The Impressionists and the Red-Light District

The last two days in Paris was, again, a strange mix of events.

There is nothing more iconically (yes, that is a real word) French than the Eiffel Tower, and there is nothing more iconically pop culture than knowing that the Moulin Rouge is not just a movie, but an actual cabaret in the Montmartre part of Paris.

Between the Eiffel Tower, the Musee d'Orsay, the Moulin Rouge and the Parisian red-light district, it was a lively tour of very different arenas of French culture.

You literally can't go to Paris without seeing the Eiffel Tower from almost every part of the city. It is, by law, the tallest building in Paris. Unfortunately, the top level was closed. Again. I have been up the Eiffel Tower twice and both times the top was closed.

But it was still cool. It was super-hazy, but the view was still amazing.

It is not actually surrounded by parks. There are quite a few around it, but a major street, the Champs de Mars, runs literally right next to the tower.

Not surprisingly, I finished my Hemingway book in like three or four days. So, I picked up a book of F. Scott Fitzgerald short stories along the way. So even though I'm not in class, I am learning plenty.

Also, speaking of learning and culture, I went to the Musee d'Orsay while I was in Paris. It literally houses paintings that were inspired and painted outside just meters away on the banks of the Seine. There were so many Monet's and Manet's and Cezanne's and van Gogh's. It was incredible.

Now to jump to the red-light district. There is actually a logical link in this jump, as well. While Manet's famous Olympia painting depicts a prostitute, I walked in the area (in the morning, mind you, so it was pretty deserted) where the sex trade inhabits Paris. The famous red-light district. Also, prostitution is legal in France and a majority of Europe, but only eight countries regulate it. Just as a side note.

Anyway, I wanted to see the Moulin Rouge. I mean the movie is pretty famous. The red-light district really isn't bad, at least in the morning. There are sex shops on both sides of the street for blocks and blocks, but the Moulin Rouge is a pretty cool building.



Anyway, this whole Parisian adventure took place during the Iceland volcanic disaster. I mean honestly, you never hear about that country, but in the last year it has made international headlines for a complete economic breakdown and the volcano that disrupted air traffic in Europe, yet Iceland's airport could remain open. Very dodgy if you ask me.

Well, I was panicking because I thought my flight was going to be cancelled or severely delayed, and I had to finish up a paper and take an exam in a few days. So anyway, I was able to find one of the last tickets for the Eurostar from Paris to London. Thank god because, as I later found out, the Eurostar was booked solid for over a week. So I paid too much for a ticket home, but I did get to ride in first class with full meal service and unlimited drinks.

And I talked politics (American and British) with a British guy who was worse off than me. He had been in New York when the disaster epic proportions, aka Iceland, took place. He said he had to fly to Toronto, then fly to Rome, then train to Paris, then train to London to surprise his girlfriend, who thought he was still stuck in New York, for her birthday. So my inconvenience is slight compared to some, but still, stupid Iceland. And not to worry, more on British (and possibly American) politics in the near future. The British debates/election did just take place after all.

Anyway, I didn't let Iceland ruin the city of Paris for me. I love Paris. It will definitely be a city that I make multiple return trips to. I feel like no matter how many times a person goes to Paris, you see new things every time.

"There is never an ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lived in it differs from that of any other. . . Paris was always worth it and you received return for whatever you brought to it." Hemingway's A Moveable Feast

Mortality and Art and Shopping

The next couple days in Paris were great. The sun was out everyday. I even got a little bit of a tan.

Anyway, the friend I was travelling with is a Jim Morrison fan, and she wanted to see his grave. I have absolutely no idea why he is buried in Paris, but whatever. I didn't really feel like going to try to find his grave, so I wandered about the cemetery and took some great photos. It wasn't like your everyday cemetery. It was really big, and there were a lot of the mausoleums, and a few famous people (Eugène Delacroix) are buried there, and clearly a bunch of wealthy families.  

We ended up moving to a different hostel because Mona accidentally booked a separate hostel because another one of our friends were joining us for the last few days in Paris.

Anyway, our second hostel was in Montmartre, up near the Basilidue du Sacré-Cœur. We walked through Sacré-Cœur and climbed up it. Lots of stairs but excellent view. The only problem was Iceland. The volcanic ash made it a little hazy. 

We went to the Louvre; you can't go to Paris without going to the Louvre. We got to see some great Italian Renaissance paintings and Greco-Roman sculpture. Some people say that the Mona Lisa is not as impressive as you'd think, especially because of the size of the painting. This really annoys me. I guess if you don't know about the history of the piece or the complexity of the what it accomplishes, you just shouldn't say anything. Sorry for the slight rant, but honestly.

The next two things have to be seen while in Paris, but really they aren't that impressive: the Champs-Élysées and the Arc de Triomphe. Unfortunately for my two friends who had never been to Paris, the Arc de Triomphe was getting cleaned so it was covered with scaffolding, but I did get some good pictures of it the first time I was in Paris. 

