Paris in October

In 2004 I decided to travel to Paris for the first time. It started as a group trip and ended with me traveling on my own. Strangely I was not nervous about traveling by myself - it was actual liberating. I kept a notebook and captured my thoughts each day. This is shared below.

Paris will always live in my heart and be a part of me. I felt at home and I will always love Paris. I hope my words and pictures inspire you.

Enjoy!

- Gail “Gigi” Austin

October 2004

There is the fantasy and the reality, and there’s some place in-between; a place you arrive at when you live in the moment and attempt to adapt to the customs of the city. I was afraid I’d over planned and that my expectations were too high. I’m happy to say my trip was wonderful.

My goal was to enjoy the city and not be a typical American tourist. I studied the women, and purchased a fall scarf making sure I tied it like them. To complete the look, I carried a small umbrella and a classic raincoat, like magic I was a typical Parisian. I was asked for directions on more than one occasion during my trip. Of course the moment I spoke in my broken French the illusion evaporated, but it was good for my ego. Even with my lack of language skills, I was always treated with respect and patience.

J'aime Paris! I love Paris!

Arriving in Paris

When I first saw the French countryside from the plane, it surprised me. Small villages surrounded by large pockets of land, with what looked like unfinished roads to each village. I wanted to rent a car and discover the charm of each village. All things to tuck away for my next trip to France.

When I arrived at Charles de Gaulle, I made it through security fairly quickly since I opted for one piece of carry-on luggage. Even though the flight was 30 minutes late, my shuttle was still waiting for me.

Sitting behind the shuttle driver, my first impression of the city proper was graffiti. Another surprise. Why was such a modern form of rebellion here of all places? I tried to ignore the graffiti (so New York 1970s) and focused on the buildings. I saw Sacre-Coeur on the butte of Montmarte, billboards for a new movie starring Jean Réno, and compact cars that reminded me of the cars when I lived in Japan. As we entered the city, I caught my first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower. Wow – I was really here! As my driver entered the city, there were hardly any people walking the streets on a Sunday morning. Many shops were closed. The only groups of people I saw were the tourists packed into the tour buses.

The shuttle drive drove around the Arc de Triomphe, and finally drove down the Avenue de la Bourdonnais to the hotel.

An authentic Parisian hotel

Except for the plastic card to open the room door, I had this feeling of stepping back in time. The elevator was tiny, held about 3 adults (no luggage) comfortably. If you opted for the stairs, the curved staircase dipped in spots. My room was small, with a bed low to the floor, gold wallpaper with a scroll pattern. The closet was more a built out armoire. The bathroom was modern (my one must have) and the windows opened to a catwalk. The best part, I was only 2 ½ blocks from the Eiffel Tower and could see the magnificent top of the tower from my bathroom window. I took advantage of the view every morning and evening.

The hotel was in residential area near embassies, cafes and brassieres. Typical Parisian life moved along here. Folks going to and from work, stopping in markets in the evening and leaving with a couple of plastic bags – just enough to carry. I think I could take a lesson here. Yes there were tourist here, but not the crowds of the Latin Quarter. The metro entrance was around the corner, but I usually started my day by walking. On a typical day I walked about five or six miles. Did my feet hurt? Not until day three. By then not only my feet but also my hips were hurting. The best thing is my knees held up.

Most mornings I had breakfast in the hotel café. I enjoyed my coffee and croissants as I people watched. The guests ranged from English pilots, to French couples and a young mother with her two daughters and their grandmother. Their grandmother reminded me of the typical English nanny right down to her sturdy shoes – very prim and proper.

The City & Its People

Visiting Paris is the perfect opportunity to experience life at a different speed. The pace is slower. You’re expected to take your time at the café sipping your coffee, explore the streets and window shop. Walking the streets is the best way to appreciate the architecture; the detailed ironwork stone and wood cravings. Mini cars negotiate the narrow streets. You find unique cafes on each street corner. There are no strip malls or chain restaurants.

I took many pictures on my trip, but I really wanted to capture the people. I got the sense that taking a picture might be considered rude. So instead I’ll attempt to capture them with words.

Demonstrate good manners and you’ll win the French over. Politeness is the key. Say bonjour in the morning and bonsoir in the evening. Merci and Sil vous plait – thank you and please. Au Revoir when leaving a store or an establishment. I followed their lead. These are probably the only French words I say.

