things.
We start the day off by taking a quick jaunt over to the Moulin Rouge. It's barely 7:30 am, and this is not the best part of town (yes, it's the red light district). Upon finding the famous windmill, however, we are treated to a rare sight. A tour of 70+ year olds have made it to Moulin's last call and are now just exiting the premise. Dear Lord, I hope to be like them when I'm old and no longer care about being seen leaving a bar at dawn with no money but good memories! Remember kids: it's always better to be over the hill than under it!
After taking some quick pictures of the Moulin Rouge, we run across town to take some pictures of the Bastile. Sounds like an easy enough thing to accomplish. We get off the Metro at the Bastile stop. By all rights, we should be at/ near the Bastile. We get above ground, ready to behold the sight of a famous Parisian landmark and touchstone for a revolution, when... we don't see the Bastile. Ok, don't panic. We probably just need to cross the street and walk down a bit. Problem is, crossing the street in Paris is a bit of a gamble. Bill Bryson says it best.
The streetlight will be red, but there will be a clear "DO NOT WALK" sign flashing at us. The moment that gives us the go ahead, all the traffic lights seem to simultaneously turn green, and some of the world's most aggressive drivers come roaring towards us. Anna and I solve this problem... by crossing the street with parents pushing babies! No one would hit a little kid! WE'RE SAVED!
Anyway, we've finally crossed the street, but still no Bastile. OK, this is becoming frustrating. So, I whip out my trusty iPhone which carries the "Lonely Planet Paris" app (there's an app for that!!) and look up the Bastile. Here it is! Bastile.... historic meaning.... French symbol... oh. Huh. Apparently it burned down. In 1789. Our bad.
We quickly abandon our quest for pictures of the (now non-existant) Bastile and move on to the Notre Dame and Crypts. The Notre Dame is as beautiful as it's reported to be. Even more moving, a choir was recording inside the church and they performed a series of chants and hymns. With the organ going full blast, it was quite the experience. You could almost imagine yourself as a poor Parisian merchant praying to God for good crops, safe passage for your ships, and no plague. Definitely no plague. The crypts are across the square from the Notre Dame and, while not extensive, show how the Ile was built layer by layer. It's certainly worth a peak to see how Paris rose from a pre-Roman backwater to European Center of Everything.
At this point, we were hungry. Anna and I backtracked to the St. Paul metro stop and the Marais quarter in order to visit the best falafel place in Paris, in France, and maybe, the world. It was delicious! And smack in the middle of the old Jewish quarter (which is still a center for Central/Eastern European Jewish activity). It's called the L'As du Falafel. Go there, order the falafel special, and enjoy.
Next came the most stressful part of our day. We tried to get to the Musee d' Orsay from the St. Paul metro stop and (not so quickly) realised this would entail moving between the Metro and the RER intercity train system. As we struggled to figure out where we were, where we were going, and how to find a mode of public transit that would move us between the two, we started making jokes and crying out "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Hey, it was fitting at the time. There were no maps, no help, and no helpful hints to guide us along our way. After some giggles about God forsaking us on the Paris metro, we finally made it to the Musee. The kicker? One of the museum's most famous pieces, the "Starry Night," was on loan... in San Francisco, CA. Just our luck we travel around the world to find that an important piece of art is around the world, in the OTHER DIRECTION. Bah.
It is now almost 5 pm, so Anna and I decide to head over to the Eiffel Tower to see it light up. Understand this: I googled when the tower lights up. It said that during the summer, it lights up starting at 7 pm. Wanting to see the Tower in all its splendour, we got there early and waited. And waited. And waited. And... waited. Over four hours we've waited. It's now after 9 and we haven't seen so much as a flicker. Finally, we asked one of the guys selling fake handbags what time the Tower lit up. He glances at his watch and says 10 pm. Well, hell! We've waited this long, we are going to see the lights go on. Of course, as we're waiting, we decided to move closer towards the Metro and away from the Eiffel Tower. As we do so, we narrowly escape two fights involving drunks and cheering Algerians (they tied England). The Eiffel Tower finally went off, and (despite the 5+ hour waiting time) was a beautiful sight to behold. Though it would have been better 4 hours earlier. Just saying.
On the Metro ride home, Fate decided to throw us a bone. As we exited at our stop, Anna wanted to know if I saw how muscular the arms on the train driver were. I admitted I had not, and less than subtily, we both turned around to gawk. Well, imagine our surprise when the driver not only caught us staring but also HONKED HIS METRO TRAIN HORN AT US!!!!! WIN!!!! Around this point, Anna claimed this guy as her future husband. Confidence restored, we walked back to the hotel... and went straight to bed.
Today is sight-seeing day. Since there are no scheduled tours, we'll make one up for ourselves and visit all the famous Parisian landmarks. This requires skill. This requires planning. This requires a basic knowledge of French history and the metro systems. Anna and I have none of these things.
