Paris by Night (Boat Tour)

That is the Paris I expected last time. That is the Paris I got when I went on a boat tour along the Seine River at dusk. Yes, sir. I’m starting to understand just why everyone is so enthralled with this city. Let me assure you, it is not because the Parisians are nice or friendly or welcoming or even decent people. Nope. Those Parisians are as cold as the ice they don’t serve in carbonated beverages.

I want to warn you in advance that there are a lot of politically, architecturally, aesthetically, historically, religiously, economically, artistically, and intellectually important buildings, bridges, monuments, landmarks, streets, tunnels, signs, parks, cafés, museums, old train stations, museums in old train stations, etc. along the Seine River. Below is only a taste of it. I don’t remember the names of all or even most of the buildings or bridges or whatnot, but they are pretty and important. So that should be good enough for you. If not, then you go to Paris, take a boat tour, and get of my back.

The tour starts at the feet of the Eiffel Tower. Heading east, we pass under the Pont Alexander III.

An engineering marvel of a bridge, it was built in the late 19th Century after the Franco-Russian Alliance (let’s all just pretend we know what that is and move on, shall we). The son of Tsar Alexander III went to Paris to lay the first brick and, I’d imagine, that was the most manual labor he did in his entire life.

Next up, the Musée d’Orsay.

The giant clocks on the outside (and one pretty cool one inside) hint at the buildings history as a train station. The French will turn anything into an art museum. This one happens to hold a lot of 19th Century French artwork including an entire wing of impressionists (Monet and company). (Sorry for the bad quality. I was inside for half of the tour.)

L’Institut de France.

This is where the Academie Française meets. More ceremonious than anything, the Academie Francaise is a group of forty “immortals” (mostly men) who sit in a room and preserve the purity of the French language by voting on new French words. It’s a party under that dome.

Fast forwarding a bit, we reach the eastern most point of our journey. Looking back west is a pretty romantic view of Notre Dame and the Ile de la Cité.

This is the romantic Paris I came looking for.

How about some apartments on the Ile St-Louis?

I wouldn’t mind living there one day.

A view along the river.

As pretty as a picture.

On the north side of the city, the Louvre.

One of the biggest museums in the world, we’ll visit it some other time. The actual building was a fortress turned castle turned office turned museum turned partial setting of The Da Vinci Code.

And look what’s coming up in the distance.

It's nicer lit up.

Pont Concorde.

This bridge was built with bricks from the Bastille (political prison destroyed by revolutionaries etc.), so its kind of a big deal.

And now we've come full circle. On the way back to the hotel, we saw some monuments at night, but none of my pictures came out. Some of the highlights: bridge/tunnel in which Princess Diana died, Les Champs-Élysées, Ritz Hotel (in which Princess Diana spent her last night and Coco Chanel had an apartment), Les Invalides (military hospital turned museum), and others.

Conclusion: Paris is pretty at night. Romantic, even. Boat tours are fun. This song is the best.

The Trouble with Traveling

Hi there. It’s me again.

I left you last on quite the cliffhanger, me leaving on a Euro-adventure and all. Two weeks of uninterrupted, cross-continental travel. That was the plan. I always have a plan. The plan always works out. Except, apparently, when there are volcanoes involved. In that case, forget about it.

So, just how much were my plans derailed (an ironic pun if I've ever seen one)? Let’s take a look at the game plan, shall we?

Saturday, April 10: Arrive in Paris; meet sister and mom at a hotel

Saturday, April 10 – Wednesday, April 14: Paris, France

Wednesday, April 14 – Friday, April 16: Strasbourg, France (arrive by train)

Friday, April 16 – Sunday, April 18: Bonn, Germany (arrive by train)

Sunday, April 18: See sister and mom off to the United States; fly to Zagreb, Croatia

Sunday, April 18 – Sunday, April 25: Croatia

Sunday, April 25: Fly from Zagreb, Croatia, to Paris, France; return to Angers by train

That, to me, sounds like a flawless plan. The tickets are bought. My bags are packed. Let’s do it. Go team!

