Parigi-the long awaited

Exactly a month has gone by since four girls set out for a long night in the airport. After a carefully worded debate with my roommate, I convinced her a night spent in the Rome airport was going to be a much more restful night than the night we spent in Termini sleeping on pee-soaked concrete floors.  By the time we reached the airport most of the clean tile floor was already occupied with the sleek lumps of sleeping bag-covered bodies. 

 Curling up in front of a humming Coca Cola machine I punched my backpack into submission beneath my head. Three hours later I was still awake and my toes had begun to tingle from the cold. Another two hour wait and we made our way into the terminal to wait for airport security to open.

I saw my first sunrise in Paris—the city of love—from the blurry window of our two hour bus ride. First stop was breakfast. And what better than freshly made crepes!

A short walk later and we were at our first main attraction: The Arc of Triumph. In the center of a huge roundabout, it took us a moment to figure out how to cross the busy road. Fifty feet from where we stood admiring the beautiful architecture there was what appeared to be a subway entrance, but in fact it was not, An underground tunnel lead us up to the beautiful monument in all of its glory.

 These are converse shoes--very creative

 Boat race anyone?

Walking down the main shopping strip I was greeted by several familiar faces: Gucci, Sephora, Starbucks, Cartier, etc. Street performers stopped my window shopping on several corners. A large crowd pulsed around a group of young men flipping in the air and spinning on their heads. I was just walking away when Michael Jackson’s Thriller came on their boombox, pulling me back to watch their performance.

The shops dropped away as we made our way closer and closer to the Louvre. Several different waterworks allowed us to pause in the horrible heat and enjoy the waters mist. Then, there it was. In all of its sunkissed glory: the Louvre. Of course my first thought upon seeing the spectacular glass pyramid was Tom Hanks. That may seem weird, but for those of you who have seen The DaVinci Code, you understand. Surprisingly the line did not take long and then we were inside the incredibly humid museum—the glass acts as a large magnifying glass and we humans as small ants being sizzled alive by the sunbeams. Photography was allowed inside the museum, but only with no flash, so some of the photos are a bit blurry. 

It is said that the majority of people who go to the Louvre solely go to see the Mona Lisa. I hate to admit it, but I am one of those people. As soon as we were inside, I found a map, charted my course and set out. The room was swarming with people, mostly Asians with large hats and even larger cameras. I was pushed and pulled, jostled and stepped on, until I was in front of the Leonardo’s bella. I had been warned that she would be smaller than I would expect, and yet I was still surprised. Someone so great as DaVinci, and someone so famous as Mona Lisa, I would have expected a painting at least the size of The Virgin and Child with St. Anne and St. John the Baptist, which I saw in the National Gallery when I was in London. However, great majesty comes in her small size: such mystery could be seen behind those faithful eyes that follow you about the room.

Artists and art where everywhere!

After a long, sweaty day that had begun the day before, we were all ready to curl up in our beds and fall into a blissful rest. Our host, Dafol, had other plans for the evening. After stopping to pick up two bottles of wine, we headed to the canal for a late-night picnic. The underground was packed with girls dressed in short skirts and too much makeup and tall men with cigarettes stuck behind their ears. There wasn’t enough space to hold on to one of the grips, so we held on to one another, swaying with the lurches and stops of the train.

When we got to the canal I was amazed at how many people were lined up along the water edge. Groups of friends drinking wine, singing along to a guitar, or playing bocci ball were laughing and calling to one another all around me. Sitting with Dafol and her friend Emmauelle, I embraced Paris culture. The food was fantastic. All of it was finger food and Dafol had made these amazing crackers with more spices and herbs than I can name. The bocci ball games continued on behind us until they had to squint to see the small plastic ball they were aiming for. My own eyes began to ache, not only from exhaustion, but from straining along with the players to see whose ball came closest. A little past midnight we made our way back to the apartment more than ready to collapse.

We began the next morning very early. After a quick stop in a bakery, we made our way to stand in line to climb the Eiffel Tower. For almost an hour, we waited in line being hounded by the men walking up and down the line with miniature Tower keychains and silk scarves. Soon we realized we were standing in the wrong line. We were standing in the line for families with reservations, obviously we were not a family and we did not have reservations. We moved to the next line over, a much longer line and waited for another hour and a half.

Climbing the Eiffel Tower was like being on a thigh master for three hours; my legs burned. It did not take three hours to climb the Tower, but I felt I could have stayed on top of that tower looking at the beautiful city below freshly painted by the morning light. 

Notre Dame was breathtaking. No hunchback was in sight, but I did spot many gargoyles adorning the outside of the cathedral. Inside the cathedral I was surprised upon finding Mother Teresa’s tomb. Apparently though while I was standing in awe of Teresa I missed what was right next to her: Joan of Arc’s tomb. How I missed it I have no idea, but when we exited the cathedral I wanted to go back in for another round but we had more sights to see.

Musee d’Orsay was our next stop. Unfortunately photography was not allowed in this museum, which was a shame because some of my favorite artists were featured: Monet, Degas, Manet, Renoir, etc.

However, as everyone does, I did sneak some photos in, shame on me.

After dinner at an American restaurant, not our choice, we climbed to a viewpoint where we could see the entire city stretched forth below us. The view was spectacular!!! The Eiffel Tower was so beautiful lit up.

After enjoying the view we began a hunt for our last Paris chocolate crepes. As we began walking back down the hill, most of the creperies were already closed. We found one still open with a character behind the counter. He poured the batter onto the hotplate in front of him like a magician waving his wand. Within moments he flipped the thing pancake onto the other side spreading a thick layer of chocolate onto the hot, golden surface. With his other hand he expertly cut a banana into slices placing them into the warming chocolate. It was the best crepe I have ever, and possibly will ever, have. 

 The real Moulin Rouge!

Our time in Paris was over. The next morning we had to wake up earlier than necessary to reach the airport in time. On our last ever RyanAir flight we all fell asleep before lift off.