Day Eighty Eight: Paris

June 23, 2017

I got up in time to be the first one through the door at Boulangerie du Chateau at 6:30. This was my second last chance to wake up and just walk a block to a bakery for warm bread. However I must be subconciously preparing to return to Canada, because I chose a seeded brown bread, not a baguette, and even had it sliced. I am not a total disaster yet, though, because I also had them throw in 6 croissants, and I did put Caprice des Dieux cheese on the seeded bread.

One bit of evidence that I have not been in France long enough is that I described my bread to Didier and Corinne as one with "semences". They laughed and corrected that to "grains". Maybe it's a subtle difference, but I realize now that semences is more like grass seed than a bread topping.

Today was our day for a gentle renewed peek at Paris. Mainly we wanted to return all the way to Notre Dame de Paris, which we left eighty eight days and about 4300 km ago.

The way in to Paris this time was the RER suburban rail. We have sometimes thought about taking the bikes on this, but so far have only done it with the bikes in cases. This morning there was barely a way to get ourselves and no luggage on. We hit the rush hour, and at one point it seemed like Tokyo, with people having to really squash to get in and let the door close.

Paris transit is for able bodied people only, with lots of stairs and long walks inside stations. In the RER, Dodie with her two canes found a way to sit on a step inside the rail car, otherwise there would have been no way.

The train got very crowded. No way to take a bike on here!

The Chatelet - Les Halles station is not a station in the common sense of the word. Rather it is a huge underground warren. But unlike something equivalent in Montreal, it is not an underground city, with shops. It is just infinite tracks and corridors and levels. There are at least a dozen exits, each one taking you up into a different area. We did some savvy map reading and came back to the daylight quite near Tour St Jacques.

Atop Tour St Jacques there was St James to welcome us back. And we thought maybe we could now go into the tower grounds. No such luck. Three month ago the signs said they were de-ratifying it. They must have finished that, because now the place was closed for renovation of the pathways. Ok guys, we'll check back on you in a year. Or how about two years - you don't want to have to rush at all.

Two different Paris cyclists: One tourist and one office worker.

Theree months ago we also could not get in to the Sainte Chapelle, for some lame reason. But this time we could. The Sainte Chapelle is in what was the Palais de la Cite, the palace of the kings from the 10th to the 14th century. Now the main palace is repurposed as the Palace of Justice, but the Sainte Chapelle is still there.

Sainte Chapelle was started by Louis IX around 1242. Louis (later, St Louis) had gone out and bought a pile of relics of the Passion of Christ, most notably the Crown of Thorns. He paid for this more than it cost to build the Chapelle. The crown is now in Notre Dame, I think.

Without the Crown, Sainte Chapelle's claim to fame are the huge, tall, gothic stained glass windows. The whole thing is quite small, after all it's a chapel not a cathedral, but the windows are still extremely impressive.

Many modern cathedrals have acquired a large tourism component to their existence. But the same token, many also retain a "holy" atmosphere, and still hold masses. Sainte Chapelle is not like that, being as far as I can tell a purely tourist thing. That would account for a gift shop in the lower chapel, taking up about 10% of the total floor area. No problem for us tourists though. We bought there a child's guide to Paris, which as always, should be just about our level.

The Palais de la Cite, with the Sainte Chapelle

Sainte Chapelle has a lower and an upper section. Here in the lower section, it's gorgeous but also houses a gift shop

Said to be the oldest wall painting in Paris

We bought this book to study up with at home

Back on the streets of the city, it was time to marvel again at the architecture, the bridges, the Seine, the cafes. We ran through the cities of the world that we know, and realized that none can compare to this.

In the distance, the iconic Eiffel tower

It was then time to return to Notre Dame. The first thing we noticed was a Veloscenie sign. Next time, since we are already plotting next time, we will follow that to Mont St Michel, after following the Avenue Verte from London, no doubt.

The next thing we noticed was the long line to get into the cathedral. No worries, since we started our tour outside and not inside. So we drummed up a random person and got them to photo the two of us, back again. Although there was a quiet satisfaction in this, the photo has no arms raised in jubilation. I think we are now too tired out for a lot of arm raising!

We then slipped beside Notre Dame and stopped by one of the ubiquitous Paris cafes. We got some crepes as a snack. They were made on a long and narrow griddle rather than the traditional round one. Still came out great.

Fortified, we carried on in the diretion of the Bastille. But still near Notre Dame a rather funny little man commented on our Canadian flags, which are sewn into the vests we wear whether on the bikes or not. He said (as they all do) that he had a family member in Canada. That kicked off a quite long and rambling conversation, covering mainly politics, and within that Macron, Trudeau, Trump, terrorism, and the EU. The man was also knowledgeable about Santiago and the north coast of Spain. He was very intelligent and lucid for a funny little man.

The scarey thing, documenting the meeeting with a photo I realized that Dodie and I are a "funny little couple", and you will see in the photo that neither Dodie nor the man is the funnier one, especially on the elegant streets of Paris.

Juxtaposition of the Veloscenie and Notre Dame

Quite a lineup to get into Notre Dame. There was also a long line to climb the left tower

Grampies have made it back to Notre Dame after more than 4000 km

Also scarey, but maybe comforting, is the extent of security - on the bridges and along the Seine. We walked up to the clump of police in the photo and verified the way to the Bastille. They answered sweetly. But two blocks later an automatic weapon equipped police woman would not talk to us - quite properly - we could be a terrorist distraction plot. We thought she was right on, and she directed us to her colleagues in a van, who did show us the way.

There was security all over the place, particularly at bridges and at a Paris Olympics event by the river. Lots of police vehicles with sirens running around all day freaked us a bit.

We betrayed our relative ignorance by only now finding out that the Bastille no longer exists. It was not only stormed in 1789, it was destroyed. Wow, talk about being crabby about a building!

We trudged slowly back to the centre of the city and had a seat at the Sarah Bernhardt cafe. We wanted something suitably "Parisian", and Sarah Bernhardt seemed appropriate:

"Sarah Bernhardt (French: [sa.ʁa bɛʁ.nɑʁt];[3] 22 or 23 October 1844 – 26 March 1923) was a French stage actress who starred in some of the most popular French plays of the late 19th and early 20th century, including La Dame Aux Camelias by Alexandre Dumas, fils, Ruy Blas by Victor Hugo, Fédora and La Tosca by Victorien Sardou, and L'Aiglon by Edmond Rostand. She also played male roles, including Shakespeare's Hamlet. Edmond Rostand called her "the queen of the pose and the princess of the gesture" while Victor Hugo praised her "golden voice". Her death scenes in the final acts of her main roles often moved the audiences to tears. She made successful theatrical tours around the world, and was one of the first prominent actresses to make sound recordings and to act in motion pictures."

We went for ice cream, which properly should be our last calorie orgy of the trip. Dodie got Poires Belle Helene, of course.

All that exists on the site of the Bastille

We chose what seemed like a real Parisian cafe

Maybe our last Poires Belle Helene (and banana split), until the next trip. Dodie is looking contemplative.

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