Guess what the first thing to go wrong was. Just guess. Here’s a hint:

The Tuesday/Wednesday before my trip, SNCF (French train company) conductors and personnel called a twenty-four hour strike. Most main lines were running as scheduled, but many an intercity line was canceled. Them being French and loving strikes, the unions decided to extend the strike (it may still be going… no one can be sure). Me being a student and loving a good bargain, I bought an intercity train ticket to Paris.

Spring Break hasn’t even started and my train was canceled. Good. I should have known then to turn around and stay in Angers. Instead, I followed an SNCF official’s instruction and hopped on the next Paris-bound train. Everything was fine until we stopped in Le Mans, France. The only stop until Paris and wouldn’t you know I was in somebody’s seat. No matter. I’ll find another one. That would be great if the train wasn’t full. And it was. So I went to the corridor and stood next to the restrooms (with six other people). This arrangement was fine (not ideal, but fine) except for one thing. I’m pretty sure that every single person on the train needed to use the restroom that morning. I stress needed because why else would you use the facilities on a train. Just wait until we get to the station in less than forty-five minutes.

PSA: Facilities in moving conveyances (busses, trains, planes, etc.) are reserved for emergencies only. Unless said conveyance is in transit for more than two (2) hours without regular rest stops whose interval shall be no shorter than one and one-half (1.5) hours, these facilities shall remain as such.
~This message brought to you by common sense.

Our time in Paris, Strasbourg, and Bonn was special. Save for an occasional case of fatigue/jet lag, blister, vertigo/motion sickness, fatigue, hunger, thirst, travel stress, grossly high prices, and more fatigue, we had a great time. You’ll learn more about that later.

The only exception: trains. Whoever said the European rail system is a superior form of travel is dumber than Waldo, and he gets lost on every page. Boarding the train is a contact sport. The doors are only open for a limited amount of time, and they wait for nobody. There is pushing, shoving, and yelling – pulling hair is permitted but not encouraged. Once on, finding space for your luggage is harder than finding Waldo at the beach (behind the sun-burnt fat guy eating a hot dog near the kite-fliers). Good luck. After stowing your suitcase in one of the restrooms/washing closets, you head to your assigned seat to find somebody (not Waldo) already there. Then you have to explain why you are right and they are wrong, usually in a foreign language and often with charades. After arriving at your destination, reverse the above process (retrieve heavy luggage – now buried under piles of other heavy luggage – and push your way off the train before the whistle blows and the train continues on).

Also, I don’t care how fast these trains move, it still takes forever to get anywhere. In the U.S., we think that Europeans travel between countries like we do between states. That’s true! Only, think about how often you travel between states. You don’t. Case and point.

Finally, trains are not cheap. Read on for more details.

Refer back to the plan for Sunday, April 18. There was supposed to be one flight to the United States and one flight to Croatia. Neither took off due to a certain volcano in Iceland (perhaps you head of it). Instead, we were stranded in Bonn, Germany (hometown of Beethoven and capital of Germany once upon a time, don’t you know).

After a lot of deliberation, I went on to Croatia by train starting Monday afternoon. Here was my schedule:

3:30PM – Bonn, Germany to Mannheim, Germany (~2.5 hours)
6:30PM – Mannheim, Germany to Munich, Germany (~4 hours)
11:45PM – Munich, Germany to Zagreb, Croatia (~9 hours)
Total time in transit: ~17 hours

The train tickets cost about the same as the plane ticket and it took around six times as long. Conclusion: trains are severely overrated.

Also, the train from Munich to Zagreb was an overnight train (clearly). I reserved a bed. I got something that resembled a tiny shelf:

There were six of us plus luggage in this tiny compartment. Mine was the bottom bunk. That’s all I have to say about that.

Nevertheless, I eventually made it to Croatia and my family made it home (5 days later). From there, everything went according to plan. I guess I can’t complain that much, but come on, a canceled train and plane, and an 18 hour expedition to Croatia, let me complain just a little…

The past two weeks were unforgettable (especially because I have nearly 1200 pictures documenting them). There were tours and churches, castles and cathedrals, chocolate and bread, big cities and tiny towns (the smallest in the world), waterfalls and miracle Mary’s, food (so much food!) and more. Alas, that is another blog (or seven).

