Travel Report: Paris

2010
05.01
  • Dates: December 29th 2008 to January 4th 2009.
  • Accomodation: Ibis Porte d’Orléans, 33 rue Barbès, 92120.
  • Transportation: Eurostar from London St.Pancras to Paris Nord.
  • Food: Mostly supermarkets and hotel restaurant.
  • Activities: Arc de Triomphe, Tour Eiffel, Les Tuileries, le Musée du Louvre, Château de Versailles, Notre-Dame-de-Paris, Sacré-Coeur, Moulin Rouge.
  • Total cost: around €600 for two people.
  • Appreciation: 2/5.

Paris by Anne Gauthier

As some of you may have guessed, this is not a pro-Paris kind of post. Francophiles out there, please stop reading now and carry on to the next post, thank you.

 My experience in Paris was, to put it in a polite way, memorable, but definitely not in the way I would have hoped.

Parisians have a somewhat solid reputation that precedes them worldwide; I expected rudeness, language issues and bad weather. However I was surprised at how out of proportions all those expectations actually were.

Paris. It does has a very nice ring to it. City of lights. Amélie Poulain. Cheap wine. Expensive designers. Rated as one of the most romantic places ever. Right.

As I got off the Eurostar in Gare du Nord, I looked around for Métro ticket machines in order to get to my hotel, which was pretty much on the other side of the city. Finding none that was actually working, I decide to queue and wait for a till to open - I waited 45 minutes. That still amazes me today: how can an international train station not offer working machines (or permanent clerks) for Métro users?  There were roughly 100 pissed people waiting to buy tickets and get to their hotel, including me. When I finally got the chance to proceed, the clerk told me that the weekly pass is €16, which was lower than I expected. I told him I was surprised at how cheap it was and considering I had just saved €5, I was all smiles. His answer was plain and very courteous: “That’s because we pay them with our taxes”. Hum. I was tempted to remind him that my only presence in Paris was probably going to cost as much as his weekly wage and thus I was pretty much paying him myself - inner poise, inner poise. If I had spoken, it would have probably escalated in a very humiliating public argument (with yelling and staring and certainly swearing at some point), and I would have ended up with no ticket at all stuck in Gare du Nord with that jerk. Peace was my ally, even though I looked like a total fool ignoring his comment.

Hôtel de Ville by Anne Gauthier

One of the many reasons why I expected so much from Paris was because we, French Canadians, and the French, call one another cousins, feeling that we are somehow still related 400 years after colonisation. But really, all we have in common is our language and yet we apparently don’t understand one another very well (although if you ask me, they are the ones not wanting to understand us, or anyone else, for that matter). A friend of mine says that it’s a totally different world outside the maleficent ring road of Ile-de-France, to be fair. I expected to find a lot more of my cultural heritage in Paris than I actually did, especially regarding my language.

After a brief language incident in McDonald’s (apparently French McDonald’s employees don’t even speak French anymore, English has taken over), a bistro waiter asked me what I would like to order, in French, to which I answer in perfectly audible French. His reaction was to ask me what language I speak and put on a blank stare, looking at me like I had just blurted out some Japanese slang. From that point on, I only spoke English - it really was the easiest way to be understood, sadly.

This all happened on the first day, within the first few hours. I was off to a good start. Seven more days to go. Yay.

Let’s take a closer look at my itinerary:

