When it comes to travel, I’m an overplanner. I carry with me a binder (I am my mother’s daughter – she has organized binders for EVERYTHING – some day I’ll be as good as she is) filled with printouts of ticket reservations, hotel/hostel information and confirmations, maps from the train stations to said hotel/hostel, ideas for travel – thank you Rick Steeves- and other pieces of information that I might need while in travel. One of the things I’ve learned to base hotels on is how accurate or helpful the directions to their location are on the website. My Paris hotel gets a -10 out of 10. “Located steps from the Abbess Metro stop” Come on. Lucky for me I had a map printed out – and an address so I was not out of luck. However, I hadn’t put together that in the Montmartre district where I was staying, everything was on top of a hill. So I got off the metro, and though there was a large crowd at the elevator (which would be a sign that most people would be conscientious of) I headed up the stairway- luggage and all. 145 steps later, I was at the platform to buy tickets, and 34 steps later, I was out on the Abbess square. Huffing and puffing, I was not deflated – I was in Paris and this was the trip of a lifetime! I set out thanks to my internet map and wandered through the picturesque streets of the area. When I pictured Paris, this is what I saw. Small fruit vendors tucked inbetween bakery shops and clothing botiques. People populating cafés like it was their job, sipping various frappa dappa coffees and alcohol. Fashionable ladies carrying loaves of bread and fresh vegetables they just bought for dinner. **Sidenote – when I was initially learning French, either I was taught this or it was my impression – the French don’t have refrigerators, they buy goods daily from the markets and always use fresh ingredients. So this is what I expected and Monmartre did not disappoint. The hotel I was staying in, did disappoint however.
Granted, I was only paying 45 Euro a night – I don’t know the conversion, I’ll try and look it up, but it’s about $60. I had a single room and the bathroom was on the same floor – according to the internet… never trust the internet. I entered the small reception area of the hotel and waited patiently while the lady behind the desk helped someone on the computer. She was having a fun, light conversation with the girls on the computer, helping them do something, so I waited…. And waited. It wasn’t a big deal, I was in Paris- all they do is wait around and move slower than Americans right? Well, by this time, I realized that one of the two operators of the computer was this woman’s daughter. Ok, really? Then, once she attended to me, it took another 4 minutes, and 5 times asking for my name for her to find my reservation. I handed her the papers from my binder with the confirmation numbers and the dates listed – you’d think that would make her life easier, but she paged through a hand written journal of names and dates to find my name. Ok. No big deal. I’m here safe and sound and I will enjoy Paris. She handed me my keys after explaining that for the 4th night, I’d have to move rooms. I don’t know why, but whatever, it’s okay. She told me this three times – “three nights, bring your bags here and change. Change rooms. Bring your bags here, change” (that’s one time by the way). I get it. Her English was not as strong as others I’d meet, but French was her second (or maybe third) language already. She was of middle eastern descent and was speaking Arabic on the phone (while I was still waiting – in the middle of her “helping” me). At any rate, she explained the shower to me. Yes, it required explanation, because… there was only one for those who didn’t have a bathroom in their room. Ok, no problem. HOWEVER – the shower was on the ground floor, and my room was on the 5th floor (in Europe, that’s the sixth floor – they go ground, first, second, third etc.) Shower, ground floor, my room, 6th floor, check. Then came the killer. I needed to get a token for the shower in order for water to come out, and the token was 2 Euro… each time. Seriously? I had to pay to use the shower, that was 96 steps below my room – yes, that’s right 96 steps – and by the way, the shower was only “open” from 9am – 10pm. This just kept getting better. After I hauled my stuff up the 96 stairs to my room, I was sweating like a pig. But, whatever, I was here and going to enjoy Paris. (at this point, I took additional prozac pills so I wouldn’t freak out on this lady- just an FYI) So I settle in my room, I use the word room loosely. It was as if I was Quasimodo in the quarters that are hidden from everyone else. It was a crook in the corner of the top floor – with a spectacular view of an airshaft. There was a mattress with a significant dip in it where countless others unsuspecting tourists had slept before me. There was no television, weird laminate floor and a lock that needed jimmying to get to work right. Have I mentioned that it’s in the mid-90’s for temperature yet? Put it all together, mid 90’s + 6th floor + luggage + lack of Diet Coke + crazy unhelpful “hotel” owner = unhappy Carla. It didn’t matter. I was going to be okay, I was in Paris and I was going to enjoy it.
the lamp in my room, that incidentally didn't work.
