I was almost done with the loop when I spotted a leather satchel under a tree by the water. No phone or wallet, but a lot of other stuff in it, and some mail with an address. So I figured I'd better turn it in to the police. Only I couldn't remember where the nearest station was, so I trudged a LONG way before I got to the one by Georgi-Haus. Good grief, that bag was heavy! I was so relieved to finally give it to the police so I didn't have to carry it anymore. Maybe the lady dumped it on purpose because she was so tired of lugging it around . . .
Also, Indra's birthday present to me finally came in the mail today! She was so excited for me to open it. It is SO CUTE! It's a personalized green ceramic bowl with Olaf from Frozen on it, and he has a little speech bubble coming out of his mouth where he is saying "Sommer!" (Not a misspelling, it's the German word.) I love it because the green and the German remind me of Indra, and because I can use it to eat cereal out of, and of course because it has Olaf on it!!!
Anyway, I am officially finishing this Paris saga today! I have to, or I'll never get around to doing any homework before I leave for London!
Sorry this post is so long . . . Photos at bottom, as usual.
Day 6: May 27, 2014
I hadn't been to the Père-Lachaise cemetery yet, so I decided to make that my first activity of the day. After breakfast and a baguette purchase, I walked there--it wasn't very far--and spent the next few hours tripping around exploring the cemetery.
This place is pretty crazy! It's about two centuries old, and over 70,000 people are buried there. Especially in the center and the southwestern corner (which I think are some of the oldest parts), it feels like a maze. Even with a map, it's really hard to find your way. I didn't know where the main entrance was, so I actually ended up going in the back way and didn't get a map. I took a photo of the map on the board at that entrance and kept having to look at the picture on my camera to navigate, which made it a bit more tricky. Probably that was dumb of me--once I figured out that real maps were available, I should have gone to the main entrance and gotten one. In some spots, though, even the people I saw with maps seemed confused, simply because there are so many little streets and pathways and SO many graves of all sizes. The navigation wasn't really a problem except for when I had a desperate need for the bathroom and couldn't find it! I was literally about to explode when I finally came around the other side of one of the buildings near the main entrance and saw the "WC" sign. Phew!
There are a lot of famous people buried at Père-Lachaise. In The Count of Monte Cristo, it is also the place where the Villefort family has their burial vault. Because of the maze-y quality of the place, it can be a real challenge to find the graves, even though they are marked on the map. The plots aren't labeled with numbers, and you don't know what sort of a tomb the famous person is buried in until you find it. In a way, it's kind of fun, like a scavenger hunt. Though I think it would take all day, at least, to find every famous grave listed on the map! There were a lot of people at the graves of the musicians and writers: Fréderic Chopin, Edith Piaf, and Oscar Wilde (the last of whose grave was extremely ugly, with some kind of a weird winged Art Deco-ancient Aztec-ancient Egypt-combo figure). Jim Morrison was buried there, but I didn't ever listen to the Doors and I knew five dozen people would be probably thronging his grave, so I didn't even bother to look for it.
I found the tombs of all these people:
- Gioacchino Rossini (composer of the "William Tell Overture")
- Baron Haussmann (in charge of the remodel of Paris under Napoleon III)
- Théodore Géricault (painter of The Raft of the Medusa, which is in the Louvre)
- Honoré Daumier (political activist and artist who advocated the French Republic during the turbulent times of the early 1800s)
- Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres (Romantic painter of the mid-1800s, known for depicting exotic Turkish scenes; his work is in the Louvre)
- Jacques Louis David (did all the most famous paintings of Napoleon, such as Coronation of Napoleon and Napoleon Crossing the Alps; he was AMAZING and most of his works are in the Louvre)
- Georges Seurat (Impressionist/Post-Impressionist painter, most famous for the pointillist "tiny dot" painting Sunday on La Grande Jatte)
- Georges Bizet (composer, best known for the opera Carmen)
- Gustave Caillebotte (painter from the mid-1800s; a few of his pieces are in the Musée d' Orsay)
- Georges Méliès! (pioneer of early filmmaking, whose life is the central focus of the Hugo movie)
After that I zoomed to Sainte-Chapelle, which is on the Île de la Cité west of Notre Dame. I wanted to visit it before it closed at 6. (On the way I peeked inside another church, Eglise St-Gervais, but it wasn't terribly spectacular.) Sainte-Chapelle is actually inside the courtyard of the Palais de Justice (Palace of Justice), and you have to go through a security checkpoint to enter. I got free entry (I love you, student ID card!). And thankfully, I squeaked in just a couple minutes before they closed the admission for the day.
