lagilman | Paris 2007 -- part 1/5 (Reply)

Monday:

Not much to say, except that getting to the airport was a bit of an adventure, since the storms Sunday had left at least one track underwater, making all the trains run between 90-120 minutes late. Thankfully, being wise to the ways of Amtrak, I had arranged to take a train that would get me in more than an hour earlier than needed. I ended up having just enough time to get through without raising a sweat. The flight left almost on time. I watched “Night at the Museum,” drank a litre bottle of water, and got about three hours of sleep, which left me feeling mostly-human. We landed at 7am, to warm weather and bright sunshine. Dude, where are my sunglasses?

Tuesday:

I had been concerned about my ability to navigate from CDG to my hotel, with my ten words of French and a jet-lagged (or at least travel-weary) brain. Silly me. Apparently I can work any ticket machine in the world, since I ended up helping two other people (including one out-of-towner Frenchman) before buying my own ticket for the RER (the fast commuter train). Also, “Je ne comprends pas” does actually roll off my tongue under stress. I had worried about that.

Yes, I could have taken a hired car, but why? The trip was actually really easy – I find the entire Paris Metro to be intuitive and easy to navigate; I suspect after NYC’s subways, anything [except Germany!] is a breeze. Anyway, I found my hotel without trouble, dropped my luggage, and went wandering. No map, no plan, no clue. Already I was more relaxed than I’d been in weeks.

This was where I discovered that I should not be allowed in Paris in the Spring without a keeper. Of my credit card, that is. The Marais (the neighborhood I was staying in) is a warren of clothing boutiques, and I had forgotten what a clothesho(rse) I am at heart. Thankfully, most of the stores were closed, and I couldn’t do any damage.

Eventually, I ended up crossing the Seine and walking through the flower market

toward Notre Dame, purely by happenstance (Ile de la Cite was about a mile walk from my hotel, I later determined). At some point I thought about calling my sister to let her know I’d landed, but decide that today’s to be my day, alone. Although it amuses me to think that it’s a small city, we might run into each other.

You know what’s coming next, don’t you?

Swear ta god, walking alongside ND, and I hear someone calling my name.

“Small city,” I say.

So I ended up climbing ND with them, getting close and personal with the gargoyles, including one Evan and I decided was afraid of heights (alas, that photo doesn't want to load here).

A quick hit to the architectural catacombs underneath (beware digging for a new garage – you never know when you’re going to find Roman-era construction), and then off to lunch. Café Omar – lamb and couscous, and a carafe of rose. Maybe not a classic first meal in Paris, but satisfying as hell.

Then we went to the musee of invention, were my nephews and brother-in-law geeked out. Okay, maybe I did a bit too. They had old typesetting machines! And a Cray computer! And, dear god, a Commodore 64. Eeep. And stained glass. Everything in Paris, you start to think, has stained glass.

We parted ways soon after, me to go check in finally, and wander some more. I ended up in a café next to a park for a glass of red and some people-watching. The last time I was in Paris, I felt a weird and unexpected sense of connection – not so much coming home, the way I do in Siena, but familiarity. I think that Paris is the sister-city to Manhattan, because a sort of contentment comes over me when I’m there that I only ever feel in New York. I don’t think I could ever be a Parisian the way I am a New Yorker, but it might be fun to play at it for a few years.

I’d need to pick up some more vocabulary first, tho.

Next up: if this is Wednesday, there must be shiny things....