A new outlook on Paris

The last time I went to Paris, I took no leisurely strolls, but instead thrift-shopped my site seeing so I could go to Disneyland with some friends. I’ve always been skeptical about visiting Paris. My thoughts were that it’s expensive, flashy, and way too elegant for my hobbit-like lifestyle. But this time, after bouncing from Notre Dame to the Eiffel Tower to Gare du Nord, I can confidently conclude that Paris is worth a few days. After all, the streets wouldn’t be teeming with tourists if it wasn’t. And while I’d love to scale the four-legged steel spire, I would much rather spend a few days walking up and down the Seine, wandering through the side streets admiring the architecture, and finding a cheap outdoor café in the left bank where I can camp out with my netbook writing the book I’ve been meaning to write for the last several years. Hmm, that really is a certain hobbit’s lifestyle.

I entered Charles de Gaulle after the squishy plane ride. I was hungry, and it was way past my bed time back home, though dawn had just arrived in Western Europe. Still, it’s not everyday that I’m in Paris, so no thought crossed my mind of catching an early train to Brussels for an early check-in and nap… and was heeded.

The first thing I wanted to do was call my parents to let them know I made it there safely. But alas! I had no service. I thought to myself in a high pitched whiny voice, “B-b-b-b-ut… I have an iPhone!” Eventually I did get connected to SFR, and felt aligned with the universe now that I could call my parents, unlike the last time I went to Europe. Mom and Dad – you know what I mean!

I took the RER from CDG directly to Notre Dame, and walked directly from the station to Café Panis. I’d never heard of the place before, it was simply the first restaurant I saw after emerging from the bowels of the Paris Metro system. Mildly distracted by the gothic majesty of Notre Dame and her flying buttresses, I snapped and walked across the Seine for lunch. My croque monsieur, I must be honest, may have been authentic, but didn’t equal the one I made back in Seattle. My version was perhaps more like an Americanized steroidal sandwich, whereas the one I got from Panis was much more petite. Probably healthier too.

After a stroll in the park (with all my luggage in tow, by the way), I hopped a train to the Eiffel Tower. All along the park were illegal vendors selling tiny replicas and other doodads. What made it interesting was the arrival of the police and the subsequent scurrying of all the vendors. All sale items lay on a square sheet with strings tied to each corner. Once the blue lights flash, the strings are picked up, along with the merchandise, and it’s off to the races. Dozens of street sellers scattered as far as they could from authorities. I found it so fascinating, I couldn’t resist taking video.

Instead of taking a couple underground trains to Gare du Nord, I figured I had enough time to sit in traffic on a bus, and sure enough, as if God delivered it right to me, the 42 rounded the corner in front of me and stopped. Taking this bus helped me get more samples of scenic Paris. Cobblestone streets, ornate balconies, and of course all the glitz and glam of Opera.

I now sit on the THALYS train to Brussels, my body begging for a shower and a nap. This train is moving like a bullet. Every time I speed from city to distant city on high speed rail, I lament the Amtrak turtle we have back in the states. I’ve decided to treat myself to a cab ride to my hotel instead of taking the train. But knowing my cheapskate self, I’ll probably opt to work up a little sweat and wander around with two large bags to save myself a handful of Euros.