The chapel is absolutely AMAZING! A fair amount of tourists go here, but you can definitely see why. The building itself is tall, but doesn't have a lot of square footage. What makes it so impressive is its two stories and its stained glass. There is a small downstairs chapel on the first level with a low vaulted ceiling and a statue of St. Louis (medieval king who was the original benefactor of the church). The walls, columns, and ceiling are beautifully painted in red, blue, and gold with star, castle, and fleur-de-lys motifs. There are also some very nice stained glass windows. This first level is enough of a wow factor, but when you go up the little spiral staircase to the second story, your jaw really drops. The chapel is basically a minimal stone frame with such large and tall windows that it looks more like it is has stained glass walls. All the colors . . . it's like looking at a million jewels. Thousands of little pictures in the windows illustrate most of the Old Testament books, the life of Christ, the Last Judgment, and the historical events surrounding the creation of the chapel. The rear windows and some of the side windows were covered up because they're finishing a six-year restoration project on the stained glass, but that didn't detract from the spectacularity of what you could see. Even the floor had fancy patterns on it. I felt like I could stay and look at it for hours if it hadn't been closing time. I only was there for about ten minutes before they kicked everyone out, but I didn't mind. At least I had gotten to see it. Highly recommended to anyone who is planning a Paris trip!
After that I walked over to the Latin quarter near St. Michel, where the Sorbonne, Panthéon, and all the Universities of Paris are. I figured I should at least have a quick peek at them. The Panthéon's dome is currently being renovated. It is open during renovation, but I got there too late to go in. I checked out the outside though, and also peeked into one other church just behind it, St. Étienne-du-Mont. This district rather obviously has the full-on student vibe. It was 6:30 by then, but there were still some young people getting on and off the bus, walking back and forth with backpacks and school bags, or sitting on the ground leaning against a wall with a snack, iPod, and textbook open on the lap. College life is the same everywhere!
Then I went back down into St. Michel to make one final attempt at finding Le Procope. It was my last night in Paris, and by hook or by crook I was going to eat at a nice restaurant in honor of my birthday! I decided to try going a different way, down the one part of the Boulevard St-Germain that I hadn't walked before, and--lo and behold--there was a little narrow street off to the right that looked really old. I wandered down it a little bit. On the left side of the street was an old-looking building, like early 1800s style, and a sign: Le Procope.
Yessss!
I had a peek at the menu. They had an offer for a two-course meal for 20 euros, like Cindy had told me about. So I went in. It was definitely fancy: white tablecloths and multi-glass, multi-utensil table settings.
It turned out I went in the back way. (That was the theme for the day, apparently.) I was promptly seated at a table for two in a room where several other parties were already seated. I think at that point we were the only occupied room in the place. At another table for two immediately next to me (the tables were pretty tight) was an elderly man in a suit, around 75 years old.
Unbeknownst to me, my Paris restaurant experience was about to take on the quality of a scene from a novel or a film.
I got my menu and started perusing it, and didn't pay much attention to the old man until he nudged me and asked, "What will you have?" I told him I had to decide, and I wasn't sure yet. He said, "The oysters are very good." I told him that I didn't think I wanted something as fancy or expensive as oysters, and that I liked fish and chicken best. He told me, "I recommend the coq au vin. Chicken in wine, very good."
"Okay, thank you," I said politely, and went on looking at the 20-euro menu (which did not include coq au vin, unfortunately).
"And what will you have to drink?" he asked me. I told him, "Oh, just water." He looked at me. "That won't do at all," he said. "You must have some sort of wine!" I started to say I wasn't going to get wine because I don't have a taste for it (anyone who knows me knows I don't drink at all), but he said, "Here. You must try mine." He picked up the little carafe on his table and poured me a glass.
