The City of Love in 36 Hours

So Kristine and I had gotten to the last month of her time here without making it to Paris. It was one of those trips that you kind of put off, because it’s easy to get there and you keep going ‘oh, I’ll get there.’ We never did, and we suddenly realized that. We booked our trip for the last weekend in November. The day we were scheduled to leave, there was a massive storm all across the UK, involving heavy winds and tidal waves that led to flooding in some coastal areas. This becomes important later. We headed over to the National Express bus stop at one of the parks downtown and started our two hour bus ride to London. Once in London, we headed over to the departure terminals to get on our ten hour bus ride to Paris. This was supposed to be a smart idea, because we’d take the bus at night and get to sleep, and then we wouldn’t have to pay for a hostel another night. It was still pretty smart because it worked out okay, but there was a very, very loud French guy who screamed, no lie, for the entire bus ride. He had a lot to talk about, and for some reason preferred to do it at the top of his lungs. This particular problem was made worse by the fact that we got delayed getting on the ferry in Dover, for maybe like three hours (I’m not sure, because I was half asleep, or trying to be, at this point). There was a moment when Kristine and I both woke up to realize that water was slowly rising around the bus as we waited in line to get on the ferry, but we must not have been too concerned because the next thing I remember is waking up on the ferry. We finally got to Paris around 11am the next day, and we struck out for the Catacombs.

Finding the Catacombs was slightly difficult, because the map we had was not very accurate about where the entrance was. Thankfully, I was able to remember enough French to get some directions out of a nice older couple, and we eventually found it. This was really, really cool, seeing the underground of Paris and having multiple flashbacks to the gypsy scenes in The Hunchback of Notre Dame. There were, of course, a lot of dead people, so many that even contemplating how many dead people were there is probably a bad idea. I attempted to translate some of the signs down there, but hey, my French is rusty. There were also a decent amount of tourists down there, something I’m rapidly becoming hypocritically jugemental of.

Next, we decided to walk through the Luxembourg Gardens on our way to Notre Dame. Kristine and I were, thankfully, pretty good travel buddies because we both don’t mind abusing our feet to see more stuff (a fact we regretted very much by the end of the day, I have to say). The Gardens were gorgeous, even if we did just do a quick walk-through. There was this gorgeously huge fountain/pool thing in the middle of the plaza, with a bunch of people just kind of milling around and enjoying a sunny day. There were Greek-style statues everywhere, of people who I should probably know but don’t. It was the kind of place I could picture myself hanging out if, you know, I somehow ended up living in Paris, by some miracle.

When we finally made it to the island in the middle of the Seine (the map made the walk look shorter than it actually was), we headed over to Notre Dame. Now, this is a cathedral I’ve been dreaming about seeing since I don’t even know when, a cathedral that is generally known as one of the most impressive in the entire world. And let me tell you, it was pretty incredible. As amazingly iconic as the front of the Notre Dame is, I have to say I personally prefer the architecture of the sides and back of it. The front may be impressive, but the sides and back are much more intricate and interesting to explore. Not to mention much less familiar, which I have to say was a bit of an incentive to explore that particular area more. The inside was equally as predictable, what with all the churches I’ve been to lately, though no less beautiful. In fact, I loved the lighting of the inside, especially the impressive use of candlelight. Although, that could be my Disney bias talking, because I’ve always pictured it the way it’s animated while Esmerelda is singing “God Help the Outcasts.” I can’t deny, however, that the stained glass windows were as awe-inspiring as promised. The rose windows in both transepts were gorgeous and colorful, especially with the afternoon sun streaming through brightly. One of the coolest things inside Notre Dame, however, was a clear box at the end of the cathedral with colored paper and pens on top. We were supposed to write why we were there, or how we thought world peace could be achieved, or anything we wanted really. That was really awesome, being able to write something and stick it in there, with all the other colorful papers covered in the thoughts of the world.

The next place we went was the Saint-Chapelle, architecturally recognized to be as close to the epitome of continental gothic architecture as it is possible to be. It was certainly impressive, and had the biggest and most colorful stained glass windows I’ve ever seen. It was incredibly tall, although it wasn’t very big lengthwise, which was strange coming from England.  Here, most cathedrals and chapels are ridiculously long. For example, King’s College Chapel is at least twice the length of the Saint-Chapelle, but that doesn’t take away from the beauty of either building. It was certainly amazing to see. The only problem I have with this particular chapel is that it once held relics that were actually incredible, such as the Crown of Thorns and a vial of Christ’s blood. Whether those claims are true or not is irrelevant, now, because those relics were either destroyed or sold off or who knows what during the French Revolution(s). Come on people, bloody revolutions are no reason to destroy historical artifacts, seriously.

Anyway, after the Saint-Chapelle, we just kinda walked up and down the Seine, killing time until the Lourve would be free for us (after 6:30 for students on Fridays, oh yeah!). We tried crepes (the ones from the cart in Cambridge are better, sorry guys), searched for bookstores, saw a lot of interesting touristy-type shops. There were even these bookstore-type things along the river itself, in hutch-looking wooden things, there were a ton of them. Of course, it eventually got dark and we headed over to the Lourve. And I’ve now seen the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa, which I pretty much still can’t wrap my head around. I felt kinda bad being in one of the biggest and best art museums in the world and basically beelining for these two pieces, but at this point, Kristine and I were ready to collapse from exhaustion and our feet were loudly protesting the rough treatment of the day. So we headed off to our very last stop of the day–the Eiffel Tower.

The Tower was… okay, it was a pretty incredible moment for me, walking toward it, seeing it all lit up through the trees of the park. It reminded me of seeing Big Ben for the first time–it’s not something I’ll ever forget. Seeing such identifiable monuments like those, it makes reality hit home in a visually stunning way. I literally felt stunned, like I was smacked in the face by the reality of seeing the freaking Eiffel Tower right in front of my face. Going up it was another ‘smack in the face’ moment, despite the fact that I was freaking out more than I should have been due to tiredness and the unique structure of the building. I mean, it’s so open. I felt like I was gonna fall the whole time. But the view from the top was so worth it, even at night.

Getting to the hostel was a bit of a journey, involving the RATP (the subway) and an unexpected, very steep hill. On the bright side, we had a decent roommate and I, personally, slept like a rock. The next day, though, my feet were still incredibly unhappy with me, and stiff on top of that. Luckily, our hostel was right near the Sacre Coeur, another basilica I wanted to see. It was worth it, too, and in my opinion was even more gorgeous on the inside than Notre Dame was. We headed back down into the city, because we wanted to see the Eiffel Tower in daylight, too. So we wandered through the city down to the river, and even found a statue of George Washington! I’m not sure what he was doing in downtown Paris, but he was there nevertheless.

After seeing the Tower one last time, we hopped on the RATP and got to the bus station. There was some minor confusion at the bus station, because the board displaying departures was broken, but we finally got on the bus to head back to London. That was a bit of an adventure too, because we had to clear the back of the bus for a guy coming from Madrid who was really sick. Poor guy, ended up smelling pretty bad too, and all the bathrooms were closed at the customs station. Needless to say, Kristine and I were ecstatic to make it back to London. We got in about an hour earlier than we were supposed to (probably due to taking the chunnel rather than the ferry across the Channel, which was also cool), so we got the bus driver to let us on a bus two hours earlier than the one we’d booked. Thank god, because we did not want to sit at Victoria Bus Station for over two hours.

 

So anyway, that was our trip to Paris. It was a whirlwind, it was semi-painful, but it was actually amazing, and I’m so happy I got there.

With happiness, fond memories, and love,

Bryn