Six Million Sets of Bones

Paris has an interesting mix of history: beautiful, bloody, and downright bizarre. And my next day in the city was a great mashup of all of the weird history behind the City of Light.

It started out with the typical tourist destination of Notre-Dame. Notre-Dame is a strange sort of tourist destination. It is clearly touristy, you can take pictures, but it's free and often there is a service of some sort going on.

I really like Notre-Dame. It is an excellent example of Gothic architecture, and the grounds surrounding it are beautiful. It's on the island part between where the Seine splits. The cool thing about Paris is the city is literally built around the river. Conversely, in London, the Thames seems to be in the way. Anyway, I got some great pictures inside and outside the cathedral.

It was right at the beginning of spring, so some of the trees and flowers were in bloom. The city was just gorgeous.

Then we decided to go to the crypt, which is underground, practically right beneath Notre-Dame.

I hadn't been here before, so I found it fascinating. It was much more of a museum, but I learned a lot about the past of Paris. It was interesting to see the entire archaeological history of the past 2,000 years of the city laid out.

After that was the catacombs. I was super-excited to go to the catacombs. I had wanted to go on my first trip to Paris, but there wasn't enough time.

It's really cool, but not for people who don't like bones because there are an estimated six million Parisian bones in the catacombs. Basically, in 1785, just four years before the Revolution, the catacombs were built. Previously, the Cemetery of the Innocents had been used for 10 centuries, but had become a source of constant infection and disease. Hence the need for the catacombs.

They were built and consecrated and then became a place to visit. Various famous French men and women visited the catacombs in its early days, including Napoleon III and his son.

Basically you walk down a spiral staircase nine meters and then walk through some dark tunnels before seeing stacks of bones. There were so many bones. It was really cool to see some plaques from the Revolution and knowing that the bones had been there for almost as long as America has been a country.

When I was in Paris, I read Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, which is short vignettes about his time in Paris. It was really cool. I was sitting in the Luxembourg gardens and then I turned the page and literally read the part where Hemingway talked about walking through the Jardin du Luxembourg trying to find inspiration.

This had to be one of the weirdest mix of events in Paris. We saw a cathedral, an archaeological crypt, millions of sets of bones in the catacombs, and one of the largest public parks.

Let Them Eat Cake!

Yes. If I had been alive during the French Revolution, I would have wanted to execute Maria Antoinette, or not-quite-affectionately nicknamed "Autrichienne" (Austrian bitch). Just walking around the gardens of Versailles, while beautiful, would have been a slap in the face to all the people starving because bread cost too much.

My friend Mona and I decided to spend the day in Versailles on our first full day in Paris.

I had already been to Versailles, but it was still gorgeous. While the furnishings are a bit over the top, crazy Marie and Louis, the gardens are absolutely amazing. I got some really great photos from Versailles.

We ate lunch at one of the restaurants within the gardens. I had this really great pesto.

Also, we decided to just sit by the water and relax for a bit. I kept telling Mona that I didn't understand why people thought swans were regal and sophisticated because swans are vicious. And sure enough, a bunch of the swans started fighting while we were sitting there watching them. It was hilarious. They would grab other swans' wings in their beaks. Plus I realized that a swan's neck is actually really disgusting when you concentrate on it for a while.

After the palace, we decided to just walk around the town of Versailles. It really is just a cute French town.

You Have Got To Be Kidding Me

We were all psyched to get out of Marseille and head to Barcelona, so we grabbed breakfast and got to the train station two hours early. You know, just to make sure we got out of Marseille. Apparently the world was against us and had other plans.

The bus tickets we got in Tours said the bus would be at platform one or two, but the screen at the station said platform four. Of course we trusted the station screen that refreshes itself when the information is incorrect. As we're waiting at our platform talking about how awful it would be if our bus didn't show, a bus that said Marseille to Barcelona goes by.

Yes. It turned out that that was our bus, and the bus later that night was already full. We had to buy tickets for the next day because the French train workers were on strike so most of the trains weren't running, at least not direct services. And it would cost about $500 each to fly out. Anyway, we ended up staying at our hostel another night.



This totally reminded me of the Seinfeld episode when Jerry and Elaine go to Florida, and Jerry explains there three remaining days down to like 30 seconds or something between all the time they would spend eating, sleeping, showering, etc.

A Not So Good City Called Marseille

I don't really know how to describe my disappointment in the city that is Marseille. I was expecting it to be this fantastic city: I mean it is the French Riviera, after all. 

So, we walked to our hostel and then decided to get food, and it was later, probably like 11. Anyway, we see a freakin' fetish hooker getting picked up. As we later found out, this was par for the course that is the dilapidated city that is Marseille. Unfortunately, a lot of our down time was spent in the hostel either playing cards or talking or just lounging around.