"Um, thank you," I said, and tasted it. Bitter, of course, at least to someone who really does have no taste for anything alcoholic, but I could tell it was a pretty nice wine, so I periodically sipped it to be polite. It was red, but actually chilled, and a bit thinner than most red wines I've seen, so that made it a little less potent.
When the waiter came (at the request of the old man, who informed him, "Mademoiselle is ready to order now"), I ordered from the 20-euro menu, which only had a couple of choices. Terrine (which is a kind of pâté) with a miniature salad for the first course, and some kind of white fish garnished with bell peppers, spices, and butter and served with potatoes for the second course. It was rich (especially the terrine) and super delicious. The old man had jumbo shrimp with butter for his first course, veal kidney in a dark sauce with spicy mustard for his main course, and vanilla ice cream with strawberries and crème Chantilly for his dessert. All the while, he asked me questions about myself, where I was from, and what places in Paris I had visited. He was obviously a regular, because all the servers seemed to know him. They smiled and obliged him, even when he was putting in requests for me--"Please bring a dessert menu for mademoiselle"--and they chatted with him when he asked them about their countries of origin. (It was actually quite an international place. Most of the diners were tourists, one waiter was Italian, and one of the waitresses was from Russia. I think the old man was the only French patron in the room.)
There was an Australian couple from Melbourne sitting on the other side of him. He started chatting with them too, and pretty soon we had a three-table conversation going (with occasional input to and from other tables). The old man did tell us some things about himself too--he was a lawyer, his sons had studied in New York, he himself had traveled quite a bit. He said he was in Las Vegas last year, and he asked me if I had ever been there.
For dessert I had the handmade fruit sorbet. I wanted tiramisu, but after the terrine and fish I was too full for that. The old man kept telling me I should get the strawberries and ice cream, but I told him it would be too much. (It was funny--the one time the waiter wouldn't put up with him was when they brought his dessert. They set down the ice cream and strawberries in front of him, and the dish of whipped crème Chantilly next to it. He picked the cream up and set it on my table. "Mademoiselle may have the cream," he said. The waiter said firmly, "Non," and put it back on the old man's table. I think they were a bit irritated that he was discouraging me from paying for my own food!)
At some point the Australian guy said, "Oh, by the way, my name is Bob and this is my wife Sally." (I don't remember what the names actually were.) He asked me what my name was, I told them, and then he turned to the old man. "And you are . . . ?"
The old Frenchman waved his hand. "Bah. Does not matter. It is not important."
At that moment, I decided he was the most endearing old man ever.
Before he left, he told me and the Australians that we had to see the upstairs rooms. "This is an old restaurant, very historic." He told the Italian waiter, "Be sure you give them a tour of the upstairs. They must see it."
"Of course, Monsieur," the waiter agreed with a smile.
The old man finished his coffee, paid his bill, set his napkin down, and said, "I will leave now. Au revoir, mademoiselle, I wish you all the best in Paris." And he kissed me on each cheek--the Parisian way--then got up from his table, shook hands warmly with Bob and Sally, and left the restaurant.
I still have no idea who he was, and (like Ineke) I took no pictures of him. It was honestly like he stepped right off the pages of a book. And somehow the fact that he wouldn't tell anyone his name added to his overall charm. It was almost better not to know who he was.
These kinds of experiences generally seem to be nonexistent in California.
Anyway, the waiter showed us the upstairs as promised, and it was very cool. The restaurant wasn't at all busy that night, but it is actually quite large, and it has been open since the 1600s. Many famous political figures and writers frequented it in the Revolution days. The wallpaper says "Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité" on it, with the axe and rosette of the French Revolution era, and upstairs they have the table where Voltaire used to sit and drink cup after cup of coffee every time he came in. They also have, framed on the wall, the original of the last note Marie Antoinette wrote from prison before she went to the guillotine!
The staff was very nice and let me stay as long as I wanted while I did some drawing. I finished my sorbet and slowly managed to sip my way through about three-quarters of the wine glass. In tiny occasional amounts, it was definitely a nice compliment to the rich dinner.
