PARIS

Once again I play catch up with my blogging. I warn you that this is mammoth compared to my last few postings, but stay with me on this one.

There is no witty (or semi-witty or attempted witty) title for this blog. Enough is said by just the city. Paris, city of amazing monuments, famous red-light districts, incredible art, and stairs; many, many stairs.

Plaza San-Michel

I arrived in Paris on the afternoon of the 30th of May to nice but overcast weather. As I disembarked the train my jaw dropped just a little as the Gare du Nord set the tone for the entire 4 days of my Parisian immersion. I made my way down the to underground where I managed to buy myself a ticket and work out where I needed to go. I arrived at my accommodation, the Caulaincourt Square Hostel tired (there were about 5 flights of stairs from the underground platform to the exit and then again to the hostel) and ready for bed, however being early I decided to set out and quickly explore and find myself some dinner. After walking past 3 boulangeries (bakeries/patisseries) which I mentally prepared myself to continue to walk past for the duration of my stay (I have a weakness for cakes and all things sweet and I do like my waistline the way it currently is *giggles*). I returned to the hostel more than ready to work out my plans for tomorrow and head to bed early. I had already figured out that Paris was going to exhaust me both physically and mentally, so needed as much sleep as possible.

One of the Louis'...

The next morning I awoke with a plan of action. Today was to be my tour day. I would do the walking tours of both Paris and Montmartre to try to see as much as possible in a short time, and then work out what else to go back and see later.

After a quick breakfast I left and started to walk. Having looked at a map I had decided that the distance from my hostel to the walking tour start point wasn't that long and I could walk it easily in an hour. Not only was this a complete under-estimation of the distance required it did not make sense given my days plan. I ended up (after walking nine-tenths of the way) hopping on a quick subway ride so as not to miss the start of the tour and to save a bit of energy.

The Louvre from the Road

I arrived in Plaza Saint-Michael just in time to get my ticket and join a tour. My tour guide was absolutely lovely and started by giving us a history of the beautiful building and fountain we were standing in front of, before moving us over onto a bridge to see a statue of Louis XVI before walking us through the Ile-de-Cite, past the Notre Dame.

From the Ile-de-Cite we continued the tour past the Louvre, stopping in the courtyard for a spot of history, tips about visiting and skipping the major lines, and then made our way into the downtown shopping area of the Champs Elysees.

Me at the Louvre

After a quick coffee and bathroom break we continued on the second half of the tour, making our way towards the Jardin de Tuileries. We walked the length of the gardens, cutting through the middle to find ourselves at the major fountain and then stopped in Place de la Concorde to have a quick chat (yeah, right) about the French Revolution and The Bastille whilst taking photos of the Egyptian Luxor Obelisk. Such a nice light-hearted topic of conversation for a walking tour!

Napoleon's tomb

After this short history lesson we continued walking towards what our tour guide affectionately introduced to us as "the boys museum", which actually turned out to be the War Museum containing Napoleon's tomb. The tour ended shortly afterwards as we sat on the stairs of the tomb and listened to more history, before moving off towards the restaurant where we were to have a typical "French lunch", and I finished the afternoon by sitting with a lovely Singaporean couple for a meal before starting out on my own once again.

The restaurant was in full view of the Eiffel Tower, so I decided that I would make my way home via there and then the Arc de Triomph. I had known my first day would be packed and would exhaust me-I was incredibly correct!

The Tragic Lamp-post

I approached the Eiffel Tower and was stunned. It was one of those "Bloody hell...I'm in Paris" (imagine with a Ron Weasley accent) moments. Sometimes when travelling on your own you get lost with your own thoughts and forget where you are; then someone speaks to you assuming you speak French or the language of wherever you are, and you are bought crashing back to reality in a haze of warm and fuzzy realisations that you're actually half way around the world. I love that feeling.

I didn't end up climbing the tower; I didn't feel the need to wait in a tourist line for hours on end. I was planning the tour of Montmartre that evening anyway and had heard that there were better views of the city from the Sacre Coeur. As such, I took my photos and got some taken of me (thank you once again random Australian travellers) before making my way through the 'burbs and towards the metro station. My next stop was the Arc de Triomph; something I'd seen from a distance on the walking tour but hadn't actually visited as such.

