Yes, my (two or three) faithful readers, I know I have been gone a good long while. But fear not, for I have returned! And I will now go on to bore you at great length with the story of my recent trip to Paris. Yay!
For many years I have wanted to see the fabled city of love. My resolve strengthened again when I learned it only takes four hours by train from Amsterdam to Paris, and ticket prices go down to 25 euros one way. The only thing that held me back, was that I longed to visit this city, which I perceived to be a romantic one, with my love – who absolutely, positively refused to go anywhere near France.
However, after some months of gentle nagging, and the encouragement of a friend, he turned around and said he'd come with me (mind you, making jokes about how horrible France was bound to be up till the very end). And so it was that about a month and a half later, I found myself on the high speed train (which doesn't really get up to any sort of impressive speed until after Brussels), on my way to Paris, for a long weekend with Boyfriend.
As we came closer to our destination, I could feel the anticipation build, and the butterflies in my stomach get restless. It was the nervous excitement of meeting someone you love for the first time in a loong while. And when we finally got off the train at Gare du Nord, I could barely contain myself from jumping all over the place. I was in Paris!
Day 1 – arrival, and the Eiffel tower
The city was warm and inviting and full of life. There were a lot of impressive looking buildings (and even the normal residential ones has nice little wrought-iron balconies with green stuff hanging off them) – I almost felt like there was a landmark on every street corner. Now, you may think that sounds imposing and possibly even tiresome, but it works for Paris. So, after making Boyfriend walk with me the 40 minutes or so to our hotel (in the sun, with his jacket on, and carrying our backpack...), I decided a good stop for our first evening in Paris would be one of it's most famous landmarks – the Eiffel tower.
The seemingly endless line of people queuing up to get in was disheartening. But I didn't come all this way just to NOT go up the Eiffel tower. And we were lucky enough to have a street performer entertain us while we queued up (he was one of those people where at first you're not sure if they're a performer or just a crazy person – though when I looked into his eyes they were clear as day, which I feel usually signifies a healthy measure of sanity). When I was starting to give in from hunger and aching feet, we finally passed through the doors that led us to the first elevator up.
Unfortunately, by the time we arrived on the second floor (out of three), the sun that was setting when we were nearing the end of the line downstairs, had already set, leaving the city beneath us shrouded in the shadows of dusk. It was still a pretty amazing view. Less scary than I was expecting – at least for someone such as myself that claims to be afraid of heights – yet seeks them out almost whenever possible. The elevator ride freaked me out a bit, particularly the one from the second to the third floor (this one made some creaking sounds..), because we could see out of the elevator and down to the ground that was disappearing beneath us. I also noticed when we got off the first elevator that the floor actually seemed to be swaying slightly. Which was disconcerting at first, but which I quickly got used to. And we were well protected by high fences when we went out to look at the view. It was a interesting experience and worth a trip, in my view. Though I must admit my favourite part was sitting quietly on a bench in the dark after we came down again, just looking at the now illuminated tower lighting up the night sky.
Day 2 – the Louvre (and sushi!)
On awaking to our second day in Paris, without having gotten much sleep – I rarely sleep well in unfamiliar places, my mood was somewhat different to my normal grumpy morning frame of mind. I looked around me, and couldn't stop smiling. More than ready for a new Paris adventure. Luckily for Boyfriend, whose feet had not recovered from all the walking I had insisted we do the previous day (everything looked so much closer on the map than it turned out to be once we actually walked there!...), the Louvre – goal for the day, was only a few minutes walk from our hotel. And after a nice buffet breakfast with croissants, toast, cheeses, fruit, yoghurt and coffee, we were ready to take in some artistic masterpieces. Though of course, when you're in a museum you tend to walk around quite a bit too – so Boyfriend's feet gave up after a couple of hours (and one out of three wings of the museum), and I decided the rest of the exhibition could wait until my next visit. We opted for the wing with Italian and French masters, where they advertised amongst other works, Mona Lisa. Almost immediately when I walk into any type of museum that holds an exhibition of any interest to me (be it art, culture, history, religion or something else entirely), I feel happy and excited, and I think to myself that I really ought to do this sort of thing more often.
There were many impressions and many impressive pieces to see, though I won't dwell on each and every one – or I shall never finish writing this post. Two works in particular stay with me. One being the Winged Victory of Samothrace – a sculpture of the Greek goddess of victory, Nike. The now armless and headless sculpture gains much from its dramatic placement in the museum, at the top of a broad staircase. There is something fierce and triumphant about this winged woman, yet something also soft and defenceless (most likely strengthened by the fact that she no longer has a head or arms – which I think works to the sculptures advantage). The details and the sense of movement in this work is amazing. I stood and marvelled at it for quite a while, barely registering that busier/less impressed museumgoers were passing me by.
