Shedding most material goods, I set for Paris, city I always avoided visiting. Yet, I leave impressed by the majesty of its iconic elements. The French spare no expense.
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March of Grandeur
It took me a while to orient myself after the bus ride, and I was surprised the security examined everyone’s backpack simply to enter the mall (but with what’s been happening lately, perhaps not so surprising). Soon, I made sense of my location and marched down Champ d’Elise with the Arc de Triomphe in sight, stopping to make my first purchase: an umbrella. The rain clearly marked France’s discontent with my arrival.
Passing the infamous arch took longer than I expected from the photos. I compared prices of various restaurants and patisseries as I continued to Hôtel des Invalides. But Napoleon’s grave would not be seen today, for the oversized structure was fenced from all sides. An event? Security risk? Or just coming too late?
Having already walked miles of the famous road and 7pm (oh sorry, 19:00 – we’re in Europe now) on the clock, it was time to head to my hostel, conveniently on the other side of town. The Parisian transit, just as Poland’s, is leaps ahead of Los Angeles. The frequent schedul means one can get to almost any part of the city without checking timetables. Even navigating the maze-like undergrounds is easy with tons of signs. Plus, sometimes you get live music to boot:
Uncé, uncé.
Kebab, food of the French?
I got settled in my hostel around 21:00 and was positively starving. Having passed countless small cafes and ogling the cheesy croquet monsieurs or the steaks with pommes de terre, I was ready for a real French meal! But once again, the country expressed its displeasure with me.
Turns out the hostel was in a “hip” part of town featuring only the finest cheap Asian food, bars, and a McDonalds. Oh boy. Well, at least I saved a bunch of Euros which would soon be re-invested in alcohol. I have to give them props for presentation, though. Even a crappy kebab is appetizingly laid out on big tray with fries leisurely scattered next to splats of various dips.
Baby Pints and Australians
As I sipped my beer and checked my email, I met a fellow Australian traveler. He was off to a party in Barcelona soon, complaining about European raves not having the right vibes thus angering the earth spirits, apparently a BigDeal™ in Australian psychedelic rock scene. Well, unlike my Polish companion during prior flight, Travis was not quite my type of a guy…
I pondered the tiny 0.25L sizes of bottles and glasses, a joke by many countries’ standards. I concluded I quite liked the joke; combined with cheaper prices, it gave me a chance to try different types of beers and flavors without getting shitfaced in the process. A boon to connoisseurs of variety.
And so I drank on alone, fixing a website emergency my clients desperately begged me to jump on asap. Because, I’m masochistically workaholic, it seems.
Day two begins with Pilgrimage… and Crêpes!
After less-than-comfortable sleep with all my clothes and goods on me in a room shared by 16, I pulled a map and planned my route. I gave up the convenience of metro in favor of soaking the feel of the small and big streets, navigating not by names but endless arches and monuments generously scattered every few corners. I noted the curious diversity of people and languages heard. Armed troops guarding government buildings. And Syrian beggars wearing their burkas. Paris was, to my surprise, continuing to intrigue.
First stop: Notre Dame. The cathedral, once again, was far bigger than I expected from tiny 1200×720 pictures on Google. After another bag check, the solemnly grandiose insides featured an odd see-through confession booth (where you could watch the priest reading a book for some reason) and a visualized history of the structure. I never knew it took centuries to build into its final shape. Respect goes to the French dedication.
My energy levels tanking as usual, I figured I ought to force a sugar boost. And what better way than the French crêpes à la confiture de fraise? I did not crave one at all, but walking by the stand and watching the creation of the steamy goodness convinced me. Or at least, the rational voice finally kicked in.
While it was delish, I was disappointed it was just like the Polish ones I’ve made myself countless times before.
Louvre, my Love
I was running short on time, made no better by the waiting to have our belongings x-ray-ed (thank god without the need to take the shoes of). But even with just an hour inside, I am glad I paid the relatively cheap 15 euro ticket and trudged through exhaustion of a post-sugar-rush-no-more. Napoleon’s chambers were simply amazing, in the full dictionary definition of the word, not the way internet hipsters like me abuse it these days.
Once again, majestic beyond a trite photo, it dawned on me how luxuriously these people lived. Even today’s CEOs with their penthouses and private jets seem feeble in contrast with the rooms upon rooms of hand-crafted ornaments, gold-rimmed walls, and heavy curtains hanging from overly tall ceilings. Now this is how one throws a dinner party!
I swung by the Greek statues and checked out some sarcophaguses as well. The Egyptians loved their monkey-faced-bird-gods as much as the Greeks enjoy showing their anatomically perfect bodies (except the tiny penises, but hey, maybe I’m the one not anatomically correct hehe). And yet, it wasn’t these detailed sculpts, but the massive pillar with decorated top weighing several tons, which involuntarily opened my mouth. Especially when originally lifted to some thirty feet in the air. Fifty times over. With no advanced machinery of today. Just consider.
Le Café?
Exhausted, I sat down at a brasserie for a nice cup of espresso and sorting of my impending Lyon trip. The waiter hated me from the start. I am not sure why, but perhaps it was the final sign the city had enough of me. I got my crappy Polish phone working with abroad roaming, responded to a few WorkAway messages, and found the nearest market to buy provisions.
Culinary indecisions once again made me terribly late as I sprinted towards my bus just 10 minutes away from departing. Wearing the full gear I already carried almost 15km today. But thank god the French are more than proverbially always late!
Retrologue
I mentioned I never wanted to visit Paris. Doing so always felt like epitome of the “dumb tourist” taking pictures of statues and kissing on the Eiffel tower because “we have to do that on a Europe trip!”
Today I eat my words.
Paris impressed me with the sheer SIZE of its historical artistry. It is no mere pretentious addition but a defining element of its layout. The Arc de Triomphe takes a long while to get around, the L’hôtel des Invalides feels like something built for people 5 times too big, and the Louvre is a palace one could lose two days in and still not see every nook and cranny.
The pictures are NOTHING like actually standing next to these colossal structures, and there is no dearth of them around the city. Never mind the endless vastness of infinite Space; it’s these towering giants that really make you feel tiny. Just consider the time, cost and effort required…
Next up: I get a different side of France in a southern town of Lyon, toured by an old internet friend. How will it differ? Will it make me revert to hating tourism? The cliffhangers continue in next part!
Read on the next Part about Lyon’s Hidden Art and Delicious Cuisines!
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