Being a running account of the exciting adventures of Dave during his two-week visit to Paris. No, I'm not wearing a beret.
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Try emailing me: dbardallis-at-yahoo.com
I can't promise I'll respond.
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An Ugly American in Paris
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Saturday, June 15, 2002
Still here... been out late the last few nights. Details to come.
3:33 AM
Wednesday, June 12, 2002
I just wanted to say I've been checking my email regularly and getting your comments, even if I don't reply. Oh, and here's Steve's Paris page with some photos of the city and his apartment, etc. Bon soir!
3:40 PM
I spent the evening at a café in the rue Cler, a quintessentially Parisian street full of bakeries, wineries, and at least one "fromagerie." It felt good to just relax, sip my l'Abbaye de Leffe, and reflect on the things I've done so far, the things I still want to do, and some general observations. I'll start with the last first:
Nothing says "Hey, I'm an American tourist!" like wearing white tennis shoes and/or a baseball cap. Oh, and shorts are right out, unless you're on a soccer team. (Speaking of which, defending champion France's team got booted out of contention for the World Cup Tuesday in the first round by Denmark.) I think my moustache must say something too, since I see few French people with them. On the other hand, not shaving for several days seems like a fairly common fashion statement (such as "my razor is broken"). Deodorant, for some, seems to be optional. Sportcoats are common. Jeans range from "normal" to this weird style that's dark on the sides but lighter in the middle of the leg. Bell bottoms, jeans or otherwise, also seem to be thriving.
Parisian apartments are small, which must explain why Parisians' dogs are, too. You see these overgrown rats, leashed or unleashed, everywhere, trailing behind their indifferent owners, often gracing the sidewalk with "souvenirs." But I know what you're all really wondering. Are Parisians rude or unfriendly? I hate to deflate a cherished myth, but if they are, I haven't seen it. What I have seen is many small acts of kindness, from men helping women carry luggage up a staircase or giving up their seats on the bus to an older lady offering unsolicited help to an obviously confused Chinese tourist studying a map in the Metro station. Some customs (whether specifically French or generally European, I don't rightly know) are different from ours, and when misunderstood, can seem a little rude. But on balance I'd say people here are no ruder than those in New York, and probably quite a bit friendlier.
As for what I've done, I'd say I've gotten about half of the touristy junk out of the way. I have a couple more days to get the rest done this week, after which my museum pass expires. I have yet to get anywhere near the Eiffel Tower or the Louvre, and I still need to get out to Montmartre to see Sacre Couer. I hope to finish up the "must-see" tourist stuff this week so that next week I can begin my vacation from my vacation.
2:59 PM
Another day of whirlwind (if whirlwinds walk in Nikes) tourist stuff. I began the day at the Arc de Triomphe, climbing the 248 or so steps up to the top. Twelve avenues, including the Champs Élysées, converge around the Arch, creating an amazing mess of traffic. Somehow all the drivers manage to figure it out, but it's beyond me. Driving in Paris in general looks really scary, but whatever works for them....
On top of the Arch is a great view of the city. To the northwest, down the Avenue de la Grande Armée is the suburban Grande Arche de la Défense, and to the southeast, down the Champs Élysées, is the Place de la Concorde, where the guillotine shortened thousands of people by about a foot during the Revolution. Standing in the place now is a strange 2,300-year-old obelisk with hieroglyphics on it, apparently a present from some Egyptian muckety-muck to a previous French king.
On the Champs Élysées, I couldn't resist stopping at Le McDonald's for lunch. Laugh all you want, but the place serves something besides ham and it is far and away the cheapest chow I've seen. Besides that—and here is one thing Europe gets right—you can order beer with your Big Mac. Lest you think I am TOO "americain," I did successfully complete my entire order in French. And a few days ago, Steve and I ate at a decent Chinese restaurant. As for "authentic" French cuisine, I am still on the lookout. I've been here nearly a week and I still have no idea what the hell it is. Unless it's ham.
After sipping my McBeer and scoping out the bustling Parisians and tourists, I headed down to the Place de la Concorde, then crossed the river and headed over to Les Invalides. Les Invalides, which includes the tomb of Napoleon, may be the only site in Paris where German tourists can't snicker. Speaking of which, there were a lot of Krauts around today. Maybe they are planning another invasion?
2:27 PM
Tuesday, June 11, 2002
Today's adventure involved lots of walking. I returned to the Île de la Cité, hoping to climb the towers of Notre Dame (I didn't yesterday because I got there late) but there was a huge line and I was too impatient. So I walked over to the adjoining Île Saint-Louis and from there over to the famous Left Bank. I wound up at the Musée d'Orsay, which houses western art from around 1848-1914. This means Impressionism mostly, but there is also a lot of other stuff there. Van Gogh, Monet, Manet, Seurat, Gauguin, Toulouse-Lautrec, and others were well represented. You could spend an endless amount of time in such a place, but I'm not a big fan of museums. Not that I don't like art, but I am decidedly uncomfortable with throngs of gawking morons and walking from one big room with paintings to another big room with paintings over and over for hours at a time. I suppose when I do the Louvre, it will be much worse. Still, I'm not sorry I went. It's something you have to do.
