I could die here--really. I feel like this is my city even though I am lost with the language. Even when I travelled alone 25 years ago, I came through Paris numerous times, alone, and got around just fine. I get lost here in the streets and I mean that in an out-of-myself-no-pressing-commitments way--as though, I am an explorer wandering and not caring about time or where I even go. There is always something to see--the ironwork alone keeps me engaged. Patterns differ building to building and balcony to balcony and then the stone work with it’s added gargoyle or visage thrown in on a corner is captivating.
I have run through the streets three times ending up tired due to being allured to go farther by what may be next and there was always something: the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, the Musse de Armie, the Palais de Louvre, the Montparnasse, The Seine . . .
We headed to the Catacombs--creepy, dark, and damp and worth the 2 hour + wait--the longest we have waited for anything on the trip thus far.
Yesterday we did the Musee D’Orsay and had sandwiches and drinks at a small cafe as we walked through a neighborhood. It was World Music Day and we heard a band covering U2’s “Where the Streets Have No Name” and as we searched walking toward the sound, we saw our first European protest at the French National Ministry. The crowd was abruptly quieted as a funeral procession happened to drive by. The hearse was compact and a Mercedes. A thunder storm ensued and we ducked into the metro and headed back to the apartment--Javel/Andre Citroen.
Shawn and I walked out later leaving the kids and having our first time alone to talk in the past 5 days. We walked along The Seine and were stunned, well I was, at where we are in our lives and wondering what any of it means. After we (I) got over saying all that, we lived in Paris for the evening and had a most tasty meal--simple French fare: poached salmon, steak with pepper sauce, preceded by a beire picon (chick beer) and accompanied with a Bordueax and followed by fromage with calvados and cognac.
Today we ventured to The Louvre--worth it and very little grumbling from the kids. Some of those paintings “would never fit in our house,” according to Roman. Cyrus was in awe, I think, that we were really there and of the palatial nature of the building. Yes, we saw “Mona Lisa” as well as Venus de Milo and so much more --especially Delacroix. Roman recognized Cupid in a painting and we talked about which man is the bushes was having Cupid shoot which girl in the foreground with an arrow so they would “fall in love.”
We headed to the modern end of Paris with the Grande Arch--La Defense--you can see the Arc de Triomphe right down the avenue. We shopped a bit a the Mac store and Roman and I selected my perfume--Chanel Chance. I had to check on what I could bring home--300 ml or 3.4 oz and now I have to buy some. Shawn helped me choose a scarf and I got on YouTube to learn various ties for it. I hope it translates at home--they look lovely here--chic and they are warm--functional unlike the Eiffel Tower, which is aesthetically pleasing, but, as Shawn put it, “doesn’t serve any purpose.”
We have determined a few things about Paris: motorcycles rule the road and the Parisians ride a sleek variety of bikes--they all wear helmets. It appears that cars do NOT tailgate in traffic--Cyrus observed this. The sirens are a lot more interesting here according to Roman. No one wears bike helmets, adults ride scooters (like razor scooters), it smells really good like food and perfume (lots of jasmine) or really bad, like rotting fish and urine. There is less vegetation here, especially the gigantic fir and oak we see in Portland. The city definitely sleeps and wakes up and most of the people have much better English than we have French.
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