A MAJOR TRAVEL MILESTONE -
One of my favourite parts of flying is looking down at the landscape beneath as you come closer and closer to landing. Shades of brown and green fields were interwoven like patchwork quilts - which was a beautiful sight from my window. No matter how much I cast my eye out or craned my neck, I wasn't able to spot the Eiffel Tower but I believe I would need to have been on the right side of the aircraft to have clocked it.
ALL BY MY LONESOME! -
Surprisingly, it was easy to traverse CDG to catch the RER B train into the city centre... even for one as geographically dim-witted such as I! The underground was very hot and sticky; I hadn't clothed myself coolly enough as sometimes I can be a real idiot like that. Gare du Nord is just across the road from the Inn I was staying at but it was a MARE to exit as it is undergoing lots of renovations. Plus, it's one of the busiest train stations in all of Europe handling in excess of 180 million commuters every single year.
By sheer luck I came across St Christopher's Inn as it is tucked away and I hadn't come out of the exit that is usually suggested because it was blocked off with the building works. The staff were very accommodating, the beds comfy and came with curtains!!
At the Louvre Museum, a dizzying labyrinth of more than 180,000 pieces of exceptional art, I used French to request a ticket and not only was I UNDERSTOOD (a triumph in itself!!) but I was complimented on it by the cashier too. I guess they're used to tourists not bothering to make an effort to speak any French whatsoever but I went with the mind-set that I'd try my best and dust off the GCSE French from the corners of my brain.
I made a dash for it to make Mona Lisa's acquaintance and she's itty bitty!! Every pic I took of her portrait came out grainy and ghostly but she's divine. Though the hoards of tourists, barriers, bulletproof glass encasement and security guards don't enable a close visitation with her. Any trip to Paris dictates that one must meet this mademoiselle; so I did.
For the life of me, I couldn't track down numerous works of art I had hoped to hunt down and see first hand e.g. Botticelli's Three Graces and Venus of Milos. TOOOOOOOOOO many rooms in the former palace, few arrows and room plans to gauge where to go is to blame. It didn't matter, for all the collections I did see were sublime. Despite having long since recognised how dense I am when it comes to art, I did like contemplating potential interpretations of the masterpieces. The French Sculpture Courtyard in Richelieu was lavishly belle with so much marble in one courtyard.
The Louvre's main pyramid of glass and metal is 21 metres tall and was rumoured to have a satanic 666 panes of glass but this has been refuted. I'd planned to wait until the sky was darker to be photographed with the illusion that I was touching the tippy top of the pyramid a la tourists but at 9.30pm it still wasn't dark enough and I had other places to be. The girl I had coerced into taking the shots for me, didn't guide my hand which meant there was not so excellent finger pointing on my part and I marginally missed the top of the pyramid.
I raced the rues like a menace as ice cream is practically my entire life. Amorino is famed for fashioning the ice cream atop your cone into a rose which is almost too pretty to eat. Is there really any such thing???? You can pick as many flavours as they can fit on it but I didn't wanna be too piggish and settled for just two which made my heart pitter patter. NOTHING says delicious like the flavoursome indulgement of framboise. Their staple Inimitable (reminiscent of Nutella with its combo of cocoa and hazelnut) shocked and amazed my lips as I licked them with devotion for my refreshment of joy. Gelato and I have always been, and will always be, pretty great together.
Ignorantly, I'd expected the Eiffel Tower to stick out like a sore thumb; yet it was more like a needle in a haystack. That first evening, I caught a tiny glimpse when I'd hoped it would be seen city wide so I could use it as a compass. How in the world I navigated myself back to my lodgings after dark in a foreign capital, I'll never know! *Pats self on back*
SPRINKLES SERVE BETTER AND PRETTIER -
The only crepe I gobbled during my stay in the city massively disappointed; it was the least delicious crepe I've maybe ever tasted and I've had more than my fair share, trust me on that. The stall proprietor grabbed one from a stack and who knows how long that had been sitting there?!!, merely heated it on the stove, smearing it with lashings of Nutella and coconut shavings. This was the very breakfast I'd come all this way to eat too.
Meandering along the Seine, it was plain to see why Monet adored painting various views of this particular river. It almost made me yearn for an easel and paint palette myself as that would have been the Monet thing to do! As I picked up the pace, Quasimodo was ringing the bells at Notre Dame and I've never had the privilege of hearing bells rung SO well before.
WHO DOESN'T LOVE A CRUSTY BAGUETTE? -
Shakespeare and Company Bookstore is a utopia of books, crammed full of English classics and more obscure titles too. It was soooo cute; reminding me of the small library in Disney's animated version of Beauty and the Beast - complete with the rolling ladders, cosy nooks and containing *anything* a bookworm could wish for. Shelves are laden with novels written by the world's literary luminaries. I could have sat there contentedly, all week long.