Two Weeks' Notice

I quit.

Going to school, that is.

For two weeks.

You know how everything is bigger and better in America/Texas? That is almost always true except one very important thing: vacation.

Spring Break in America: one week. Spring Break in France: two weeks.

Advantage France.

Fortunately for me that means two weeks of European travel and life changing experiences uninterrupted by pesky classes or actual work.

Unfortunately for you that means two weeks of no blogs from yours truly. Try and keep it together. It’s going to be okay.

I’ll be back.

I promise.

(Note: There is a really heated debate over the placement of the apostrophe in the title of this blog. You might consider reading up on that during the next two weeks.)

Paris

I hopped off the train at Montpernasse* with a map and my cam-er-a
Welcome to the land of love and lights (whoa) don’t have an a-gen-da
I check out the sky, looks like maybe a shower
Look to the right and I see the ugly tower
This is all so cliché, everybody’s speaking franglish

My tummy’s turning ‘cause I’m feeling kinda hungry
Need a baguette or a sandwich
And then I did a bunch of tourist things
And I walked around a lot (x3)

Then I put my hands up
I’m fin’ly in France
Seeing all that I can see
Arc de Triumph right here, Notre Dame right down there
Then I put my hands up
I’m fin’ly in France
It’s not quite how I thought it’d be
Yeah! In the city they call Paris (Pair-ee) (x2)

~To be read/sung to the tune of “Party in the U.S.A.” by Molly Cyrus
*Montpernasse is a main train/metro station in Paris.

Appreciate that. It’s a lot harder than I though.

Explanation: I went to Paris a few weekends ago. It was a long time coming.

So Paris, what’s that like? Monumental. That pun is intended like you wouldn't believe.

Eiffel Tower. This structure, for lack of a better word, is actually ugly. Sure it is iconic and perhaps a feat of engineering, but that doesn’t mask its aesthetically displeasing appearance. All that steel/iron/some unidentifiable metal painted an ugly brown color. No matter, I still went to see it. It is the Eiffel Tower, after all.

The tower was built for the 1889 World’s Fair. There was a competition. This design won. It has three levels and more restaurants than some American malls. Let’s go up, shall we?

Problem: A lot of people want to go to the Eiffel Tower in Paris and the elevators cost more than some three course dinners. Solution: Take the stairs.

Problem: There are a lot of stairs. Solution: Every now and again, there are posters/signs that have fun facts about the Eiffel Tower. You can stop and read them. That is to say, stop and desperately catch your breath.

Fact: There are over 2.5 million rivets holding the Eiffel Tower together.

I knew a LOT of other facts, but I forget most of them. Probably because while I was reading them, I was worried I might die from asphyxiation. Something about the tower weighing as much as a bunch of elephants… I may have been delirious.

From the top, the view is pretty pretty. Paris:

The view is pretty much the same from each level. The only incentive to go to the third floor is this:

So, you should know that I had absolutely no plans for this weekend trip. Those of you who know me will understand how this might be a problem. There was only one goal: see as many monuments as possible.

Bastille.

This is where the French Revolution “started.” There were angry revolutionaries, a prison, and injustice involved. Also, that modern building in the background is the Opera Bastille. The French think it is ugly. I might refer them to a certain tower.

Les Halles.

This is where the market used to be. It’s not there anymore. Now it’s a park and an underground shopping mall. I went because the market used to be there.

Place de la Concorde. Obelisk.

This sits at one end of the Champs-Élysées. It has gone through a lot of changes over the years, but this is where King Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette were executed and other fun things like that. Now there are some pretty impressive fountains and this obelisk. Straight from Egypt, it has hieroglyphics about pharaoh Ramses II. That’s fun, huh?

The Champs-Elysées.

This one was a disappointment. I thought the Champs-Eleysée implied luxury brands, lavish restaurants, and affluent French snobs. Reality says differently. There are two McDonald’s, a Starbucks, and a Gap, among others.

Arc de Triomphe.

