*I took these pictures.The next morning we were finally driving into Paris! I had taken three years of French in high school, and loved the language, the culture, the food, and the literature. Like London, traffic into the city was a veritable snarl, and took quite a while to get through. On our ride, I mostly remember Taylor and I listening to the radio on the coach and hearing the announcer say “Le Rolling Stones.” I can’t imagine why they didn’t just translate the group’s name.
Once inside Paris proper, we took a drive around the roundabout surrounded the Arc de Triomphe – truly a near-death experience. Once we got in the inside lane, I was certain I would never make out alive. Somehow we did make it out alive. The roundabout was the world’s first. We continued down the main avenues towards the Champs-Elysees, Paris’ main shopping district. Some people compare it to Rodeo Drive or 5th Avenue – I think it surpasses both. There were high-end stores for brands I had never heard of, and brands I don’t think make enough products to fill a store, no matter how small. Unbelievably, the say we were in Paris was a major sale day, and we were still not allowed out of the coach. I was half-expecting a mutiny from the girls on the trip.
We passed other places on our drive around Paris to get to different areas – in front of many of the monuments and museums, there were peaceful protestors. One a square just outside of the Eiffel though, there was a rambunctious group of Iranian protestors, waving flags and seemingly threatening to get violent through body language. It was a sad sight – more conflict and possible violence against repression and violence.
We were able to get off for a short walk around the Arc, which I found very nice. The weather was much warmer than the other places we had been so far, feeling much more at home for me. The Arc is a terribly imposing structure once one is standing under it – it is covered with huge carvings of Napoleon (who built the Arc as homage to himself, and who the French are still very fond of), various other generals and commanders. Tales of great battles are also inscribed into the monument.
One thing that was rather disconcerting about our stop was the many street vendors. We were warned many times by our leaders to avoid their small mats and various plastics wares – not only were they selling cheap junk, they might become combative or try thievery. I did, consequently, look at them with a rather suspicious eye.
We had a wonderful lunch somewhere in the city – I’m pretty sure everything from the café we went to would have tasted heavenly. The mushroom and herb chicken was perfectly cooked (you could cut if with your fork) and sauced, the dessert of heavy crème on top of fresh strawberry parfait sweet, vegetables warm and flavorful, same for the bread.
After our very filling lunch, we hopped back on the coach for the ultimate French landmark – the Eiffel Tower, or La Tour Eiffel, or Der Eiffel Turm (German). Built for the 1899’s World’s Fair by Gustave Eiffel, the French people at first objected to the monument construction and its perceived mar on their view and skyline, to be torn down after the conclusion of the event. The tower is 324 meters tall and weighs over 10,000 tons. Present day is a much different story. The French now adore the tower, insistent that it remains a permanent part of their city. I can certainly understand why – it has a majestic beauty, proving the prowess of human intelligence, design, and architecture. The tower looks remarkably different from different angles on the ground and we had plenty of time to contemplate and photograph it while waiting for our tickets. We also snuck in a moment for some melty vanilla ice cream.
The entire trip up the tower, using a series of elevators and staying with the entire group, took about four hours. The experience of making it to the top was completely worth it – the view was unbelievable, with the windows telling you what directions and countries you were looking at. Since we spent so much time snaking through lines to the top, we had to run down the stairs (yes, run, and the stairs were endless) from the top of the tower to the very bottom. Even scarier than that much physical exertion was how the tower visibly swayed in the wind as we got closer to the top – I was not altogether heartbroken we got off it.
In addition to the street vendors, we were told to stay away from the Gypsies that live and, work, I suppose, around the major tourist attractions, Coincidentally, we stayed in a hotel near the Gypsy encampment in Paris, a large area of lean-to’s and trucks with campers underneath a freeway underpass. I can understand some people dislike their choice of a living (begging and stealing instead of working a self-supporting job), but I think some sympathy should be given to a people looked down upon for their ethnicity, and who grew up in an environment that supports propagating the lifestyle. We saw a few Gypsies by the Eiffel Tower – they tried to sell us something, but we told them no and they simply walked away. They were all women or small children – I held my purse close, but I felt no physical danger.
Another flashback – the outskirts of the city’s downtown are many ornate, old school apartment buildings. Some of the city’s residents tried to warm me against high prices, but I still occasionally dream about living there in s sunny flat.
Another interesting highlight of the day was going into the underground Metro system. We weren’t allowed to ride the actual trains, but walking underground from station to station avoids the dangers of crossing streets, etc. We were walking briskly, to say the least, and were still being passed by wafer-thin Parisian girls in sky-high stilettos.
Dinner after the tour was once again exquisite, though we got lost a few times before finally finding the restaurant, tucked away in an office park. Le Cordon Blu avec le poulet, “potato chips,” and crème brulee, which I had never had before but am now in love with. A perfect storm of sweetness and more sugar. French cooking is not overrated. And when we got back to the hotel, I tried my first Oragina – basically a perfect mixture of Sprite and orange juice in one bottle.
But while we got lost on our way to dinner, we passed by a huge concert venue and the poster for Depeche Mode was up. I MISSED MY FAVORITE BAND IN MY FAVOIRTE CITY. Sigh. Another sign announced Leonard Cohen would soon be there – another concert I would have died to go to.
A few observations about French culture:
The public bathrooms are much less private than in the US. One restaurant had only a half-wall between the girl’s sink and men’s urinal, which made all the delegates a little uncomfortably. Getting us all in and out of the bathroom was a feat everyplace we went, anyways.
I also found it a bit funny that the US always makes such a big deal out of free speech, yet the first thing we saw on a Paris street once we hopped out of the coach were hardcore porn mags displayed on the outside of a magazine stand. The TV and radio are also uncensored. I am always a supporter of the less censorship the better, but people have different comfort levels.
Another random thing I wondered while in Paris but also London and Dublin – How do they keep all those bloody white granite and marble statues clean!?! If that’s a job, best job ever.
I also think this was about the time it actually began to sink in that we were actually in Europe, and we would have to leave soon.
A song by a Parisian band, ironically named Phoenix makes me think of my Paris trip.
On the subject of music in France, this site has music from cities around the world, including Paris, London, and Amsterdam: http://citysounds.fm/
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