After wandering by the Pantheon and St Etienne-du-Mont, I had worked up an appetite for a poulet salade baguette; that's chicken salad to the non-French speakers amongst us. I broke bread in Luxembourg Gardens, an impeccable oasis in the heart of the city, created by Queen Marie de Medici. The gardens were blushing with the golden hues of spring fleurs. I particularly liked the funky statues, the horsies and the ornate Medicis fountain which has a romantic 'air' about it. Sitting beside the Grand Basin, watching vintage boats float on by, sounds idyllic - no? It would've been were it not for two factors killing my joy. Le soleil etait tres chaud and I wasn't laughing at that or how gross and itchy my right eye had become :'(
TURNS OUT, JE SUIS ALLERGIQUE A PARIS ... GENUINELY -
It was a tad blustery in the shade within the Gardens and dust clouds were rising and blinding; not to mention, covering my suede ballet pumps with sooty particles. My eye flared up with puffy, weepy, stinging inflammation the second I entered Luxembourg until just before I went to sleep. It felt as though shards of glass were piercing my iris. Nice going, pollen (!!!!!) Thus, I hid my normally-'best'-feature under my sunglasses as my face was more disgusting than usual. After having sought advice from friends on The Book of Face (more commonly known as Facebook), I rinsed out the eyeball and applied wet tissues like a compress and this alleviated my allergic reaction before bed.
But before the day ended, I had more to do and heaps to see; so I troopered on, as would Abba who are super. I checked out Le Bon Marche, the oldest department store in Paris and first ever modern department store globally - to ride the famous escalator amongst those better looking and fancier dressed than I. And all in order to touch a REAL Louboutin shoe in all their expensive grandeur and it was MAGNIFICENT. Not that I'll ever be able to afford one of these 175-250% marked up beauts.
OH HOW I'LL BE THE ENVY OF ALL MY FRIENDS (!) -
Being a Gossip Girl maniac, it was an honour to drink in the 'footsteps' of Serena and Blair at Café de Flore, just as they did when they summered in Paris. Sitting outside to people watch, I ordered the sweet elixir of the special chocolat chaud; then promptly died and went to choccie heaven while enjoying the bliss inside my glass. I totally get why it is so well-liked, nay, REVERED... it's all it's cracked up to be.
There were several jealous heads popping up, coveting my outdoors table as I sipped at my almost sickly sweet offering. The thick, rich texture to the blend is mysteriously smooth and overwhelmed my senses. It's difficult not to get lost in the moment! I'm not posh enough to beverage in an upper class venue as evidenced by what I did in the non-swanky powder room.. As the WC attendant charged me to use ze loo, I took TWO of the mints and LOTS of toilet roll as recompense. I trundled out with a haunty 'that'll teach 'em' swagger.
'THE GREATEST THING YOU'LL EVER LEARN, IS JUST TO LOVE AND BE LOVED IN RETURN' -
Quelle surprise, I set foot in the wrong direction to Palais Garnier as I'm so directionally obtuse. Yes, this was where the stabbings occurred later on in my week :( I was there on two separate occasions the two evenings prior to that night :( More on that to follow in a later blog ... Whilst I was there this particular eve, a handsome stranger asked me to dance tango with him. I was sat on the steps quite literally rubbing my aching and no doubt STINKY feet, so I had to respectfully decline as the whole reason I'd sat to spectate was because I was suffering so much with my eyes and feet. An Adam Levine sound-a-like busker also just happened to be singing The Beatles, followed up with Stevie Wonder's 'I just called to say I love you'; I cannot confirm or deny that I was indeed the only one singing along.
By this point, I truly was flagging but I did want to stop by Moulin Rouge just because I CAN, CAN, CAN ... or rather could, could, could. I didn't wish to see a show or witness the spectacles within the iconic birthplace of the can can but I did envision Ewan McGregor as his character Christian serenading me. It maybe wasn't the greatest idea to sit awhile on a path across the street from it for a rest as a garcon sat beside me and did his darndest to chat me up. He pestered me to take off my lunettes so he could see what he suspected were beautiful eyes -the flattery!!! but I flat out refused on account of my allergy ickiness. As my feet were unable to move with weariness, I humoured him and his conversation for close to 15 minutes before I'd had enough and had to get him off my back with the excuse of a made up boyfriend back home who would be angry with me if I went on a picnic with him the next day, as he'd desired. Only strange men are attracted to me, it would seem.
OTHER POINTS OF NOTE:
- I wish the Eiffel Tower were more visible. I only caught two brief sightings of it.
- I must blend in as I was asked for directions twice in French, no less.
- Clipboard scams are real. I'd done my research on this and knew to - ignore, bypass them and pretend not to speak a word of English.
- If you sit still alone long enough, you will be accosted by a Frenchman. Guaranteed.
- I am feelin' Paris and just want to give it a BIG smooch.
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