Champs Élysées by Anne Gauthier

Day 1

Arrived at Gare du Nord at 10 after a lovely ride through mustard fields. Train was stucked over half an hour in the Channel Tunnel – not that am suffering claustrophobia or anything but being stuck in that particular spot is nothing too fun. Upon arrival, was kind of shocked to see countless soldiers with very impressive firearms everywhere in the station (although definitely understood why after ticket incident). Finally arrived at hotel at 1PM. Took a little time to wind down, re-find inner poise and add more layers to outfit because of freezing weather. Left with a total of 6 layers on. Hopped in the Métro and got off at Charles de Gaulle - l’Étoile for first official landmark sightseeing: the Arc de Triomphe. Kind of regret not climbing all the way to the top and see the 12 avenues emerging in different directions from the chaotic  and fairly dangerous roundabout below. Walked down the Champs-Élysées and felt very poor and somewhat bored apart from pretty Christmas lights in the trees. Went on a mission to find quaint French bistro with plenty of locals, but failed to do so in the immediate hyper-touristic area and finally settled for a typical American bar on a nearby street, whose only advantage was to have a simple menu and even simpler prices. Not so much for authentic French dinner though. Stopped by a supermarket on way to hotel and bought some snacks – which, in absence of fridge, were kept in the supermarket bag, hanged outside the window. Was reminded of Christmas parties back in Canada where beer and food were left on the porch because the fridge was too small.

Versailles by Anne Gauthier

Day 2

Took the RER train to Versailles - Rive Gauche. Cozy ride on top floor, sitting on retro brown leather seats. Previously booked entrance tickets online and avoided one of the two queues - security only took over an hour. Was very proud of self-forehandedness. However, did not enjoy visit because of major overcrowding - could barely circulate in peace, was pushed around in all directions. Horrible Jeff Koon exhibition of vacuums right in front of Marie-Antoinette’s official portrait, how about that?  Loved the view of the snowy gardens. Took tons of pictures of the Bassin d’Apollon. Walked over to the Petit Trianon, which was more enjoyable as pretty much empty. Would definitely go back in summertime to enjoy famous flowery gardens. Had to wait over an hour to buy RER tickets back to Paris as all ticket machines were down and only one till was open (yes am that lucky) - however the clerk gave wrong tickets and could not go through the turnstile. Finally ended up going through over the said turnstile, boarding in manner of outlaw crook.

Day 3

Cruise on the Seine. Although am proudly Canadian and Canadians are apparently not supposed to feel the cold, never felt this cold in entire life. Did not move an inch during entire journey. Must bring anorak next time and look like authentic Canadian (could wear striped belt and pretend to live in a log home, too). Cruise is a great way to enjoy details of bridges, not so much of landmarks, and create new geographical checkpoints. Took the Métro to the Champs-Élysées for a giant New Year’s Eve party, which locals news said was going to be huge, festive and memorable. Er, no. No countdown, fireworks, musical event, circus, nor entertaining dwarfs, nothing - just 600,000 drunken people having individual countdowns every 5 minutes. Was ironically frightened by the amount of police officers on duty.

Tour Eiffel by Anne Gauthier

Day 4

First beautiful day of trip. Started at Trocadéro with excellent views of the Tour Eiffel. Great photo spot with perfect blue sky in background.  Have to admit that finally seeing the Tour Eiffel is quite something as very iconic.  Was tempted to buy red béret and pain baguette. Walked over the bridge and through Champs-de-Mars to finally end up at Les Invalides. Lovely golden dome. Crossed the extravagant Alexandre-III bridge, which is ornated with remarkable cherubs and such. Hung out at Place de la Concorde for a while. Walked passed l’Orangerie, through Les Tuileries and to Rue de Rivoli. Forced boyfriend to shop for awhile. Waited outside over an hour to visit the Louvre and of course, as polite Canadian, queued even though many people bypassed. Hurray for youth: free evening visits for those under 26. Made way to La Joconde (Mona Lisa), La Vénus de Milo, La Victoire de Samothrace and La liberté guidant le peuple (am big Coldplay fan). Had to fight through the crowd to take quick picture in front of La Joconde, which is protected by a glass wall (hello reflections) and two armed security guards. Quickly felt arted-out. Left the Louvre, walked over an hour to find decent place to eat – failed again and ended up in questionable pizzeria on even more questionable rue Saint-Denis because of inability to walk at this stage of the day. Immune system would have felt safer in space suit.