The other work was La Jeune Martyre by French painter Delaroche (and may I add that I suggest to google the image, as my photo is a poor substitute). There is something touching and slightly frightening in the way this young woman seems to willingly drift away, down to the depths. Though of course, that is what martyrs do; willingly give their lives for what they believe in. Still, there is something about the calmness and beauty in this work of art that almost takes my breath away. The image or idea of giving in to the water (be it ocean, lake or river) and giving it your life is something that's always appealed to my darker side. The sea has a mysterious, almost magical pull.
We did get to see the Mona Lisa as well, though there was a fence several metres in front of it which you were not allowed to pass, and quite a big group of people already gathered behind this fence. And as you may be aware, the Mona Lisa is not a particularly large work of art, and it was therefore not possible to see many details of the painting from the distance at which we had to stand. Something I found disappointing. I understand the need to preserve great works of art, but it was already behind glass, and had guards on both sides. Why not let us look a little bit more closely? I did not exactly experience what Walter Benjamin refers to as the “aura of art”. The idea that a work of art reflects also the times it has lived through, the people that have looked at it and the feelings they have projected onto it. I like this idea, and I usually get this feeling of awe when viewing great works of art, which I think coincides with this "aura" theory.
Since we finished with the Louvre (this time around) earlier than expected, we suddenly had a wealth of time on our hands, and decided to hop on a water taxi type of boat that takes you up and down the Seine to places like the Louvre, the Eiffel tower and Notre Dame. It's a pleasant way to travel, not too expensive for a day ticket (particularly considering that we were given one by a woman just coming on the boat – and we passed on our tickets to another couple wanting to go onto the boat later that evening), and you get to see the city from a slightly different perspective.
We hopped off at Notre Dame – a magnificent site, when looking up from the brink of the river. I had initially planned to climb the tower, but changed my mind when I saw how crowded the area around the cathedral was, and also feeling how warm it was getting again. Maybe next time. Instead we sat down outside a café nearby for some lunch. And by lunch I mean wine and cheese for me, and lemon sorbet (and later a crepe) for Boyfriend. The things you can allow yourself on holiday...
We hopped onto the boat again, and decided to get off at Jardins des Plantes, never having heard of it, but assuming it was some sort of park. Which indeed it was. Nice and quiet since the sky had greyed over, some blossoming trees and flowers, and time for me to sit down and write in my notebook about my thoughts and experiences of Paris so far – and to reflect on how lucky I was to be able to have such an experience, which after all, is not something one should take for granted.
After going back to the hotel (again by boat back to the Louvre stop) for a quick nap – which for me translates to reading in bed, we went out in search of sushi. Something we thought we'd find easily, given the enormous number of Japanese restaurants we seemed to have passed on our way over there from the train station the previous day. And indeed, there seemed to be an entire street full of Japanese restaurants just metres from our hotel. However, they seemed to sell only other Japanese food and no sushi (up until this point I must confess I had thought of Japanese food, at least in terms of restaurants serving it, largely as sushi). And for some reason they were all mysteriously full. Granted, it was Friday night, but given the ridiculous number of Japanese restaurants, one would have thought they'd be able to accommodate everyone in Paris if they all simultaneously decided to go out for Japanese food (which is perhaps precisely what they did..). After wandering around a little longer, we saw a bright sign down the road with the words “Hello Sushi” on them – which seemed promising. This restaurant was half empty – which Boyfriend said was probably due to the fact that sushi seemed to be quite a bit more expensive than other Japanese food. Nonetheless we got a boatload of sushi (quite literally speaking) for a significantly lower price than back home, and though the quality wasn't completely on par with our local sushi place, it was still good.
Satisfied with a successful second day in Paris, we returned to our hotel room for some more reading before bed time (and in my case a couple more glasses of white wine..).
Day 3 – sightseeing by help of the Paris metro
As even I could see that the distance from our hotel to the Montmartre area was considerable, we opted to get metro tickets for our third day. And what a good idea that turned out to be. Cheap, efficient and easy to navigate – absolutely recommended for anyone visiting Paris.