I didn't leave the restaurant until after 10. I didn't want to go . . . it had been awesome. 30 euros for a three-course meal, and some very interesting people. I think I had the Paris restaurant experience, even if the restaurant had more of a tourist clientele than a local clientele. That one old Frenchman gave the place some serious vitality and atmosphere!
I did one final night walk along the Seine and past Notre Dame, and then sat and savored my spice-bread caramel on the Pont Notre-Dame, listening to a street musician play his saxophone on the other side of the bridge.
It was an amazing night.
Day 7: May 28, 2014
My last day! I was sad to have to leave, but my flight was in the evening so at least I had most of the day.
I had one last light breakfast in the hostel, but this time I had only one roll instead of two because I wanted to get one special pastry or baked goodie from a boulangerie before I left Paris.
First I got Marni a French chocolate bar at the market, and then went across the street to McDonald's. I hated having to go into a McDonald's in Paris, but they had free wi-fi and I needed to download my boarding pass. So I went in just long enough to get the mobile pass on my iPod, and then bailed out. So weird . . . they look the same even in France, only they offer French things like macarons and croissants in addition to the regular menu. (Can you imagine a McDonald's macaron??? UGH. Who in their right mind would ever eat that?!?)
Rather obviously, I went to a place that sold REAL French bakery food to get my special treat. It literally took me 20 minutes to decide. They had so much good stuff! Tiramisu, fruit and chocolate tartelettes, gâteaux, millefeuilles, opéras . . . I was at a loss. At long last I chose a nice large slice of chocolate torte. I walked down the street to Place de la République and ate it, very slowly, sitting on the fountain in the place. And WOW. It was like a chocolate overdose, but SO GOOD. White crust that was like a pie crust, with a bitter ganache filling and a super-sweet chocolate glaze over top. I didn't regret my choice at all. Spent about 20 minutes eating it, to be sure I got the maximum enjoyment out of it.
After that I took the Metro to the Bibliothèque Nationale de France (National French Library) south of the Gare d'Austerlitz. I thought it was the famous library with the Industrial Revolution style ceiling and the arched windows. Come to find out, it was the modern library, which was not at all exciting to look at and which required a pass or an admission fee to enter the collections. (Later when I got home, I looked up the library I had wanted to visit and had a moment of extreme annoyance. The one I had been thinking of was the Biblithèque Sainte-Geneviève, which is at the University of Paris just next to the Panthéon. I had been right there, standing just outside it, right next to its wall, and I hadn't known it! Argh! I was like, "Really? REALLY?? Seriously?" So annoying!)
Anyway, that felt like a waste of time, which was a bummer. I took the Metro back to the Île de la Cité to see if I could do the Notre Dame tour before I had to go back to the hostel and get my bag to leave for the airport.
It turned out that the free guided tour is separate from the tour up into the bell towers, which you have to pay for. But it was a God moment--I ended up at Notre Dame right at 2 o' clock, when the daily guided tour in English was starting! So I zoomed inside. At first all I saw was the French-speaking tour sign, and then the lady appeared with the English sign. Immediately thirty or so people around me were like, "ENGLISH!' and all swarmed around the tour guide. I didn't want to be stuck in a huge tour group. If only I could be in a little group, like the French one with only four people, I thought. I looked at the English tour, then at the French tour, then back at the English tour . . .
And walked over to the group under the "Visite française" sign.
The tour guide asked me, in French, if I was French-speaking. I told her, very sloppily, that I didn't know much but that the English tour was too big. She seemed a little concerned for me, but I told her it would be fine, I could understand enough.
The tour was pretty long--like two hours--and it was definitely a challenge. My brain hurt! And I don't think I got nearly as much information out of it as I would have in the English tour. But it was a good experience, I think, and it was definitely nice to be in a smaller group. And I got to spend more time inside Notre Dame, which was of course awesome.
After the tour was done, I talked to the tour guide a little bit, as best I could, and thanked her. Then I sat in the church for a little bit longer. There was a young couple by me that was praying and crying, and I asked if they needed me to pray with them, but they said they were okay.