The metro offers great people viewing. There was the young couple in love. They looked to be college age. She was a petite brunette with large almond shaped eyes. He was tall and lanky with tousled hair. They were affectionate, but not overly so. They teased each other and I looked away when they kissed.

I saw a mother with her adult son. It was late afternoon and she looked tired after a long day of work. Her son was joking with her. He poked her in the side and she smiled, the tension gone for the moment. At that moment they looked more like brother and sister instead of mother and son.

There was the singer on the metro on the way to Montmarte, with her rolling karaoke machine. Singing a French pop song. She passed around a cup at the end of her song. Was she a struggling student, musician, or just someone trying to make a living?

In St. Germain des Pres I walked down a side street, and I glanced into the window of a beauty shop. A male stylist was having an animated conversation with a gentleman as he worked on a customer’s hair. Lucky for his customer he wasn’t cutting her hair as he waved his arms around.

There is a performance artist squatting in front of the D’Orsay wearing white from head to toe. Her eyes are closed and face painted white. She is positioned in the same spot each day.

The book and painting stall owners along the quai appear to be old friends sharing space. I wondered how they ended their day. Did they stop by the local café for a cognac after locking their stalls for the evening?

The person I enjoyed the most was the young garcon at the Champs de Mars Brasserie near the Eiffel Tower. We communicated in a combination of my broken French and his limited English. He’s recommendation for dinner and wine was perfect. And the lemon sorbet with vodka sauce was wonderful decadent treat on my birthday. When I told him it was my final night in Paris and that I wish I lived here. He said. “Move here” with such innocence. He’s never been to America. I told him he’d enjoy it. But America is very different from Paris and did not have the same charm. He’s response: “America is still a young country.” It was a touching way to describe our country.

When I took the Seine boat trip, a nanny with her young charge outfitted in a school uniform sat next to me. The young boy was sweet and listened to his nanny. He did not disrespect her and asked her permission to walk around the boat. I could tell he was inquisitive, but not an annoying child. At one point the nanny turned to me and asked me a question. Once again, I had to break the illusion and tell her that I was American. She was surprised when I told her.

Americans in Paris

Although I took the trip by myself, I met many Americans in Paris. When I waited in line at Saint Chapelle, I met a couple from Dallas. They were in France visiting their daughter who was completing her senior year of college there.

That same evening I met a couple from Wisconsin at the Champs de Mars Brasserie, Sylvia and Gary. They were visiting Paris for a few days, spending a day at Euro Disney (Sylvia has a large Disney collection) and then onto to Belgium to meet Gary’s Belgium cousins for the first time. Two days later I ran into them on the metro as they headed to Euro Disney.

When I went to Versailles, I met three ladies from New Jersey: Donna, Bunny and Joanne. They were staying in a rented apartment. Good plan for my next trip to the city. Two days later I ran into Donna on the Ile St-Louis in a small jewelry shop.

Here’s the kicker. After taking the guided tour of Versailles and walking through the gardens on our own, we were told to meet our tour guide at the front gate. While we waited, I started up a conversation with a couple from the bus. They were from Albany, New York, where my sister lived. They thought they might know her, so I shared her name. They didn’t know my sister. I told them they might know my niece as she performs at events around town. I told them Ciara’s name. Not only did they know Ciara, their daughter is a friend of Ciara’s and they knew my niece was attending Skidmore college. Talk about a small world. I wrote down their daughter’s name and shared this story with my sister when I returned home.

So I guess the story is in Paris there’s a small town feeling in a cosmopolitan city.

The Museums & Monuments

The Musee Rodin is an intimate, country estate in the city. The bulk of Rodin’s sculpture is here. You will find his pieces at the Louvre and the D’Orsay, but in the setting that was once his home, the grounds and the rooms serve up Rodin is all of his mastery. I’ve loved Rodin for years, so to see “The Thinker”, “The Kiss”, and “The Gates of Hell” set the tone for the rest of the trip. This was my first stop after checking into my hotel. So many more great things to come. . .

Beyond my love for Rodin, I recently discovered the story of Rodin’s student Camille Claudel. Rodin reserved a room in his museum to showcase her work, even though they were no longer speaking prior to his death. After seeing pictures of her work, the photos did not do her sculpture justice. Her skill evokes many levels of emotion. To think her talent was locked away. In her early forties she was institutionalized and she never sculpted again. She died in her eighties.