Another iconic monument. It was commissioned by Napoleon in honor of a military victory at Austerlitz (wherever that is). It took a long time to build and there is a lot of significance in the architecture and whatnot. Also, there is a Tomb of the Unknown Soldier honoring fallen soldiers from both world wars under the arc. I got my picture. That was enough.

There is a curious theme in Paris: Giant monuments (both in stature and importance) at the center of equally giant traffic circles. Kind of takes away from it.

Notre Dame.

I did so many mediocre reports/projects in high school about this cathedral. Here are the basics: Gothic, 12-13th Centuries, gargoyles, flying buttresses. That is all you need to know.

Le Louvre.

I didn't actually go inside the museum of museums. That is another trip. I did see the outside, though. The pyramids are pretty famous. Not a lot of French people like them. Again, I refer them to that tower.

Palais Garnier.

The old opera house in Paris. It is considered a masterpiece by architects and is pretty impressive from the outside. To be honest, though, I was more interested in the street performers that were dancing near the steps. Also, you know the Phantom of the Opera? That is here.

Sacre-Coeur.
This is a pretty church at the top of a giant mountain. There was another funicular train involved… and I didn’t know about it, again. Basics: Romano-Byzantine, 20th Century, no flying buttresses. We went to Mass on Sunday morning. It was a terrible experience. Even during Mass they allow tourists to walk through the church. It was very distracting. And it is much more impressive from the outside than the inside, anyway.

The view.

Moulin Rouge.

The Red Windmill. Many a burlesque show has taken place here. I wouldn’t know anything about that. I do know that there are quite a few novelty stores in the area surrounding area. “Novelty” in the strictest sense of the word. I wouldn’t know anything about that either.

And then we went to the Musée d’Orsay. There were no pictures allowed there, but I saw me a little Van Gogh, Manet, Monet, Degas, and others. If there was a color to describe your feelings right now, it would be green.

My feelings: I had an unrealistically romantic vision of Paris before going. So many years of perfect pictures of monuments and the like tend to do that. Paris is still an awesome city. I didn’t even scratch its surface.

I guess I’ll just have to go back.

Holy Days and Holidays

Happy Easter Monday!

You are puzzled. In America, Easter Monday is a calendar holiday (its written on many a calendar with few people actually acknowledging its existence) and maybe a day off at certain Catholic institutions. Not in France. Here, Easter Monday is a holiday. Not so much a holy day, though. Semantics.

Back home, we have holidays. Martin Luther King Jr. Day, Memorial Day, Independence Day, Labor Day, Veteran’s Day, Thanksgiving, etc. About as secular as you can get. Save for Christmas, none are all that religiously orientated (and you may be able to make an argument that Christmas is no longer a religious occasion but let’s not go there). Moral of the story: American holidays are not holy days.

The same can’t be said for France. Among their public holidays are: Easter Monday, Ascension Day, Pentecost Monday, the Assumption of Mary, and All Saints’ Day. They have their memorial and labor days, too. These are just a little something extra.

But how can such a liberal country (relatively speaking, of course) that prides itself on the separation of Church and State allow this blatant mélange of the two and practically shut down on these selected holy days? I have two answers:

1) Tradition. The French hang onto tradition like Rose hangs on to her love for Jack in “Titanic” (figuratively speaking because we all know she physically lets go and his body sinks to the bottom of the Atlantic… how romantic). Many of these holidays have been nationally celebrated for centuries, back when kings and the Catholic Church ruled France. It’s a little hard to just stop something that old (just go to any bingo hall ever and you will see how stubborn old… “traditions” can be).

2) Sloth*. The French are absolutely lazy. They don’t like to work, at all. There are laws stipulating 35 hour work weeks and retirement at 60 (in some cases, 55). These holy days provide the perfect excuse for an extra day off here and there. And who are these people kidding? It’s not like any of them actually go to Church or do anything religious on these extraordinary days. Unless, of course, you count long weekends at the vacation house in the south of France as a religious activity.

But I’m not complaining. I don’t have school today. So, Happy Easter Monday to everyone!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try and find an open bakery for lunch. There are probably only two open in the entire city and they likely close at 1PM. Other than that, most everything else is closed. I honestly don’t know how this country gets anything done. Okay, maybe I’m complaining a little.

