I have heard a number of different perspectives regarding Paris France. Some say it's overrated with too many people crowding the streets, peddlers trying to pawn off cheap replicas of monuments, and filled with overpriced restaurants and coffee shops. I have come to learn that’s just the superficial touristy version of a city that has much more to offer if you're lucky enough to see it through the eyes of a true Parisian. Yes, there were what seemed like millions of people rushing from one place to another, and an endless stream of tour buses dropping off gawkers at every street corner. The key is to try and see the big picture. These tourists are coming from all over the world. In the three days we spent traversing the city we could hear every language spoken from American and British English to Italian, Spanish, German, and a slew of Asian languages that I’m not even going to try and differentiate. Everyone is trying to capture the history and romanticism of such a magical city in their own way, and with my friend Yann and his girlfriend Marion, Kathryn and I got a taste of what it’s like to be a true Parisian for the weekend.
Getting through Friday was a bit of a challenge (and required more than a few cups of strong coffee), but before we knew it we were reclining in our first-class cabin seats on our way to Paris. The TGV got us there in exactly one hour, and Yann and Marion were waiting for us on the platform. After quick introductions, we boarded an inter-city train towards the suburbs to drop off our baggage. It was great to see my old friend again especially since my last trip in 2007 was mid-week, and he worked a majority of the time. The ride was quick, and highlighted by some drunk guy one car over yelling at the top of his lungs about nothing in particular.
Yann’s Mom was waiting up to greet us when we arrived. In true “Mom” fashion she had drinks and a little chocolate gateaux waiting for us (I was looking forward to the opportunity to talk with his parents because during my last trip my French was rather poor compared to now). We chatted for a bit while Yann changed from his work clothes, and then hopped in the car and drove to a little bar maybe 10 minutes from the house. We had a comfortable spot, but unfortunately ended up sitting just below the speakers that were blasting American dance hits from the late 1990’s/early 2000’s. We had a couple drinks while shouting back and forth across the table to each other in French. We left the bar just before closing time to get home and crash a bit “early” (~1:30am) so as to be prepared for the next day’s adventures.
Saturday we slept in until about 10am, and woke up to find Yann’s parents had gone to a patisserie, and gotten us a breakfast spread of croissants, pain-au-chocolates and some kind of brioche baked with chocolate chips. That plus a couple soup-bowl sized cups of coffee got the day started off right, but we were urged not to overindulge because we would be eating lunch about two hours later. Yann’s Mom cooked us up the best meal we have had in France so far, for our dejeuner. We started off with salad and creamy fois-gras spread over fresh baked bread which was picked up from the bakery just before the meal started. That was followed by a perfectly cooked tender roast beef in a sautéed mushroom sauce, accompanied by potatoes aux gratin, and of course a bottle of red wine. I had to stop myself after my second helping knowing that we had a long day of walking and sightseeing ahead of us, and I needed to be able to move after the meal (that ability came under serious jeopardy even without a third piece of meat). After the main course they brought out a dish with four or five different specialty cheeses on it and another loaf of bread. Finally to cap it all off was the chocolate gateaux covered with homemade crème-anglais. This was all to make sure we had enough energy for the day, but in actuality I think by the time we finished everyone at the table was ready for a mid-afternoon nap.
Having only the weekend for our trip there was no time to rest, and soon after we finished lunch we hurried over to the train station to catch the metro into the city. First up on our to-do list was visiting the Eiffel Tower, and the metro dropped us off about a block away. It was a great place to start our tour, but apparently that was the plan of every other traveler visiting Paris because there must have been ten thousand people waiting in the lines to go up to the top. Luckily both Kathryn and I have already visited the top of the tower so we took the opportunity to stroll around the park surrounding it, and get a couple of good pictures. The only downside to this stop (other than the enormous crowd) was that for five minutes or so there was the strongest odor of spoiled sardines wafting through the park as we were walking. That didn’t limit our stay, and when we had enough of the Tower we headed towards the Champs-Elysée.
The next hour or so was spent snapping pictures of the Arc-de-Triomphe, and weaving our way between the crowds down la plus belle avenue du monde. Our destination was the apartment of Marion who by amazing chance was able to secure a place not 100meters off the Champs-Elysée. It was just a single room studio apartment, but she had a small kitchen and a bathroom, the rent was reasonable and the location was unbeatable. We hung out there for a short while before venturing back out onto the street to see the lights of the Christmas market glowing in the fast approaching darkness of the night. Along our walk we met up with one of Yann’s friends whom I met on my last visit. The five of us walked through the market together before he had to catch a metro train to meet his girlfriend.
