A Day in Paris

When arrived in north-east Paris at the Gare St. Lazare, we were a bit stressed because we had no place to stay and it was 1915. We threw on our packs and trudged off looking for an affordable hotel. The first one we found was €130 a night, which we thought a bit steep. The next place we looked in was €450 a night. The first place was looking pretty good. The third place was €104; we took it.

Our small room was complete with a TV, phone, nice big bathroom, two chairs, a desk and the best part, unlimited free wifi! It only had a shower (no bath) which probably accounted for the price break. We were fixed up. It was much better than the place in Portsmouth, for about the same price. We were in the 8e arrondissment, near the St. Lazare train station, not exactly tourism central. There was a huge grocery store across the street and a drug store. It was a pretty normal downtown community. There were no attractions near the hotel. The one thing there was was lots of sidewalk cafés.

Finding something to eat looked like a no brainer given the huge number of cafés in the area. We were like junkies in a drug store;  kids in a candy shop. After walking for two hours (with a short break for a couple glasses of wine) we finally agreed on a place to eat. I think it was the first one we had passed two hours ago! We ordered a plate of jambon fermier and two salad Parisiennes followed by soupe à l'oignon gratiné each. It was very good.

Friday morning was an early wakey - wakey because we had several centuries of art to sift through during the next few hours. We headed off to the Louvre, walking along the Siene, past the square where the aristocracy were beheaded. We could see the Eiffel Tower off in the distance. Nice last view if they pointed the guillotine the right direction.

Eiffel Tower, hmmm?

Tired?

Phooning around at the Louvre

The Louvre was a disaster. I think every tourist from Vancouver to Tokyo had decided to visit on the same day as us. We lined up/queued (good english word) for quite a while to get in past security, then queued (good scrabble word) for another while to get tickets into the exhibits. Then we queued for a bite to eat, and queued for a piss, and queued to look at Rembrandt's paintings.  There were a brazilian people in the Egyptian exhibit, so we queued to get out of there. The best place we found, with the fewest people, was in the apartments of Napoleon III. We had a good walk around there before saying goodbye to the Louvre and queueing to get out.

The start of the queues.

 Tired?

 Josephine's vanity.

 Napoleon III

 Nappy's dining room.

Next we did another leg of the urban version of the Bataan death march across Paris towards the Eiffel Tower. Every once in a while we could see it between the buildings, and I would get a lead mark. My shortcuts were anything but.  Who knew that Parisian streets can sometime just end. The Tower was another riot of tourists with an unbelievable number of hucksters selling everything from purple Eiffel Tower key chains to stuffed dancing cows. There were lots of guys, all along the walk and bridge near the Tower, playing that game with the three match boxes and one hidden ball. At one point we heard a police siren approaching and, quick as a flash, all the hucksters and their stuff disappeared. It was amazing.  Once the threat had passed, they were out in full force as if nothing had happened. Kind of like sidewalk gophers!

 Croatian (I think) hucksters.

The quick pack up when the cops go by.

We limped back to our hotel eager to go searching for another great French meal. Thinking that eating late was the de rigour thing in Paris, we loitered until about 2030 and headed out in search of a garlic fix only to discover that most of the smaller interesting restaurants had finished serving dinner. Bummer! We settled for some pork paté and chicken and chips, accompanied by a half litre of the best chardonnay we've ever had (the vin du moment). Nancy ordered a creme caramel for the wrap up. Instead of a small single serving in a fancy dish, they brought her a glass bread pan sized dish of it half full. She wanted to eat it all, but I felt Canada's reputation as being more conservative eaters than Americans was at stake.

Paris is behind us now. We are now on the Thalys rocketing our way from Paris to Cologne at 300 kilometers per hour. It is a very comfortable ride. I love it when we are parallel to a motorway/autobahn and the cars look like they are going backwards.

Stay tuned for our next installment.