*This is exaggerated a tiny bit. There are quite a few people in France who don’t support the restricted work weeks and early retirement. In other words, there are some hard workers here. Nevertheless, the laws are what they are, and the work ethic is not quite compatible to America’s.

The Dinner Table

Dinner time in France is not an opportunity to “fill up” before moving on to some sports practice, a piano lesson, homework, housework, or prime time TV. That’s not to say every French family puts on a production of a dinner every day of the week. It is to say, however, that dinner (and often lunch) is special here. It is on opportunity to share food and conversation. And what are food and conversation but the two basic necessities of life?

That being said, heed well this warning:

To do something “wrong” at the dinner table is to offend a French person for life. That’s it. Game over. This is serious business.

Here’s a little synopsis of what I’ve gathered so far:

Time – It is true that every family is different, but I’d say that the average French family eats dinner around 8PM. Furthermore, should you ever be invited to a dinner party in France that starts at 7PM (for example), you would be wise show up between 7:15 and 7:30. Should you show up promptly at 7, you will likely be asked to leave (and not come back, ever). Also, don’t expect dinner before 8. It’s not going to happen.

Posture – As far as I can tell there is only one rule when it comes to sitting at the table: Keep your hands visible at all times. If the French can’t see your hands during a meal, they think you are doing something “funny” where they can’t see. I’m still unclear on what kind of funny business they think is going on, but they think it. Other than that, you can pretty much sit however you want. Even elbows on the table is permitted. Alas, this rule is not likely to actually offend anyone, but it is just easier to comply.

Bread – Bread never goes on your plate. Never. Just don’t do it, okay. Bread belongs on the table, next to the plate (wherever you find room is fine). They don’t mind crumbs here, I guess, because they get everywhere when you rip the bread apart. Yeah. You rip/tear your bread. A knife? Who do you think you are? (Note: You may be provided with a mini “bread plate” on which you may place your bread. That’s fine, but don’t put the bread on your main plate. Seriously don’t.)

Beverages – There is often wine served with dinner. We are in France, after all. Beyond that, there is water: tap or sparkling. Be prepared, though. The water glasses in France are about the size of Dixie cups. This can be anything from annoying to frustrating.

Courses – The French are big on courses. Whether or not it is a special meal, they like to eat in shifts. Usually it goes like this: soup, main dish, cheese, dessert. That is just the basic set up, though. You can get fancy and add some or subtract others: aperitifs and entrées (I bet you don’t know where the entrée goes*) and all sorts of fun surprises, but let’s not get carried away here.

Cutting – Don’t “pre-cut” anything. Cut one or two (maximum) bite-size pieces at a time. That is all you need. End of story.

Eating – The French like to talk while they eat. They also like to eat while they eat. How do they reconcile these two opposing activities? Talking with their mouths full is not an option – the French are not barbarians, people. Nope. Instead, they eat really quickly. Every time I’ve eaten with my host family, they are finished with their plate before I’m halfway done. And they still keep up with the conversation. It’s actually quite impressive. I suppose they need a little time to digest the food they just gorged, so there is often a good amount between courses.

Eat it all – Clean your plate. If you don’t finish everything, then you don’t like the food. If you don’t like the food, then you don’t like the person who made it. Therefore, if you don’t finish, then you don’t like the person who made it. That’s the transitive property if I’ve ever seen it. This one is real. I may or may not know from experience.

So there are some rules to get you started. Even if you follow these ones though, you will likely still offend a French person in one way or another. Oh well. That’s life (and there are no Walgreen’s in France).

*An entrée goes before the main dish (plat). I’d say an entrée is more or less equivalent to an appetizer (although there usually is not a sampler option which comes with a little bit of everything… too bad).

Cultural Lesson: Happy April Fool's Day! Would you believe the French celebrate, too? Only here it is called Poisson d'avril (April fish). The name comes from the classic French elementary school joke: tape a picture/drawing of fish on the teacher's back (not unlike a "Kick Me" sign) and... that's it. I think we can all agree that the French are fools for thinking that is funny.