Basilique du Sacré-Coeur by Anne Gauthier

Day 5

Hopped off the Métro at Les Halles. Loved the quirky Fontaine Stravinski near Centre Georges-Pompidou, although the Centre looks like some kind of space ship that landed on Earth at a very random spot. Quickly walked towards Hôtel de Ville and the giant skating rink. Crossed the Pont d’Arcole and arrived at Cathédale Notre-Dame-de-Paris. Quasimodo not in sight. Couldn’t climb all the way up as closing time was fast approaching, sadly. Was very impressed with the architectural details of the cathedral, inside and outside. Too bad there were hundreds of noisy people that obviously didn’t appreciate the calmness and magnificence the Cathedral offers. Stopped by the numerous souvenir stores near the Cathedral and bought famous “Tournée du chat noir” poster. Grabbed sandwiches and candies on way back to hotel and called it a night.

Day 6

Had a little more sleep than planned in the morning and watched a silly reality show about who’s the best dinner host called “Un diner presque parfait”- these French really are obsessed with food. Took the Métro to Château Rouge and climbed all the way up the Montmartre hill to Basilique du Sacré-Coeur. Very impressive views of the city. Basilique is grandiose, although didn’t visit inside because kind of fed up with churches. Beware the bracelets sellers down the stairs, though - very intimidating. Wandered around Montmartre and ran dinner errands in several little homey shops in manner of authentic Parisian seen in movies (not the actual ones). Walked down to Moulin Rouge for typical tourist photo and found the boulevard not charming at all and pretty much filled with trashy strippers club. Not very inviting.

Day 7

Went back to the Eiffel Tower, this time actually going up. Did not felt the urge to wait over three hours outside to have a bird’s eye view of something I don’t fancy back on the ground floor but sometimes pleasing mother-in-law is more important than what one wants. Gasped when saw a map pointing out to London – 340 kilometers. Most exciting moment of the week. Nonetheless amazed at how cramped all the buildings are out there. No wonder Parisians are always in such a bad mood. Slowly made way back to Gare du Nord and arrived in London after an eventless Eurostar ride home. Hopped on the 253 at Euston and collapsed in bed 15 minutes later, exhausted – but thrilled to be back in tiny Camden shoebox called home.

My conclusion: Paris is a milestone for any European traveller, no matter what. It’s a beautiful place to visit - if you take into account that a lot of Parisians are rude and live in a parallel universe. With that in mind, it’s much more enjoyable.

Paris by Anne Gauthier

I’ve got to be honest and admit that the architecture is one of the prettiest I’ve seen (my cynical side would definitely add ‘one freaking chance’ but let’s try to be fair). The way balconies are decorated and how buildings are coherent as a whole really creates a nice visual touch, giving an internationally recognisable and classical look. Most properties are well maintained, which allows visitors to witness authentic features and appreciate the Era where everything did not look like it was made out of a squared concrete box. I was even able to overcome the extreme dirtyness of the Métro because I was amazed by its simplicity and efficiency (and the padded seats).

Do I regret going? Not a minute. As I mentioned, Paris is a must-see for any traveller and I’m glad I had the chance to visit it. Would I go back? I actually did, and I appreciated it a little more the second time around. Probably because I knew what to expect and did not get my hopes too high. In other words, as long as you don’t think of Paris as the eight world wonder and don’t end up suffering the Paris Syndrom, you should have a pretty good time.

All photos by amazing Anne Gauthier.

Absolutely Necessary Item

2010
04.29

I need to get this t-shirt.

I left my heart in London - Forever 21 T-Shirrt

London 10 Quirky Places

2010
04.23

Spanish Roadtrip Chapter 1: Ronda and Gibraltar

2010
04.16

About one year ago, I officially declared that a Spanish road trip was THE perfect way to end a European one-year adventure. Take in as much sunshine as possible with me over the pond or something like that.