How does one cheer up when in Paris? Go shopping of course! I set out on my first afternoon to explore the Montmartre area. Sacre Cour was there, among countless other shops and tourist traps. It was perfect. I wandered among the windy hilltop streets with “J’ai besouin d’un stylo” (I’d like a pen) circling through my head. I felt very unfashionable as I walked around in my dry-fit shirt and nike dry fit Capri pants. There were women donning nothing but linen everywhere. Who the hell travels in linen? Clearly not anyone as travel-saavy as I. There were flowery skirts and the apparently in fashion Greek gladior like sandals – who were these people? I went through the streets stopping at many souvenir shops. For those of you who know me well, gift shop is my middle name, but maybe I’m maturing (finally) or just realizing that it’s all crap, but nothing appealed to me. I kept going, in search of the perfect souvenir and decided later that I had four more days to secure the souvenir of a lifetime. I stopped at a grocery store, and wandered through the aisles at a pace that would rival a snail. I always like looking to see what products are offered that are not available in Hungary. I happened upon three treasures – nutmeg, tampax tampons with a cardboard applicator, and caffeine free Diet Coke. Heckuva deal! I grabbed a pasta salad and returned to my “hotel” to secure a token and take a shower. Did I mention that they wouldn’t give me tokens in advance? I had to stand there shower ready in order to purchase my token – so basically I had to clear it with the lady in charge when it was okay for me to take a shower. Ugh.
Sacre Coeur
Day two started out in very Staffa fashion. I had a major Iwo Jima situation. No, I wasn’t in the middle of a battle raising a flag – it’s a bit of an inside joke among my family, but I’ll let you in so the story makes sense. When I was about 10 years old, we did the American family vacation and drove our party barge (conversion van) to Washington D.C. That’s a subject for an entirely different blog, but one memory that sticks out most was our quest to visit the Iwo Jima statue. It’s an imposing statue near other sights in D.C. and we of course wanted to stop and take pictures. Being that it’s right in the middle of things, and we could see it from the roadway, it shouldn’t be hard to find right? WRONG. We drove around for hours (potentially exaggerated timeline) trying to find the exact road to take to park the barge and stop to see the monument. We kept going around in circles, and in my infinite 10 year old wisdom, I decided to get an attitude and become upset about the whole thing. From there on, anytime we searched for something and couldn’t quite get there, it was an “Iwo Jima.” My morning started with a trip to Notre Dame. It’s a huge church on an island. HUGE church. Island. Can you see the Iwo Jima connection? I wandered around the Ile de la Cité for a good 30 minutes tyring to locate the church. Now, admittedly, I was not as prepared for this trip in terms of research and familiarity with the city. I basically got off the metro at a stop I deemed near the church (on the same island- should be close right?) and then thought I’d be able to just see it. Wrong. There is another church steeple there that I mistakenly deemed Notre Dame, and I was thrown off. Eventually I found it and went inside to visit. It was a beautiful church, no question. I opted not to go up the stairs to the top, keeping the 8 Euro it would have cost me. Instead I decided to buy a “hop on hop off” bus ticket for two days.
Detail of the front entrance of Notre Dame
I happen to love these tours and feel that they give you an excellent overview of the city. So, I hopped on the first bus that came, and though it wasn’t the line I wanted, it was still interesting. There are four different lines throughout Paris that you can ride using this tieket, and of course I rode all four of them by the end of the second day. I happened to be on a bus with two very nice Canadian women and watched as three other families asked what part of the US they are from. When they replied they were Canadian, the others basically lost interest. I decided on this bus trip that I am going to learn more about Canada. When I taught Modern World Cultures, we did several weeks on each region of the world, but two days on Canada. When students legitimately asked me why we don’t invade and conquer Canada, I reply with a short, “why bother? What would we gain?” Other foreigners have asked me what Americans think about Canada and my response is always “we don’t.” I’ve been to Canada on other Staffa family adventures, but couldn’t name all the provinces, nor could I tell you where any of the major cities are located. I know that in Quebec they speak French, but that’s about all I’ve got. I couldn’t tell you who runs the country, though I couldn’t for Hungary either and I’ve lived there for 10 months, and I don’t know anything about their history other than fur trappers. I know they are more liberal than we are – which probably irks many Americans, but I envy it. So, that’s my pledge to our neighbors to the north. You may have given us Pamela Anderson, but I forgive you and vow to learn more about you.