3:46 PM
The latest installment of "the same but different" came tonight with a trip to the grocery store (or supermarché), where I bought about $50 (sorry, 50 EUROS, which is roughly the same thing) of chow for the next week or so. Eating in cafés is ridiculously expensive, so I'm going to avoid it as much as possible. Anyway, tonight's shopping excursion was not so much the same as it was different. Pop in strange-looking 1.5 liter bottles is hardly the oddest thing. Suffice it to say, I don't really know what I bought. Beef is not the favored meat here; ham is. In fact, beef is really hard to come by. Pizza doesn't have pepperoni on it. Ever. Period. Even the frozen "pizza l'americain" I bought has ham and mushrooms, but no pepperoni. I also got some beer (of course) - a couple six packs of pretty good Belgian ales. But the apparent normal size of beer bottle is 25 centiliters, which is I don't know what. It looks like around 8 ounces or something. Doh!
3:21 PM
Monday, June 10, 2002
I got up late this morning; I think my body still needed some serious sleep. By about 2 o'clock, I was suited up and armed with all the neat toys that Steve apparently equips his visitors with: a cell phone, a big book of detailed maps, and, best of all, a hand-held GPS doodad that tracks where you are by satellite. It's impossible to get lost with this high-tech stuff. I'm not just a tourist. I'm a tourist-warrior.
Steve actually lives across the Seine from Paris, in a suburb called Saint Cloud. In order to go into town, I have to take a bus for about 20 minutes, then catch the Metro (subway) to go to some place interesting. Today I went to the Île de la Cité, the island in the Seine where reposes Notre Dame and various other landmarks. There I visited the Conciergerie, a prison used during the Revolution, no doubt to house all the dastardly folks who weren't sufficiently enthusiastic about completely remaking the whole of French society according to the half-baked utopian ideas of whatever nutballs happened to seize control of the state and its power. You know what they say about attempts to create heaven on earth.
I also visited Sainte-Chappelle, a chapel built to house Jesus's crown of thorns. I found out a bit later that this relic is now at Notre Dame. And Notre Dame is... wow. I can't describe it in words. But if a single word could suffice, it would be ECHO. The place is huge. Entering it is not so much a matter of stepping back in time but of stepping back in mind—the medieval mind. Notre Dame of course means "Our Lady," and it is to Christ's mother this impressive cathedral is dedicated. And it is clear from such buildings as Notre Dame what medieval society dedicated itself to: the love and the power of God. Today, we in the West (including what used to be called Christendom) would never build such a glorious structure, and not just because we no longer believe, but because we no longer hold anything dear enough to bother.
2:07 PM
Sunday, June 09, 2002
The thing about France, and Europe in general, is that everything is the same as at home, only different. Take the toilets for instance. They look like toilets and work like toilets, but you flush them by pulling up on a knob on top. There's no familiar lever. Two liters of pop? Non! There is a 1.5 (I mean 1,5) liter bottle, though. And this morning, we went to Mass at a local church. Of course, we knew what was going on because we are familiar with Catholic Masses. But in a different language? Nope. I could name a thousand other examples, and probably will over the course of this journal.
My three years of high school French is not of very much value. I can sort of read signs and I know in my head how words SHOULD be pronounced, for the most part, but I can't make my mouth make those sounds. Neither can I think fast enough to know what to say in a conversation. So I'm mostly reduced to grinning sheepishly and pointing to things on menus.
Steve has learned more French and is able to order intelligently and carry on some small conversations, but even he gets confused before too long. Learning another language is of course a lot of work.
I did see some touristy stuff briefly today: part of the Champs Elysees and the Arc de Triomphe. I didn't go up the Arc though because I still need to buy a museum pass which will get me into all sorts of touristy junk for one price. Steve says on the Arc are carved the names of famous French generals who surrendered.
Tomorrow I'll be on my own during the day as Steve has to go back to work. And so I had better get some rest since it has gotten rather late.
2:45 PM
Bonjour! I awoke to the lovely sound of a French guy calling from the parking lot to say he had my luggage. Actually, Steve answered the phone and I heard him talking to the luggage guy, who apparently didn't speak English. So today I was clean, rested, wearing new clothes, and ready for serious tourist action. The only trouble was the weather was horrible. It was cloudy all day and began to rain later, so we did little more than hang out in cafes and then go to see Star Wars (complete with French subtitles).
4:27 AM
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