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...