We went to a beach our first full day, which was fine. I mean the water was beautiful, but the beach was pebbles instead of sand. The unfortunate thing was just how unsafe the city itself feels. We were walking down the street, and Mona whipped out the map to make sure we were going in the right direction. Lindsey and I both literally looked at each other and told Mona to put away the map before we got killed in the middle of the street in broad daylight. The men across the street looked like they were about to jump us in the street. Anyway, on our second full day, we went to Cassis, a small city on the coast.

Cassis turned out to be everything I think of when I think about Mediterranean cities. It had a bunch of outdoor cafes, tiled roofs, bright blue sea, and a sandy beach. We weren't able to stay long, so we wandered down by the beach and walked in the icy-cold water before searching for lunch. 

We found an outdoor cafe for lunch, and the food was pretty good. I had seafood pizza, and the three of us split a bottle of vine from a local vineyard. It's true; seafood in a coastal city is absolutely amazing. 

An Ernest Hemingway Kinda Day

On our last full day in Tours, we decided to just walk around the city before eating lunch down by the river.

We decided to have a picnic lunch a-la-Ernest Hemingway. We grabbed a baguette and a rotisserie chicken to eat by the river. We were already blocks past the grocery store, so we didn't have a bottle of dry white wine like Hemingway always drank, especially with his chicken and baguette lunches.

I got chickened out pretty quickly as did Lindsey, but Mona scavenged that chicken. Weird thing was, the grease was a strange neon green color, but the chicken tasted good.

We went out for Moroccan for dinner, which just reinforced my desire to go to Morocco. God that food is amazing.

Tours was everything I think of when I think about a smaller French town. Kind of quaint in a great way - amazing architecture, delectable cuisine, châteaux, croissants and wine.


After an anxiety-ridden airport experience, Tours was just the thing I needed. Besides one day of feeling terrible, I only have good memories of Tours. It was another city, like Belfast, that wasn't too touristy, and I can't wait to have an excuse to return.

Châteaux-ing in the Loire Valley

After a lovely breakfast of croissants, pastry, and tea, we went to the tourism office and decided to visit a couple châteaux, and the office provided a driver.

It was the three of us and a couple from the UK plus our driver, Pascal. The weather was gorgeous, and I loved the châteaux we visited.

The first one was called Chenonceau, and Pascal told us that the King had given it to one of his many mistresses, but the Queen Mother reclaimed it once the King had died.

Anyway, it was built over the river. The inside was classic royalty - everything was detailed, even the extremely high ceilings. The grounds were beautiful; I love French gardens.

Then we went to Amboise. Apparently, Leonardo da Vinci spent the last couple years of his life there. The castle wasn't as impressive, but there were these weird bushes there.

We wandered about the town - it was really cute. When we got back into Tours, we just walked around for a bit before calling it a day.

A Beautiful City Postponed

The second day in Tours was . . . interesting.

I felt totally fine when I woke up, and we went out and got croissants and pastries before wandering around the city.

We stumbled across a cool cathedral in the middle of the city. And it had a lot of flying buttresses. I love a good flying buttress.

Anyway, I started seeing weird lines and things, which had never happened, so I assumed my eyes were still adjusting to the dim interior as opposed to the sunny weather. Unfortunately, I got a splitting headache and then felt nauseous, culminating with me almost losing my breakfast inside a Domino's as Mona and Lindsey waited for their pizza.

As it turns out, the French are known for taking extremely long lunches, like two hour lunches. So, our hotel was closed because the front desk guy was on his lunch break. We waited outside until a cleaning woman opened the door for us, and I slept off the worst migraine I've ever had for the next few hours.

That night we went out for Chinese, almost everything else was closed for Easter Monday, and then we got Daim McFlurries. And even though I felt crappy, and as Lindsey said, I looked like death or like I was going to faint, I got some great photos, and for the little while that I didn't feel like I wanted to pass out just so the pain would stop, I enjoyed walking around the city.

A Series of Stressful Events

So our start to France was not exactly ideal. We ordered tickets online for the Stansted Express train from Liverpool Street station to the airport, and we were taking the tube to Liverpool Street. We left plenty of time - or so we thought.

Only one line of the underground was open (since it was Easter), and it had major delays because a train up the line had problems, so we sat at the station for 10 minutes. It finally went to the next station, but there was still going to be delays for who knows how long. We just walked the half hour to Liverpool. So the 10 minute underground trip took about an hour.

We figured we still had time because the train only takes a half hour, but the tracks were closed for maintenance. We got on a bus. All of us were freaking out that we'd miss our flight but thought security and stuff wouldn't be bad, so we were going to be fine.

Turns out our bag was over the weight limit (as much as I love RyanAir, I hated it twice as much in this moment), so we had to repack it. Twice. And in the confusion, a corkscrew ended up in Mona's hand luggage. So her bag had to be searched and repacked after security.

But no worries; we made it to Tours.

I absolutely love France. Even though every thing was shut down for Easter, the city we stayed in was beautiful. Tours is in central France, so not on a coast, but a river splits the city. We mainly wandered around the main plaza for a while on our first day.