Paris, France

The City of Love (and piss)

Paris was the second city of our three city vacation in Europe. We took a train from Amsterdam to Gare du Nord, the central train station. For $20 we upgraded to first class seats. Mainly because the lounge afforded a place to sit and offered free adult beverages for thirsty travelers.

Maybe it was the anticipation of travelling to Paris or the lack of sleep from the night before, but for the life of us, we could not find the first class lounge. I pulled the shortest straw was sweet talked by Alisa into talking to the information booth guy.  Amsterdam is probably one of the friendliest cities I have ever been to. 

But be prepared for the joke, and there's always a joke. After waiting in line, I made it to the comedian working the booth. I asked where the first class lounge was located. In his best Shakespearian voice and with a slightly tilted head, he proclaims, "TO BE." I squinted my eyes to show my inability to learn what I thought was Dutch. Shortly after, my human map continued, "OR NOT TO BE." Lost for words, I continued my dumb tourist gaze wondering what the hell he was talking about. He laughed, "No, really the lounge is upstairs at 2B." 

Rolling 42 lb. suitcases through hoards of vendors I glanced back at Alisa. I probably should have taken the taxi. It wasn't visible yet, but her face was forming. The face that tells me she's questioning her decision to ever listen to me. What Google failed to mention was that 1.9 km walk wasn't flat. We were in the Montmartre area of Paris. The famous Moulin Rouge was right down the hill, above us sat the Sacré-Cœur of Paris.   Roads turned to alleys and alleys eventually turned into steps. 

We walked up where my cell phone told me to go, only to have to turn right back around on the next cobblestone street to go back down. Alisa, cobblestone and luggage wheels don't mix if you were wondering. But we finally made it. The friendly hotel staff quickly handed over the enlarged key complete with golden velvet tassels?? Our room was small - shins were kicked, heads were bumped but it was in a great location and we didn't plan on spending a lot of time there. Public transportation in the form of an underground metro system was easily accessible and provided a cheap way to get around in a city selling $10.00 beers. We took the metro from the Montemarte station back to Gare du Nord. From there we hopped on a train to Versailles. My nephew was in France with a People to People tour. We met him in Versailles after walking through the Hall of Mirrors and wondering why they didn't make visitors  distorted like the cool ones at haunted houses.  The next couple of days we hit the Eiffel Tower, The Louvre, did some Seine sittin' and soaked up the glowing city lights dimmed only by the hourly Eiffel's twinkle light show. Using the CityPass tremendously decreased our entrance fees.

Paris was a beautiful city. But through that beauty, a delicate lingering of the city's rented wine and borrowed beer seemed to flow through the streets. the over-powering fog of ammonia was unexpectedly lifted one bright and sunny afternoon. As almost if out of pure odoriferous compassion, the rain came down hard, immediately after a large flash and the echoes of thunder. We took cover in a nearby underground metro station until the running water started flowing down fast enough to make me think I might need to swim out of there. We tried a tree, which provided little shelter, As the clouds released their grey luggage, we crossed the bridge and found a souvenir shop to duck into. The clever way the gracious merchant displayed the upside-down hanging open umbrellas provided the entertainment during the storm.  It was eventually bumped into by a guy trotting along, hiding under a newspaper. He released today's catch of slippery mayhem from the largest umbrella in the store. Optimism takes many forms.

As the rain let up, we took cover under the awning of a Chinese restaurant and ordered some hot soup. The temperature dropped by 20 degrees and we were soaking wet. (although not as wet as the above mentioned trotter)

We sat sipping soup while our view of the city was interrupted by a visiting city on wheels. Tourist after tourist exited the giant bus arriving just minutes after the downpour, with dry clothes and smelling the City of Love, just after a summer rain, the air void of piss.