Paris

I must say, after Brussels and each and every other charming little town we drove through in Belgium and Northern France, Paris wasn’t as exciting as it might have been had we begun our journey there. Can you believe I’m saying that? Paris, not the most romantic, beautiful, memorable city in the world? It was lovely, though—especially since we didn’t have to drive!

As I mentioned, we took the train from a suburb of Amiens. It was a great ride through the countryside and more little towns, with few stops in between. The lack of urban sprawl in Europe surprises me, but I found myself grateful for that. Maybe America is just so big our cities feel like we have more room to stretch.

We embarked from the train into the Paris Nord Station, where we were warned in French and English to beware the pickpockets! How many hundreds of years have there been pickpockets in Paris? The tradition carries on. Then we found our way to the Metro (same station) to take us to the center of the city. There is an information center easily located in the lower level of the train station, where plenty of other international travelers were asking questions too. Personnel there were very helpful (in a variety of languages, I noticed!) and we quickly found the train we needed. So with a schedule in hand for getting back, we set out for the heart of Paris.
We exited at the Eiffel Tower station, and literally walked right up to a lovely view. As my husband put it, it’s like an erector set model (he’s an engineer, what other kind of description would you expect?). It’s impressive because they wisely haven’t allowed other tall structures to be built around it, and so familiar from having seen it in many movies. All that made the view more stunning, and exciting to be there in person. But there were aggressive vendors hawking little metal renditions, and so we didn’t stay long, just snapped a few shots then made our way toward the Arc d’Triumph.

Along the way we noticed barriers set up here and there. Barriers similar to the ones in Brussels for the parade. I looked at Neil, joking that perhaps they’d planned a parade for us here, too.

But it wasn’t a parade. Rather it was a little bike race France hosts every year – the Tour d’France! The closer we came to what was to be the finish line along Champs d’Elise, the more people there were, amid vendors selling yellow bags and t-shirts, umbrellas and hats with Tour d’France written boldly in black. We spoke to one British couple who’d driven through the chunnel to Paris. They’d staked out a place in the shade since ten that morning. Considering the racers weren’t expected to arrive until sometime around 3, they were wise to have brought comfortable lawn chairs and books to read.

But since we only had one day in Paris, we didn’t want to spend it waiting for a race that would pass us by in thirty seconds. So we wandered the streets. They were actually hard to navigate since so many of them were blockaded because of the race.

We stopped at a street-side café in a posh neighborhood and paid 10 Euro for a beer and a Coke Light (what they call Diet Coke over there) – Sacre bleu!* That’s fifteen dollars! I guess you can’t be cheap in Paris, or it’ll take away some of the enjoyment.

More of Paris tomorrow!

*Actually I read that sacrebleu is a French term of astonishment that no French person would ever use, so I guess you can tell I’m an American who speaks no French whatsoever.