So, with the help of spanophone friends living in Granada at the time, we started to plan our journey,  taking the five of us to every corner of Spain. Quickly we realised two things: we were too short on time to explore an entire country and we would certainly have to wash dishes at some point if we actually went to all those places.


Afficher Spanish Roadtrip sur une carte plus grande

We decided to stick to four major places: Andalusia, Cuenca, San Sebastian and Barcelona. Yes, we did decide to actually cross the country but on a much more realistic journey than initially planned, starting south and slowly making our way up north and ending on the East coast.

Road block, Spanish style

We landed in Malaga at around 11 in the morning on a beautiful Andalusian day, meeting our Granada friends there. Drove straight to Ronda, which is about an hour and a half drive. In theory. In practice, however, things turned out a little bit different. Driving to Ronda isn’t exactly a walk in the park; roads are sinuous and steep most of the times, making the travel sick people, well, sick. It took around three hours in total, but not just because of my faint nature. At one point, the road was blocked by wild goats. We stopped for awhile and took a few pictures because it was quite an unusual sight for us urban birds.

Ronda bridge

Finally got to Ronda at around 3. We had a small gazpacho at Restaurante Flores, right by the Plaza de Toros. The whole street is actually an outdoor terrace where you can hardly tell the difference between restaurants. They might as well have a communal kitchen for all I know. Wandered around the city and took lots of pictures of the famous 120 meters tall bridge, which is the main attraction.

Then, we hopped back in the car and drove to Gibraltar, stopping a few times along the way to enjoy our surroundings. This time the journey was much smoother and we made it to our destination by 7. Crossed the border (which actually is a runway) without having to open our passport - apparently showing 5 Canadian passports is enough to get in Gibraltar. The customs officer told us the Upper Rock reserve was closed for the day. Shoot. Well, why not drive to the top and take a picture just to show we were there, we said.

Cutest monkeys ever

Now, again with the transportation problems, but this time on a whole other level: not only are roads very narrow and sinuous, but you can literally see the bottom of the Rock, right there, at your feet - 400 meters below. Yes, that’s scary, especially when sitting on the wrong side of the tiny, tiny car. Got distracted at one point by my friend who started yelling something about monkeys. Through my nervous and exhausted tears I didn’t get it a first, but then - what, monkeys? Oh my God, monkeys ! Everywhere ! Luckily, the observatory gate was still open and unattended. Not only did we get in after hours, but we saved some serious bucks and had a truly unforgettable experience - alone with monkeys, in Gibraltar, overlooking the sea and catching a glimpse of Morocco, at dusk. We just couldn’t get over it.

After a while on top of the Rock, it was time to call it quits and head back to our friends place in Granada for the night. We had a GPS (tenderly called Albert) who indicated us to go that way - but of course we decided to go the other way because it looked much more simple. So we drove down the Rock for 5 minutes only to face the worst possible scenario: locked gate. Someone, somewhere, must have been really upset we didn’t respect the rules. We couldn’t go any further. And no,we definitely could not

Gibraltar

turn the car around and drive back up. May I remember you that the road was about 2  meters large, merely enough for a car, let alone the fact that the sea is right there below us without any sort of protection other than a half-foot high cement block. We did the only possible thing to do: we drove in reverse, back up the hill, not knowing whether another car was coming behind us or not.

Probably one of the scariest experience of my whole life. We had no idea where we were supposed to go and the darker it got outside, the more nervous we were, Gibraltar not being recommended for tourists at night (especially in such a vulnerable situation I guess). We drove into another lane, but this time we sent two members of our team in search of locked gate before going any further, which they found. Back on reverse mode. At one point, we met a couple driving down the Rock too, only they knew exactly where they were going. We followed them and finally got back to Spain - exhausted, high on adrenaline and with what we knew was going to be a good story to tell our grandchildren one day - if my heart doesn’t fail from facing a similar situation again, that is.

Needless to say we had a good night’s sleep when we finally, thank God, arrived in Granada.

Up next: Granada, Cordoba and Malaga.