By this time we had about made it to the end of the Champs-Elysée so we turned off the main road and Yann and Marion took us on an impromptu tour of the luxurious district that surrounded us. I’m not sure of the name of the area, but around every corner there were Bentley’s, Maybach’s and displays of the most lavish diamond and precious stone jewelry I have ever seen. We also walked past the illuminated Opera house and finished our walk at the Galleries Lafayette where the entire building was lit up with color-changing lights.
Next we took the metro back to Marion’s apartment. This was easier said than done because there were so many people cramming onto the subway cars. We almost missed our stop since the exit was blocked by an almost immoveable wall of passengers. Once we arrived, Marion prepared some fantastic aperitif’s to subdue our appetites, and we opened a few bottles of wine to pass the time before meeting up with friends at le Bar n’importe de quoi. This was the French imitation of a dive bar, but in actuality it was a pretty nice place. By chance we got a couple tables together just after we arrived, and throughout the night a number of Yann and Marion’s friends showed up. The music wasn’t too loud either and this was a great forum for us to practice more of our French. There was a dance floor in the basement, but we mainly kept to the upstairs bar area. The bartenders were friendly and enjoyed showing off their skills by juggling bottles and other tricks of the sort. It was a really great night, but when it came time to leave we ran into a bit of a problem.
Paris has the pickiest taxi drivers I think I’ve ever encountered. Honestly they could use a few more driving around in the first place because at least 90% of them already had passengers. The real problem came when we finally got a few to pull over. Yann’s house is maybe 15-20min outside of the center of Paris, and for the cabbies that was unacceptable. The first four or five taxi’s we talked to just sped away when they heard where we needed to go. Our next idea was to find a good looking corner and call for a taxi to come pick us up, but that was impossible because each time we tried all we got was a message that all the taxi’s in the area were occupied. Finally around 3:45am we finally convinced a very talkative Haitian cabbie to give us a lift back. This guy had an opinion on just about everything, but partly because of the hour and partly because he didn’t pronounce any of his “R’s,” we had quite a difficult time understanding him for the first 10min or so before we picked up on his accent.
Again we crashed hard as soon as our heads hit the pillow, and unfortunately I was not able to drag myself out of bed at 8am to go watch Yann’s soccer match (I would feel worse, but when he was staying with us in Chicago he was never able to get up for one of my football practices at 6am either so I think we’re even). We slept until about noon, and Yann’s Mom was worried for me because I missed breakfast so she made up for it at lunchtime. She cooked us another massive lunch starting with salad and a quiche aux poireaux, followed by spaghetti with a homemade creamy Carbonara sauce, then the cheese plate and desert of chocolate gateaux and crème-anglais, washed down with another bottle of red wine. Everything was expectantly delicious, and when we had finished she packed us a little meal for the train home with the leftover quiche, and some specialty butter biscuits from Bretagne.
Next we packed up our things, said goodbye and thanked Yann’s parents for all the amazing things they did for us, and went with Yann to the train stop. He was going over to Marion’s to nap since he only got four hours of sleep the night before. We took the train to Gare de Nord together, and said our goodbyes, then parted ways. We had about two hours to kill before our train back to Lille left so we found a nice little café outside the station, ordered some drinks, and relaxed while watching the people passing by.
It was such an amazing petites vacances we are already beginning to plan our return trip (I left my sunglasses there so we’ll have an excuse). After the weekend of late nights, large meals and constant conversation in French we were exhausted in the best of ways. Even with the crowds of what seemed like a million people strewn all along the Champs-Elysée we never felt like tourists, just Parisians navigating through the sea of foreigners. One last observation that was very apparent to both Kathryn and I was our ability to understand everyone we spoke with in Paris. Compared to the northern accents of Lille the French spoken in Paris is clean, crisp and comprehendible. We were able to determine our language skills are much better than previously thought; it just depends on who we are speaking with.
Just two more weeks of classes back in Lille, then a quick couple hours in London before catching our plane home to Chicago for the holidays.
A bientôt,
Jordan and Kathryn
This evening we had the opportunity to experience something that I have never before seen in my lifetime (with the exception of plastic light-up dolls in front of churches). Of course I'm talking about a live action nativity play documenting (from what I could discern) how scantily clad Roman soldiers were unable to stop a procession of Carnies from setting off fireworks after the birth of Jesus.
We showed up just as the performance was starting so we were unable to get a seat in the bleachers, and were forced to stand in a crowd just in front of the actors. It was a very well put together event that included a lazer light show, Roman soldiers on horseback and in horsedrawn chariots, Mongolian camels, fireworks and an elephant. The whole show was about an hour long which was good because had it been any longer I think the soldiers and dancers would have gotten frostbite. They were obviously unprepared for the cold and snow because the Romans were wearing skirts and shortsleeves, and the dancers were wearing even less. Even being bundled up in two sweatshirts, two hoods, a winter hat and down coat, two pairs of pants, wool socks, gloves and a scarf, Im not sure Kathryn would have lasted much longer either.
