Bonjour, France!

Chapitre V: Paris II

April 30

8:30: Sunny, 23. Time to put on my new floral skirt and step out onto the streets of Paris! The thought gives me quite a buzz. 

9:00: Sacre Cœur. A beautifully serene start to my morning. The Place du Tertre...not so much. Caricaturists can be quite a persistent bunch! I much prefer a quiet promenade around Amelie’s streets. Unfortunately, I don’t manage to find Café des 2 Moulins for a crème brûlée, but I do find a maxi pain au chocolat. I’m sure this is meant to be shared between two, or five, but... Oh look, it’s the Moulin Rouge!

11:00: The Orangerie Museum. Words cannot express how much I love this place. Monet’s Les Nymphéas grace the walls of two oval rooms and a corridor of Renoir makes me weak at the knees. Why it is not on Paris’ Top Ten list, I will never know – and don’t tell me that not everyone is as obsessed with Impressionism as I am, dear reader. Trust me, I will remain saner in denial. 

13:00: “On se retrouve pour des escargots?” Yes, of course I’ll meet you for snails! I find my roommate in front of the Opera Garnier (I’m going in next time), and follow her to the bustling Chartier restaurant. The best place for snails in Paris, she proudly informs me. Oh, and mouth-watering crispy duck. I love my roommate. 

14:00: I’m not sure this much good art in one day is a smart idea. The withdrawal symptoms are not going be fun... But how can I resist? I skip through the doors of the Musée d’Orsay with my museum pass and gravitate toward to the Impressionism section. Cue instant goose bumps and tears (I’ve really got to stop this crying business). Degas, Lévy, Monet, Sisley, Renoir, Pissarro... Pastel tutus, alluring eyes, dancing lilies, endless paths, soft nudes, a corner of a garden... 

A woman sees me staring so intently at Monet’s London, Houses of Parliament (The Sun Shining through the Fog) that she pulls her son out of my way... Oops. I do immensely enjoy the other artworks in the museum too, of course, though that may be partly due to the fact that I don’t stumble upon any Picasso. I wonder what Corot’s landscapes are selling at... Maybe that will be my new incentive for becoming a neurosurgeon.

18:00: Time to enjoy some macaroons and Lafayette-style retail therapy. Or just retail – no therapy needed on a day like today!

20:00: Off to see a little metal tower and some sparkly lights. I decide that going up alone is not the best way to avoid all the Siamese twins I am suddenly surrounded by, so I amuse myself by taking photos of the Seine instead. See? As pretty as any of the last twenty postcards I’ve been offered.

May 1

9:00: As we walk down the Champs-Elysées, my roommate becomes increasing distressed as she realises that none of the shops we pass will be opening at their promised time. It’s definitely mayday- I mean, May Day!

10:00: The real Arc de Triomphe this time. I am impressed, but certainly not by the tourists. One yells at me to move out of their photo while others tread over the commemoration plaques without a downward glance. Ugh.

12:00: One last walk around Paris – for the next little while anyway. Window shopping, I spy a puppy that steals my heart so fast that I nearly smack my forehead on the glass. Going into pet shops in foreign countries is a bad idea. But going into one back home could be even worse... 

15:00: Au revoir, Paris. Goodbye, France...

20:00: Back in Switzerland at last! Beautiful Switzerland. Home sweet home and bed warm bed.
Zzzzz...

Now that was one excellent holiday.

Bonjour, France!

Chapitre IV: Paris I

April 28

11:00: What is the first thing to do upon arriving in Paris after a three-hour train ride? Find a good crêperie to power up for the hours of inevitable walking and metro-ing ahead. According to my roommate’s travel brochure, Crêperie Josselin is a clear favourite. Well, if the crowd of locals fighting to squeeze into the cosy restaurant is any indication, we have come to the right place. Ham, cheese and mushroom crêpe accompanied by traditional cider, followed by blackcurrant and salty crunchy caramel gelato... I can already say Paris, je t’aime.  

12:00: I leave my roommate and begin my exploration of one of the most famous cities in the world. Having survived the crowds of hasty Parisians underground, I climb out breathlessly (due more to the endless metro steps than anticipation) onto Place de la Concorde. The view actually makes me squeal. I am face to face with the Obelisk, the Eiffel Tower standing nonchalantly in the background and the Arc de Triomphe in the distance to my right. If I turned and walked through the Jardin des Tuileries to my left, I would find myself staring at two of the largest art museums in the world. And that's just what I do.

14:00: Notre Dame. Majestic, yes, but I am more than a little disenchanted by the crowds of obnoxious tourists rushing around to get their “perfect shot”. It isn’t exactly easy to find serenity when I am being blinded by flashes everywhere I turn. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one to hold back on the clicking, but I dearly hope that it will never be with so little respect for the sights I am capturing.

16:00: As I cross bridges of locks and play photographer to lovey-dovey couples, I feel the cold, bony fingers of Loneliness slide around my neck. But I hadn’t expected the City of Love to treat me too kindly this time around...

18:00: To escape the rain and the greyness trying to creep inside me, I seek refuge in the Église de la Madeleine, a Roman Catholic Church designed originally as a temple to the glory of Napoleon's army. I walk out an hour later. Smiling.

April 29

10:00: Obviously, I am not the only one who thinks that Versailles is a nice place to be early on a Friday morning. This is the line after tickets... Worth it? You bet.

There is quite a fascinating throne exhibition in the castle, from that of Emperor Qianlong of China (left) to King Rü Mfo of Cameroon (right). 

Jaw dropping ceilings, room after room. My neck suffers for a few hours, but how can you tear your eyes away from this? 

The Hall of Mirrors. No one should be allowed to be this rich! If he hadn't been such a benefactor of the French Baroque movement, Louis XIV would certainly not be such a Sun King in my eyes.

The gardens – finally, no longer just a picture in my Music History textbook. Cue Bach. Oh my, is that actu–? Of course not, silly me, just an old man with curly white hair.

16:00: The Louvre. Staring at the glass pyramid, a memory suddenly comes flooding back... I am nine years old, pouring over a page in my Chinese textbook, mechanical pencil in hand. I carefully underline three strange black characters on a pale yellow page, “卢浮宫”, with two almost equally strange words, “Louvre Museum”, written beside them. Now, ten years later, I am also about to discover the meaning of a third phrase: “Musée du Louvre”. 

22:00: I walk out of the now glowing pyramid in a daze. I feel as though I have travelled through several thousands of years in the space of six hours. However, being the Impressionism addict that I am, the best was yet to come...