Yeah, so I almost missed my train to Paris on Friday night. I figured an hour and a half would be plenty of time for me to get home from work, throw a few final things in my backpack, and take a cab to the train station but I ended up getting there only 15 minutes before the train was supposed to leave. Luckily security is pretty much non-existent on the trains and I had just enough time to throw my bag through the scanner, tell the French gendarme that I was just visiting for the weekend, and flop into my seat before the train left the station. I was kind of surprised that most of the other people on the train were French. Maybe they all work in London during the week and head home to party on the weekends? Either way I almost felt like I was traveling again like last summer even though for some reason Paris never really felt as foreign as it had the last few times I'd traveled there. Maybe it was because I was only going for two days or because it's only two and a half hours away from where I live but I definitely didn't expect that.
Once I stepped off the train though it was as if I had never left. The station looked exactly as it had when I was there last summer and everything even smelled familiar. I walked around the station for 45 minutes trying to find an ATM or even remember the word for ATM in French but I didn't care- I was just happy to be back. I think the American woman behind me in line for the ticket machine was about to have a panic attack and I probably would have as well if I hadn't known at least a little French. I say “a little” because even though I took French for 5 years it's been a while since I heard or spoke it and the real French people don't actually speak in simple sentences like my teachers led me to believe. Once I was on the Metro and on the way to my hotel I finally had a chance to relax and it hit me that I was actually in Paris again.
Climbing out of the Metro station in the the Place de St Michel in the heart of the Latin quarter made me feel even more as if I had never left. The Gibert Jaune book shops were still there, the crepe stands and gyros shops hadn't left, and the crowds were exactly as I had remembered them. My hotel was right in the heart of all of this mayhem (as you can see from my pictures) which I guess could be good or bad, depending on how you look at it. If you're there with your family or you have a hard time sleeping with any noise then you might hate it but this place couldn't get any more perfect for me. Late into the night you can hear the crowds, the guitar players singing Greek ballads in the Mediterranean restaurants, and the breaking plates in the Greek tradition. Even if I ever did start to get annoyed all I would have had to do was think about the restaurants selling gyros right outside my hotel door. Gyros are a little different here but mostly because they add French fries inside the pita, which obviously couldn't make anything worse.
Saturday and Sunday I spent walking around the city, exploring places I'd never been before and revisiting the ones I loved the most. Saturday I probably walked about 10 miles from my hotel by Notre Dame to the Arc de Triomphe, back down to the Pont des Invalides, across the Seine to la Tour d'Eiffel, back up to the Arc and down the Champs Elysees again, and finally back to my hotel. For lunch I had a four cheese pizza which might sound no different than any pizza in the US except that this one had mozzarella, Roquefort, chevre, and camembert. They must have just thrown huge chunks of cheese on top because it still had the melted skins from each different type of cheese on top. So good!
For dinner I bought some tomato herb bread, a slab of goat cheese “avec plus de goute”, and a bottle of white wine and had a picnic in the shadows of the Eiffel Tower. Last time I visited I did the same and I think I will every time I return. There's no better way to people-watch and see the Parisians at their best. Somehow they all hang out with their friends or do their own thing but in a really unselfconscious and nonexclusive way where I felt like I could have gone up and talked to anyone. Also it truly is the city of romance and it seemed like everyone was there with their significant other. I had my wine and cheese and dreams of gyros later so I was mostly content but it was kind of sad because when I visited last summer I was with Julia and being on my own felt kind of empty. I miss my travel buddy....
Sunday was much the same although I mostly explored more places I'd never been before. After a breakfast of crepes I went to the Pompidou Museum of modern art, as my dad suggested, and hung out there for a while. I'm glad I went even though modern art ends up disturbing me pretty much most of the time. I really liked the photography and video parts of it though. One room was entirely lit with a deep pink glow with flapping curtains on either side flanking a giant red boot. I think I like the minimalist stuff like that the most. After that I walked around the neighborhood for a while and made my way over to the Parc Monceau, as my aunt suggested, close to l'Arc de Triomph. She described it as a quintessential Parisian park and she was absolutely right. I couldn't believe how many people were out and about and I feel like that's something you'll rarely find in the US. The grassy areas were packed with people sunbathing and playing soccer and having picnics. As I said before, somehow everyone seems to do their own thing but in a sort of inviting way were you feel like you'd be welcomed in any group. Even walking around by myself I didn't feel alone. After that I walked down the Champs Elysees one last time before heading back to my hotel to pick up my backpack and have a final croque monsieur.
This time I got to the train station with enough time to enjoy the duty free shops and restaurants and rest for a little bit before boarding. The ride back was sort of relaxing because I'd been doing stuff the entire weekend and it was weird because I felt like I was coming home when I stepped off the train in London. It was even a relief to hear the English accent after struggling to not look like an American fool in France the entire weekend! However, even though being in Paris is never easy, I have the time of my life when I'm there. There are many cities I'd like to live- Chicago, New York, Rome, and now London to name a few- but Paris more than any, even if it's only for a year or two. My goal is to be there within ten years. I guess I'd better start taking French again.
I wrote last time about how I was talking to Romain about the French attitude towards everyone in general. I know I was there on a weekend and mostly hanging out in the most social areas but I talked to more random people this weekend than I have during my entire time in London. I think the key is to try to blend in and make as much of an effort as you can to be a part of their culture and they'll happily accept you. There were a few people who definitely were not pleased to repeat themselves when I asked them to speak “doucement” but the fact that I was even trying (and failing miserably) made most of them at least smile. Also maybe I looked a little French because at least five people asked me in French for directions or where to find the best bars or to borrow a pen or whatever. It felt pretty good those few times when I could actually respond to them in complete sentences without asking them to repeat themselves.
I had a blast and now I'm back to work but I'm not sad in the slightest because I know I have much ahead of me. I still have tons of places to explore in London, forget about the rest of the UK. I'll put up some of my pictures from Paris tomorrow (only a few of the 150) and I promise I'll put up pictures of my flat one of these days!
