Our train arrived in Paris a little before 11 in the morning. We spent some time trying to figure out whether we could actually get reimbursed for the train ticket we had to exchange (fingers crossed it all works out), then got a taxi to the hotel. The taxi ride was a little terrifying. I'm not convinced Parisian motorists respect lanes. Our cabbie was weaving in and out of traffic and even went up on the curb a few times. But we made it to the hotel in one piece and got settled there.
We'd known this would be a cheapish hotel, since we'd splurged a bit in Barcelona and would mostly be staying in nice places in Ireland. But it was practically a hostel. We weren't allowed to have food in our room. We're still not sure the door to our room even locked, though thankfully nothing was stolen. The elevator wasn't big enough for both of us plus our suitcases. And the staircases were uneven and each contained a different number of stairs (ranging from 17 to 22) But it did have a bed and a shower, and that's ultimately all we needed. At least the toilet wasn't down the hall.
Once we'd deposited our bags and cleaned away the grime of travel, we headed out to enjoy Paris. Our hotel was near the Gare du Nord train station, pretty far north of the interesting stuff in the city, and definitely not the station we'd arrived at earlier that day. But walking is good for you and way simpler than trying to figure out a subway system in a foreign language. Of course, after walking about 10 miles a day every day in Barcelona in flip flops, my back was beginning to complain mightily about all this walking. But more about that later.
We stopped in a little cafe for lunch where I got the best pasta carbonara I've ever had in my life and Kevin got a rather mediocre chicken fried steak. Then we continued walking down to the river, stopping to take a picture of the Opera House and check out a couple of shops. We wandered down the Champs-Elysees and found a bench to sit on. There was an adorable dog who was so small his belly grazed the top of the grass. He was playing fetch and every time he took off running after the ball, it looked like he was just skimming along on top of the grass. Then we headed back to take a look at the river and walk up to the Lourve.
Guys, the Lourve is massive. It's roughly the size of the National Mall in DC. This place just keeps going and going and however close you think you're getting to it you still have so much farther to go. Along the way we saw a trampoline park, a statue of a tree that looked exactly like a tree that had just fallen over, a couple of goats, and a strangely disproportional statue of a woman. We stopped next to the last one to play cards for a bit and were accosted by a couple of ducks. They walked up to us, one on each side and stood begging for food. They had that same look in their eyes Kina gets, except a bit more insistent. And they refused to go away. It was honestly a little scary.
When my back was feeling better we continued on our trek to the Lourve. We finally made it to the plaza where everyone is selling cheap Eiffel Tower keychains. We kept walking until we finally came to the glass pyramid and I sat in awe at the massiveness of this building. Neither words nor pictures can really capture how truly huge it is - you'll just have to go there for yourself.
After we had properly admired the Lourve (without going inside because we didn't want to spend the time or money) we found a little cafe for Kevin to get a fruit tart. Then we found a different cafe where we split half a liter of wine and played more cribbage while we waited for the rain to stop. Then it was time to head over to Notre Dame, another hugely impressive building. Between the height and the stained glass, it's no wonder people used to fear God as much as they did. Also, does anyone know the interior ceiling height of Notre Dame? We were guessing maybe 100 or 150 feet, but had no way of checking this. The internet mostly concerns itself with the height of the building and it's spires.
We had a couple of hours to kill before our dinner reservation at this point, but that wasn't enough time to find another monument or anything. So instead we found a bench to sit on, and I read while Kevin napped. While we were sitting there I saw two couples in wedding dress arrive to take pictures outside Notre Dame. I guess it's a pretty popular spot for wedding pictures, even on a Tuesday afternoon.
Kevin woke up and we decided to wander a bit more. I'm really glad we did, because right by Notre Dame we came across a memorial that I had no idea was there. The Deportation Memorial is at the tip of the island that Notre Dame is on. You go down a narrow staircase to a white courtyard. Then when you turn around there's this dark crypt that has hundreds of lights representing the Jews who were sent to concentration camps under Nazi rule. It was incredibly powerful.
We still had an hour and half until our dinner reservation at this point, but we figured that it would behoove us to at least figure out where the restaurant was, and maybe get some drinks in the meantime. We found the restaurant, which didn't look open, and retraced our steps to get some wine in a cafe at the end of the street while we waited.
Dinner itself was pretty amazing. Kevin got escargot, which he'd been hoping to find since we got to France. I had this weird avocado thing that contained the same ingredients as guacamole but tasted absolutely nothing like it. Then we had lamb and duck while talking to a woman who was sitting by herself at the table next to ours. She was spending a month in Paris to celebrate her 75th birthday. When we told her we were celebrating our honeymoon, she got the wait staff to bring us complimentary champagne with our desserts. She was a pretty excellent lady, and I'm glad we were able to talk to her a bit.
After dinner my back was still killing me. The chair was wedged against the wall in a way that required me to sit crookedly which did not help things. We briefly tried to figure out the subway system, but I decided that I could power through and walk back to the hotel. We only had to stop once for me to rest while we drank beers in a bar district we stumbled across.
The next morning the plan was to get up, get breakfast and head to the airport. Our flight to Dublin wasn't until 1, but we figured that we might as well sit and read at the airport as anywhere else. So after finding some crepes, we headed out to the Charles de Gaulle airport, which is officially my least favorite airport in the world.
Getting to the airport proved pretty easy. The subway ran from the train station right by our hotel all the way out, and we managed to get on an express line that didn't stop anywhere else. I was surprised that not only does Paris allow food on their subway, they actually sell it there. It made me miss DC's relatively clean metro.
We were at the airport by 11, at which point we entered hell. We were flying on Aer Lingus, which only had one flight out of the airport that day, so there was only one person manning the check-in desk. A second person came at one point, but only stayed for half an hour. We stood in that line for over an hour. When we finally got to the front, we discovered that we had to go somewhere else to pay for our checked bags. There, we discovered that the weight limit was lower than we'd expected - 20 kg as opposed to 23 kg (50 lbs). We ended up paying 80 Euro to check our bags, which we hadn't been expecting. And they didn't even give us a chance to repack things into our carry-ons and get the weight down or anything.
With tickets in hand, we wandered through the massive airport, found the right security line, stood in that for another eternity, and finally made it to our gates minutes before the plane started boarding. It's a good thing we got there as early as we did. While we sat at the gate (Kevin was engrossed by Kvothe earning his talent pipes), a little old lady who reminded me immensely of my grandmother struck up a conversation with me and we spent some time complaining about the airport and the French in general. It was nice to gripe a bit after the ridiculous ordeal. Then it was finally time to get on the plane and head to Ireland.
Honestly, the food in Paris was excellent, and it was fun to see the sights. But given the stress of the train and the airport, and my general impression of the city (dirty, smelly, crowded, not unlike NYC except no one spoke English), I think we would have been better served to spend an extra day or two exploring Barcelona and cut France out of the trip altogether. Oh well, next time we'll know not to try and cram an entire city into single day.
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