The hop-on hop-off bus!!!
Back to the bus ride. It was nice to be in the sun with a breeze as it had rained for the last week and a half in Hungary. After the hour and a half bus ride (which was interrupted with several bus driver smoke breaks, and a “broken bus” which led to the driver entering a coffee shop while a “new” bus came and retrieved us) I decided to wander a bit. I walked the streets of the places we had just toured, and eventually it brought me to civilization, a Starbucks and Gap next door to each other. HOORAY! I picked up my Starbucks Paris cup, and reminisced about the sales at the Gap and home (left empty handed thank you very much) and headed to the Louvre. It’s open late on Wednesdays for a reduced price. Art isn’t really my thing, and I knew I wouldn’t be there for an all day thing, so I decided to hit up the cheap admission. I rested my feet in the fountains outside and admired? the pyramid and it’s contrast to the surrounding buildings. I eventually entered and did the highlights tour of the museum. The top thing I wanted to see was the Rosetta stone, Hammurabi’s code, and of course the Mona Lisa. I also followed the guide and saw the other “featured” works. I was there for a good 2 – 2.5 hours and decided to head home to pick up my token for the shower before it closed.
Civilization!!!
the Louvre
Day three brought me back to the bus lines, only after a shaky start. I got all the way to the ground floor and outside before I realized that I was wearing my shower flip flops, not the sandals I wanted to wear all day. I had to return all the way up to my room (96 stairs) to retrieve the correct shoes. I rode the bus line in the morning from the train station (I picked up a seat reservation for my trip to Luxembourg) and then met a different line. I rode the entire third line, and then got off to see the Rodin museum. The Canadians had mentioned that it was a great museum, and I was amazed at how much I enjoyed it. I can’t really wrap my head around these works of art. I can’t even build with legos let along carve something out of marble. I know that’s why they are world famous is a result of their talent, but Rodin took my breath away. There were works in the museum, models of larger pieces and many other sculptures, and there was also a garden that held many more works of his. I found myself drawn in by his subjects which were often romantic figures of humans, and I think it was the first time I was truly impressed with art and wanted to stop and look at each sculpture individually. I know, I was at the Louvre yesterday, but I much preferred this museum. I felt like the Louvre was a “you have to do it while you’re there” trip, but the Rodin museum was really THE highlight of Paris for me.
the gardens looking at the museum
gardens
garden again
looking at the garden from the house. There were sculptures on the other sides of the giant hedges and woven in the shorter shrubs
this was my favorite -be sure you look in the mirror at the back side of the sculpture too - You could spin it around to see all sides, but I liked looking through the reflection.
Beautiful
Close up - one of my favorites
Farther away
The Thinker in the garden.
I did more street wandering and headed back to Montmartre to find the Moulin Rouge. Again, I admit lack of preparation for visiting Paris, and I’ve never seen the movie Moulin Rouge, but I guess (this is a stupid admission) I didn’t really put together what kind of “theater” it was until I was in the actual area. I was surrounded by sex shops and live performance parlours in route to the Moulin Rouge. I took pictures and headed out of there – back to my area of town to wander more and make sure to get my shower token before it closed.
When I returned to the “hotel” I was reminded that I had to change rooms the next night. The owner (the husband of the other friendly face at the front desk) told me that I had to bring my bags down after 9am and they’d store them for me until I came back. What? 9 am? I’ll be long gone by then for the day. I told him I’d be out by 9 – he said they open at 9, I’d have to bring my bags after 9. (Did I mention that by closed, they meant back in the other rooms on the first floor? The reception area was in effect their living room as seen by their children watching television and using the (only) computer there. They also entertained visitors some evenings eating meals at the table in the “reception.” I suppose it makes sense, but that also meant that we could only use the computer when the reception was “open” and could retrieve shower tokens only when they were “open.” At any rate, we were trying to settle when I was going to bring my bags down, and he ended up showing me a place I could leave them, beind a piece of wood that held the garbage can. Sure, I’ll leave all my possessions, including a $2,000 computer behind this piece of wood where the garbage is. And, when you “open” you can bring them into the “reception” area. Great plan. Whatever…
Day four – Iwo Jima #2. I had mistaken the RER train line for a Metro train and was trying in vain to get to the Eiffel Tower. I backtracked after talking to some other Americans (or perhaps they were Canadian- I never asked…) who pointed me in the right direction. Her exact words were “get off here, and you’ll be able to see it.” That should have been my first clue. Yes, it was initially the tallest building in the world until the Chrysler building and then many others… but if you get out of the subway and are surrounded by buildings, you can’t see much let alone search the skyline for the Eiffel Tower. Initially heading in the wrong direction, I eventually recognized where I was from the bus tour the day before and found my way out of the towering buildings to find the gardens that led to the famous French landmark. I was going to boycott the outrageous price to travel to the top (13 Euro) but then I decided, when am I ever going to return to Paris, I might as well bite the bullet. I rode the elevator up to the second floor, and then changed to ride the one to the top. Again, being placed in a situation that emphasized my growing acceptance of my fear of heights, I stuck to the inside of the elevators. I read that this structure is so sound that it doesn’t sway more than 7 cm during high winds, but still, it’s pretty high up. I took some pictures and enjoyed the view, and returned to the second “floor.” I took more pictures and decided to take the 700+ stairs down. Now, many of you would consider that cheating since I did not walk up, but the way down is harder for me than up – and lets face it, I had traversed enough stairs in the metro stop and at my hotel. I struggle with going down stairs in high places, so it took a certain level of courage to get to the bottom on these seemingly open stairs.