So much has been written, captured on film about the Eiffel Tower. What struck me was the intricacy of the structure’s ironwork. I first saw it in the late afternoon. It was a nice day, so the Champs de Mars was crowded with families and folks walking their dogs. When I made it to the line to take the elevator to the top, the line was extremely long. I decided to come back later and go to up at night. As I walked away, I was surprised to see the armed military guards with their guns drawn. This sight quickly pulled me back to reality. I’m in a foreign country and security here is very different.

When I returned to the Eiffel Tower later that evening, I managed my fear of heights and took the elevator to the top. I only had one moment of anxiety when I was in the elevator to the 3rd level and I looked up to see how far we had to go. Seeing the lights of the city from one thousand feet high was well worth the trip.

I read a lot in preparation for my trip and had some preconceived ideas about what sights I would like the most. I was surprised to find which sights truly moved me.

As I walked the Ile de St-Louis the bells of Notre Dame rang the hour. I felt right at home here. It was home to Marie Curie, as well as Camille Claudel. Along with shops and cafes, I walked past a school and could hear the children inside. The feeling here is like taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling. Take smaller steps, look in every window, and hang out in a café. I had the best hot chocolate in a café here.

I was surprised to find that Norte Dame was one of my favorite places in Paris. On both of my visits to Norte-Dame, I saw a movie being filmed. The first time a small crew was filming an 18th century period piece with two couples strolling on the west side of the church. The second time there were about 20 extras filming a present day scene with 3 actors. Hey I live in California and I have yet to walk down the street and see them filming anything.

Once inside the church, I was touched by the presence of years of worship. The stain glass windows are jewels. And what I really wanted to do was light a candle and kneel in prayer.

I’m not sure what type of stone was used to construct Sainte Chapelle, but the building is deteriorating unlike the other places I visited. I’m not sure how much can be repaired. I took a narrow spiral staircase to the top chapel and was astonished to see the stain glass windows in such good shape.

Another surprise, I loved the Louvre. After my first visit, I rearranged my schedule so I could spend more time there. When they say you’ll need at least a week to see the entire Louvre they aren’t kidding. As I walked the corridors, it was hard to get my head around the idea that people lived in the Louvre at one time. It reminded me of the Getty – the marble, the ability to be so close to the art. Every piece of sculpture was breathtaking. Lucky I’m tall, because it was still difficult getting a clear view of the Mona Lisa. Even though I’ve seen numerous pictures of her, her beauty moved me. She is amazing. Napoleon’s apartments are decadent and Vermeer’s “Lacemaker” is as intricate as its name.

In addition to the main wings of the Louvre, I viewed all three floors of the Museum of Textiles. The best part was the couture jewelry. Love Lalique!

Because of my love for Monet and the Impressionists, I thought I would love the D’Orsay. I thought the converted train station was interesting, but I felt like one visit was all I needed. That said the D’Orsay holds two of my favorite pieces. It was in the D’Orsay that I cried for the first time. When I made it to the top level of the D’Orsay, I was floored by the Degas’ sculpture of the 14-year-old ballet dancer. I had no idea the cloth on her skirt or the bow in her hair was real material. There is a rip, ever so slight on her skirt. That simple tear made me well up and I had to walk away.

The lighting on the top floor showed Van Gogh to perfection. You could truly appreciate his mastery and brush strokes. The Monet’s were lovely here, but it was the first time I truly loved the Van Gogh’s.

On day four, I was determined to locate the famous steps in Montmarte and take them to the butte to see Sacre-Coeur. Let me say this, I can walk for miles. I mean literally miles without breaking a sweat, but give me a few flight of stairs and I’m huffing and puffing like a person who needs an oxygen machine. Anyway, I located those famous steps and climbed 120 steps to the base of Sacre-Coeur. Didn’t you know, I had to climb a few more steps to enter the church. Let’s just say taking the steps back down was much easier.

While in Montmarte, I wanted to visit the Musee de Romantique but the closest metro was in a shady part of town. I walked a few blocks, and felt very uncomfortable and decided to skip it.

On my final day, I window-shopped on the Rue Saint Honore. Ah to have oodles of money to mindlessly shop. I’ve never had the desire to do that for clothes, only for books, furniture and perfume. But I must admit there was a cute pair of pink boots I really wanted, and a Hermes bag was calling my name.

On the Rue de Rivioli I had hot chocolate at Angelina’s. It was like drinking a melted chocolate bar and fresh whip cream. You definitely cannot think about any kind of diet plan in this city. I walked through the Latin Quarter around noon. It was crazy – lots of young people. It was totally different atmosphere from the Invalides Eiffel Tower Quarter where I was staying.