Got to Paris at about 1:45 on Sunday afternoon, Paris time. Had to grab my bags and such from the airport, then figure out where the hell I was going to catch the RER into town to Gare du Nord. Wasn’t that difficult, really. I even got a discount on fare because I looked under 26 years old! It was fantastic. From Gare du Nord I was quite happy that I had a map as I got a little turned around. Thankfully my navigation skills are generally pretty good, and was able to find A’s place in very little time at all. Dumped my stuff at A’s place and contemplated heading into town to do something or see something, but wasn’t sure what B and P would want to see or do over the next couple of days, so played it safe, and stayed at A’s. That was an experience in itself. The apartment is actually her parents’, but is so quintessentially Parisian… It’s sort of U-shaped around a central courtyard, and when you’re standing in the hallway on one side, you can see into the hallway on the other from the windows across the courtyard. I was in awe – the stairs up to her place (on the 3rd/4th floor depending on which English you speak) were marble-y, and the door looked like something out of a movie set in Georgian times (yes, I know Georgian is an English reference, but I study English history… what do you want from me?). It’s white… bright white… and has plasterwork on the ceiling in the sitting rooms… the kitchen is 20th century IKEA, sure, but other than that…

So I sat at A’s and read for a while, and then watched the England game (which England won), and then read some more until P and B arrived. We went for dinner at a Quick (think French version of McDonald’s, as it was late and everyone was tired).

Next morning was pretty laid back. We eventually made our way down to the Ile de la Cité to see Cathérale Notre-Dame. Last time both B and I were in the city it was covered in scaffolding… and finally, it wasn’t! Yay! So I got to take all sorts of pics of the west end that I missed last time due to bright green scaffolding. We then moved on to the Musée National du Moyen Age, where there are all sorts of great medieval artefacts and furniture and the like. It is also home to the tapestry series “La dame à la Licorne”, which is absolutely beautiful and if I had thousands of dollars to spare I’d by replicas and decorate my home around them. As it stands, I bought postcards that I can frame when I get home to Canada. Seriously. A cushion cover for a standard sofa-size cushion was 33 euros (that is, about 55 dollars Canadian!). And the replicas go for about that price everywhere, so if you want an actual hanging, you’re looking at about a thousand bucks. Oy. But I digress.

From there we went and had lunch… and then we did the Paris for Tourists walk… we started at the Palais du Louvre, then wandered through to the pyramids by Pei (I honestly don’t remember them from last time, though they must have been there…), past the Arc du Triomphe du Carousel du Louvre, past the obelisk, down the Champs Elysées, to the Place de la Concorde, where we then got to see the Arc du Triomphe proper. We then copped out and went home for a bit. B is only about my mom's age, but she’s got health problems like you wouldn’t believe – severe sleep apnea, diabetes… probably doesn’t help that she’s a fair bit overweight. Makes quite a bit more determined to try and keep it up with the exercising. She did really well, considering that I think she’s in worse health than my grandma! But we sat for a bit and gave B time to rest, time for P to catch up with A… and then went up to Montmartre and the Basilique Sacre-Coeur. The views from Montmartre are fantastic. We had dinner there (by this time it was getting quite late), then it was home for tea, and off to bed.

Next morning we needed to do some shopping. P’s in the process of opening up a guest house down in Toulouse and needed to get some small things for it (teapot, soap dish) and needed to get some shoes for her daughter. While she was doing the latter, I hit a pharmacy. Parisians SMOKE. Like you wouldn’t believe. Honest. It’s disgusting. You can’t walk down the street without inhaling a LOT of second-hand smoke, and smoking is permitted in every bar and café, and you don’t think twice about lighting up in most places. I’m blaming this bit of my cold on that – I had an extremely scratchy throat that degenerated during the rest of the day until towards evening I couldn’t speak in anything more than a whispery croak. Thank god for Strepsils.

We then wandered down to the Marais, to Place des Vosges (posh area of Paris in the 1700s, still really posh), past the Centre Pompidou (not necessarily an ugly building, but it looks WRONG in its setting), found someplace to eat lunch, and then wandered off to the catacombs. I’d not been, B hadn’t been… and it was fantastic. It was awesome in the most literal possible sense of the word. Literally millions of Parisians are now interred there. It’s a consecrated space, a massive ossuary. And it was necessary. There were a bunch of Americans (about my age or slightly younger) down there at the same time we were, going on about how ‘gross’ it was and how ‘morbid’ the French had to have been to come up with something like that. I felt like turning around to them and going “no, what was gross was the Parisian cemeteries at the end of the 18th century. You couldn’t dig a new grave without disturbing an old one, disease was rife, and quite frankly there was no other way of solving the problem this respectfully. This isn’t just some tourist attraction. It’s a sacred space.”

We then returned to the apartment. Poor B. She got stuck with me and P on this trip. P and I watched the end of the Brazil-Ghana game (which, predictably, Brazil won), did a bit of reading (P, after all, was partly on this trip to get some necessary evils done – she owns two apartments in Paris and needed to see her tenants about some proposed remodelling), and then headed out to the Marais again to find someplace for dinner. Someplace, that is, with a big screen TV. Wasn’t hard. Ended up in an Italian restaurant, watching France take on Spain. For 90 minutes, B got very little conversation out of P and myself. France wasn’t supposed to win, but they did. And I couldn’t even cheer along! My voice was totally gone. Disturbing, I tell you. The city was celebrating that night. Cars honking, flags waving… Even the cops got in on the celebration. It was great. At one point B asked what they’d do if they won the final. Lord, that’d be a street party of enormous proportions. But seriously, I’d not experienced anything like it since ’98, when I was in London and France won the cup. It was fantastic. The atmosphere was incredible.

Unfortunately Wednesday morning was pretty uneventful, occupied mostly with packing and the train ride to the airport. I had to say goodbye to B and P on the train, as they had to continue on to a different terminal, which was sad… and then I flew home. I've not done much since.

Further photos can be found at:
http://www.kodakgallery.co.uk/I.jsp?c=jb6f3x1.c09x8zct&x=0&y=-kphmbr

Enjoy!