this stranger did a good job taking my picture. I absolutely HATE these pics - but in front of things like the Eiffel Tower, they're a must just to prove you were there. Note the "comfortable traveling clothes" I have on, like every other trip.
on the way down
looking up from the second floor
Funny that Falcon Heights wasn't one of the destinations measured
Sucks to have your job!
Arc de Triumphe (is that how you spell it?)
the Seine
from the elevator going down
Thanks for the warning - but would a pickpocket pay 13 Euro to be at this level? Maybe, who knows.
There she is.
First attempt at stranger picture taking - what? The Eiffel Tower? Where? You can't see it... Thanks German guy.
After the tower, I walked the Champs Elysees and visited the Arc de Triomphe. Policemen were lining the streets with barriers and bleachers for what I assume to be the Tour de France finish. I’m not entirely sure, but I don’t know what other major event would require that much preparation and barricades. At any rate, the Champs Elysees was a pretty boulevard lined with magnificent buildings that were occupied with stores I couldn’t really afford. I like to watch people and look though.
Looking up the Champs Elysees
Louis Vuitton
Shamless. I swear I have hundreds of pictures, and I put all the ones with me on this blog... I don't think they look good - trust me.
Champs Elysees
I wandered all the way down and across the river to the Musee d’Orsay which houses some of the most famous impressionist art in the world. Several VanGough, Monet, Manet and other artists are housed there. It was originally a train station that fell out of use, and has been restored and turned into a great museum. Again, I found myself really taken in by the art, especially the impressionist artists. I remember being surrounded by prints of several of the paintings in Ms. Sweet, Mrs. Briel and Mrs. Anderson’s rooms in high school, and now I’m finally seeing them. Even though I don’t know shit about art, I felt more worldly and closer to being as smart as those three teachers I had now that I had really experienced art. Perhaps some day I’ll be in the same circle as them. I also bought my first real souvenir, a book about the art there. Who knew that my only souvenir would be about art? How mature I’m becoming J In the evening, I decided to wash my clothes at the Laundromat down the street and get a glass of wine at an outdoor café. It was a nice finish to the trip.
I forget whose painting this is, but it relates to the next picture too
Impressionist art is about the small dots creating a larger picture. This is a close up of the top of the green jug from the larger picture above. 
the Café
three paintings of a cathedral by Monet- they were done in different colors, loved these.
Whistler's mother. If I were to commemorate my mother looking like this, I think she'd kill me. However, maybe she'd end up in a prestigious Parisian museum some day too...
Degas
Van Gogh
Van Gogh
When I first moved to Europe, I had written off Paris as a place to visit because I felt it was easy to get to from the states, and would require it’s own trip. When I saw the summer flight prices ($60) I couldn’t resist and I guess I’m glad I went. I was overwhelmed by Paris, and you either need to do the warp speed three-four day tour like I did or spend two weeks there. I couldn’t ever afford to spend two weeks there, but I can check it off as a place I’ve visited. Next time, I’d rather travel around the other parts of France enjoying more reasonable prices on French food and drinks, and seeing the country side a bit. I wasn’t as impressed with Paris as I’d hoped I’d be, but there were probably a number of factors affecting that. I am looking forward to a (hopefully) slower paced and smaller Luxembourg.
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1 comment:
your TG teachers would be so impressed:)
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