It was actually amazing--while I was sitting there and drawing, I started thinking how incredible it is that we can talk to God, no matter where we are or what we're doing, and He hears us and will answer. We are worth nothing, but He hears us and cares about everything we have to say. I had kind of a sudden emotional moment, because I just was suddenly struck by the weight of that thought. God hears me. And He hears any of His children who call on Him. That is amazing.
I had to leave then, because it was 5 o' clock. I collected myself, put away my sketchbook, had one last look at the beautiful arches and stained glass, and left the church. It was raining outside, like even the weather was sad I was leaving. I put up my umbrella, zoomed to the caramel and macaron shop in St. Michel and bought some caramels for Indra and Petra, and then took the Metro back to my hostel to get my other backpack. From the hostel I took the Metro to the Gare du Nord. Aaaarrrrghh! It was so frustrating to be leaving at that time! It was rush hour and there were a zillion people cramming every train, every stairway, and every passageway. At the Gare du Nord I went out the front of the station and bought a crêpe with butter to go, then went back inside and, after much frustration and annoyance, succeeded in buying my ticket to the airport and finding the train line I needed. Only when I finally got onto the train to the airport was I able to calm down. I don't know why, but I just got incredibly irritated and angry while I was trying to figure out the ticket thing. All the ticket machine lines had been long, I couldn't find the correct train because there were so many stairways and signs and people milling around everywhere . . . but I had left my hostel with plenty of time to get to the airport, and I wasn't late or anything. So I don't know why I got so annoyed--lack of sleep, maybe.
Anyhow, I ate my crêpe on the train, found my terminal without trouble, and was at the gate with 20 minutes to spare. It was a nice and mellow flight back, and I was in Hamburg by 10 pm.
So there you have it. Paris. Cross that off my bucket list! I hope I can go back someday. It is a beautiful city, and I had such a good time there. The best birthday week I could have asked for!
Bam. DONE.
Here are more photos from Days 6 and 7!
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| Some of the vaults were really old and a lot of them had been vandalized or had trash thrown in them, which I thought was sad. |
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| One of the streets in the cemetery was named Rachel . . . |
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| and it also had a crypt with my name on it. Creepy! |
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| Lots of green! |
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| Thank you, Mr. Rossini, for the William Tell Overture!!! |
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| Géricault's grave--notice the plaque depicting the Raft of the Medusa on the front of it. |
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| Chopin's grave |
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| Georges Méliès's grave! There were rolled-up notes in the scrolly things on the posts at the sides of the gravestone. |
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| The view of the Place des Vosges out Victor Hugo's apartment window |
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| The Pont Notre-Dame, which in Les Misérables is the bridge where Inspector Javert commits suicide. The prefecture of police is still located next to this bridge, in the big white building on the left side of the picture. |
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| Lower chapel of Sainte-Chapelle |
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| Ceiling of the lower chapel . . . so neat! |
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| The upper chapel! WOW! |
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| So many colors! Imagine being the one who made this . . . |
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| Place du Panthéon, in the student district |
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| The Panthéon (dome is currently under renovation) |
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| Fancy! |
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| Drawing at Le Procope |
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| Le Procope, later in the evening. (The old Frenchman and the Aussies had left by this point.) |
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| Upstairs room at Le Procope. It was unoccupied that night. |
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| The "Voltaire table" |
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| Marie Antoinette's last note before meeting Madame La Guillotine |
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| Walking on the Seine quay after dinner |
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| Night views of Notre Dame |
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| Shadows on the opposite quay |
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| And the next day . . . CHOCOLATE BOMB!!!!! |
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| My final visit to Notre Dame |
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| Fun with a baguette |
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| nom nom nom |
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| Waiting out a downpour under a tree at the Jardin du Luxembourg |
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| My only Eiffel Tower pics are the far-away ones. |
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| "Favorite landmark in Paris? Hmmm . . . not sure about that . . ." |
Finally the long awaited photos of Sainte Chapelle - absolutely beautiful! I'm so glad you were able to see it for me:D
ReplyDeleteAnd I loved the story of the old French gentleman at La Procope...especially the part about Marie Antoinette's final note before Madame La Guillotine. Adieu! Adieu!