Montmartre, even though having the feel of being a tourist trap (and therefore also quite crowded), did still exude some of the artsy charm I had imagined. Nice little buildings and cobblestone streets (which admittedly we have quite a few of here at home as well...), and little shops selling local sweets, postcards and art prints met us when we wandered into one of the little streets behind the Sacré-Coeur.
The Sacré-Coeur stands atop a hill, providing a nice view of the city stretched out below.
Along your way up the hill, don't be surprised to be approached by several very persistent black men seemingly trying to sell you coloured pieces of string (I never found out if that was indeed what they were selling, as I found their continued persistence even after I had politely said “no thanks” annoying, and avoided them as much as possible). This church we did go into. It was nice, but very crowded, so I didn't get my usual feeling of church calm. After we'd wandered around a bit more outside, and I had purchased some nice black and white photos of Paris (which I plan to hang over my desk here, and which I hope will help inspire me to write), I decided that it was time to see Moulin Rouge. So back on the metro it was. We resurfaced right across the street from the place itself, and left again a few minutes later. It turns out Moulin Rouge is nothing more than a building with a red windmill on top, next to a heavily trafficed street. Didn't I already know this, you may ask. And yes, apart from the traffic, I did. But somehow I had imagined that the surrounding area would have kept intact the old time bohemian feel of Paris, that you get from for instance the movie by the same name. Not so much.
But no matter – there was still more of Paris to see. Next stop, Arc de Triomph. We also stayed here very briefly, as Boyfriend was not in favour of more climbing up stairs, or walking of any kind for that matter, and I decided that two views of Paris from above (Eiffel tower and Sacré-Coeur) was enough for one trip. Again, maybe next time.
Due in part to the brevity of our last two stops, and in part to the efficiency of the metro, we again found ourselves with more time on our hands than expected (rather the opposite of what is usually the case when on a short holiday and trying to cover a lot of ground). So we decided on a picnic in the Jardin Tuileries, by the Louvre. It was nice to eat some cheese and drink some wine (again..), and just relax and watch the people pass. One guy came walking straight towards us, before he abruptly turned and headed straight into one of the hedges. I heard him rummaging around inside the bushes, and thought he was involved in some sort of shady drug deal. But then he came marching out of there again carrying one of those big flat cases that architects and artists use to carry their drawings around in.. I guess that's what you get for picnicing by one of the worlds most famous art museums (or alternatively the guy was just hiding his drugs inside the carry case).
For dinner that evening we went to a genuine French bistro(t). The food was nothing special (frankly I think my own béarnaise sauce is better than the one I got in this bistro, even though it was invented by the French), but the atmosphere was exactly what I was after. Chequered tablecloths, shelves of fake books and wine bottles (and for some strange reason 80s hit songs instead of amorous cantatas), dripping candles – you name it. And we spent a very pleasant evening there.
Day 4 – modern art, and departure
The plan for our last day in Paris was to see modern art at Centre Pompidou. We were lucky enough to be in Paris on the first Sunday of the month – which means free entrance (to the Louvre as well, I believe)! We decided to avail ourselves of the metro once more, since it worked out so splendidly the day before. And again, we were not disappointed. We arrived outside the museum to see a huge queue. Which turned out to be for the library. The entrance for the museum was on the other side of the building, and there we could walk straight in (mind you, there was a long line for entrance there too later in the day).
When we walked around the first floor of the exhibition, I thought to myself “yeah, I don't like modern art”. Most of this floor seemed to be filled up by kiddie drawings that are called art because someone famous did it, or someone with an art degree, or perhaps a very good PR team. This is the sort of thing that annoys me. I could splash a bit of paint on a canvas and call it art too – but nobody's going to want to see that. By the time we got the second floor however, my frustration dissipated, and I was once again filled with joy. So many colours and shapes, beautiful and strange, and sometimes quite disturbing. This was modern art at it's best. I even recognised some names and styles from my mothers art books that I used to look at when I was younger (Matisse, Chagall, Picasso..). With modern art it is a lot harder to describe why I like something. More often than not it's just a feeling. Suffice it to say that I spent some very enjoyable hours here and it was well worth the visit after all.
When our train pulled out from Gare du Nord a few hours later, part of me was sad to be leaving, but a much larger part was happy to have had such a thoroughly enjoyable experience, and it is certainly something I shall always remember. And Boyfriend found that a few of his prejudices were indeed just that. All the French people we met on our trip spoke English and were nice and helpful. So I think I can proclaim the trip to have been a successful one for us both, even though Boyfriend would rather have gone to London.
So, London next?....