We start the day off by taking a quick jaunt over to the Moulin Rouge. It's barely 7:30 am, and this is not the best part of town (yes, it's the red light district). Upon finding the famous windmill, however, we are treated to a rare sight. A tour of 70+ year olds have made it to Moulin's last call and are now just exiting the premise. Dear Lord, I hope to be like them when I'm old and no longer care about being seen leaving a bar at dawn with no money but good memories! Remember kids: it's always better to be over the hill than under it!After taking some quick pictures of the Moulin Rouge, we run across town to take some pictures of the Bastile. Sounds like an easy enough thing to accomplish. We get off the Metro at the Bastile stop. By all rights, we should be at/ near the Bastile. We get above ground, ready to behold the sight of a famous Parisian landmark and touchstone for a revolution, when... we don't see the Bastile. Ok, don't panic. We probably just need to cross the street and walk down a bit. Problem is, crossing the street in Paris is a bit of a gamble. Bill Bryson says it best.
"The problem is that the pedestrian crossing lights have been
designed with the clear purpose of leaving the foreign visitor
confused, humiliated, and, if all goes according to plan, dead."
The streetlight will be red, but there will be a clear "DO NOT WALK" sign flashing at us. The moment that gives us the go ahead, all the traffic lights seem to simultaneously turn green, and some of the world's most aggressive drivers come roaring towards us. Anna and I solve this problem... by crossing the street with parents pushing babies! No one would hit a little kid! WE'RE SAVED!
Anyway, we've finally crossed the street, but still no Bastile. OK, this is becoming frustrating. So, I whip out my trusty iPhone which carries the "Lonely Planet Paris" app (there's an app for that!!) and look up the Bastile. Here it is! Bastile.... historic meaning.... French symbol... oh. Huh. Apparently it burned down. In 1789. Our bad.
We quickly abandon our quest for pictures of the (now non-existant) Bastile and move on to the Notre Dame and Crypts. The Notre Dame is as beautiful as it's reported to be. Even more moving, a choir was recording inside the church and they performed a series of chants and hymns. With the organ going full blast, it was quite the experience. You could almost imagine yourself as a poor Parisian merchant praying to God for good crops, safe passage for your ships, and no plague. Definitely no plague. The crypts are across the square from the Notre Dame and, while not extensive, show how the Ile was built layer by layer. It's certainly worth a peak to see how Paris rose from a pre-Roman backwater to European Center of Everything.
At this point, we were hungry. Anna and I backtracked to the St. Paul metro stop and the Marais quarter in order to visit the best falafel place in Paris, in France, and maybe, the world. It was delicious! And smack in the middle of the old Jewish quarter (which is still a center for Central/Eastern European Jewish activity). It's called the L'As du Falafel. Go there, order the falafel special, and enjoy.Next came the most stressful part of our day. We tried to get to the Musee d' Orsay from the St. Paul metro stop and (not so quickly) realised this would entail moving between the Metro and the RER intercity train system. As we struggled to figure out where we were, where we were going, and how to find a mode of public transit that would move us between the two, we started making jokes and crying out "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Hey, it was fitting at the time. There were no maps, no help, and no helpful hints to guide us along our way. After some giggles about God forsaking us on the Paris metro, we finally made it to the Musee. The kicker? One of the museum's most famous pieces, the "Starry Night," was on loan... in San Francisco, CA. Just our luck we travel around the world to find that an important piece of art is around the world, in the OTHER DIRECTION. Bah.
It is now almost 5 pm, so Anna and I decide to head over to the Eiffel Tower to see it light up. Understand this: I googled when the tower lights up. It said that during the summer, it lights up starting at 7 pm. Wanting to see the Tower in all its splendour, we got there early and waited. And waited. And waited. And... waited. Over four hours we've waited. It's now after 9 and we haven't seen so much as a flicker. Finally, we asked one of the guys selling fake handbags what time the Tower lit up. He glances at his watch and says 10 pm. Well, hell! We've waited this long, we are going to see the lights go on. Of course, as we're waiting, we decided to move closer towards the Metro and away from the Eiffel Tower. As we do so, we narrowly escape two fights involving drunks and cheering Algerians (they tied England). The Eiffel Tower finally went off, and (despite the 5+ hour waiting time) was a beautiful sight to behold. Though it would have been better 4 hours earlier. Just saying.On the Metro ride home, Fate decided to throw us a bone. As we exited at our stop, Anna wanted to know if I saw how muscular the arms on the train driver were. I admitted I had not, and less than subtily, we both turned around to gawk. Well, imagine our surprise when the driver not only caught us staring but also HONKED HIS METRO TRAIN HORN AT US!!!!! WIN!!!! Around this point, Anna claimed this guy as her future husband. Confidence restored, we walked back to the hotel... and went straight to bed.
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