Arc de Triomph

As I emerged from the underground I was greeted by more memories from home as I heard the sweet sounds of the John Butler Trio (Funky Tonight-good song) being played by two young French guys on guitar and kahun. They were quite talented, but by the time I returned from the Arc they were being move on by approximately 5 policemen and women which I thought a shame as they had created quite a nice atmosphere (they also had QUITE an audience).

After my time at the Arc de Triomph I made my way to the Moulin Rouge district, famous for its red wind-mills and dancing girls. Thanks to my pre-walking tour-walk that morning I knew exactly where we were meeting for the Montmartre Tour, and as it was a Starbucks I took the opportunity to recharge before heading off to tick off a few more boxes of "sights-to-see" in Paris.

The Moulin Rouge

The tour started. My guide was quite inappropriately hilarious; attempting to demonstrate the Moulin Rouge Can-Can whilst in tight jeans (disaster) and then walking off before we could laugh any more, with us following like sheep.

We made our way up the Montmartre Hill, stopping briefly outside the Cafe used in "Amelie" and then continuing up to the former house of Van Gogh. We saw the statue of Saint Denis with his head being held in his hands, and then continued on for a quick stop this time of a Swedish Disco/house artist whose statue was apparently lucky if you rubbed it in the right place (I didn't try-dignity was kept in tact).

The White Rabbit Restaurant

After this quick stop to her her story, we continued on up the hill to the White Rabbit restaurant and were told of how Pablo Picasso drew portraits of the waitresses as his way out of paying the bills as a struggling artist. We then made our way further up the Montmartre Hill, marvelling at some random people on the street who were apparently well known actors (though the guide could have told us anything and we would've believed him).

The Sacre-Coeur

We arrived at the Sacre Coeur and once again I was lost for words. We approached the cathedral from the rear, and it was a stunning view of the building which apparently not many tourists got to see as you had to walk a different way up the hill to reach it. We entered and walked around the inside, viewing the most amazing mosaic work I have ever seen and then left and walked the gauntlet of sellers of everything from model train sets with the alphabet that you could connect into different words to little Eiffel Tower key rings. My parents will be interested to know that I stuck to my word and didn't buy any of the damn things. I tend to steer clear of the disgustingly touristy souvenirs; this was no exception.

View from the top

After taking in the stunning city views from the base o the Cathedral (I went into my "cold hearted bitch" mode and the sellers didn't come near me-I WIN) we made our way down to the artist square where I resisted the urge to have my portrait sketched (vanity at it's finest *giggles*) and then walked down the the artists house where Pablo Picasso had lived as a young artist. We then finished the tour with a "free" (aka: included in the price) glass of wine at the Amelie restaurant bar, listening to some OK (it was live and free so I won't complain) jazz music, after which I made my way back to the hostel to have a quick dinner and fall exhausted into bed.

The Napoleonic Apartments

The next morning I made my way to the Louvre. I had planned to spend the better part of half a day there, taking in some amazing art-works and acting incredibly cultured. After being told "Don't forget me" by the young French man selling me an entrance ticket who wanted to sneak into my luggage back to Australia (I'm not sure why, Paris is a pretty cool place to live) I made my way through the non-existent line (thank you inside knowledge of the metro station entrance) into the Louvre to spend the next four hours of my life battling a bad sense of directions and lack of signs to find the Mona Lisa (amongst other things).

I started with the Antiquities. I have always enjoyed actual artifacts rather than paintings, and as such the Ancient Egyptian, Greek and Middle Eastern exhibitions were absolutely fascinating. After spending a good deal of time marvelling at how advanced these societies were I moved on to the Napoleonic Apartments. I had been told that these would make me motivated to work hard for my goals in life; after seeing the opulence and wealth oozing from every corner of the apartments and with the guides comments from the day before that one day I too could "have all this and more" (ahh optimists)  ringing in my ears, I moved on to the painting galleries. After wandering for a good hour and a bit looking for it, in finally stumbled across one of the most famous paintings in the world; the Mona Lisa.

I want a dining room like this when I'm older.

Now, I really mean no offence to any art-buff reading this post, but I do not understand why the Mona Lisa is so a) fascinating, b) famous or c) incredible. I didn't have high hopes for her after speaking to others who had seen her and come away disappointed, and after having to elbow my way in between Japanese tourists and young children (no prisoners were taken) to get to the front, I decided that I was going to be apathetic and move on to some other galleries before heading to the nearest Starbucks for my daily caffeine fix. I have developed a startling habit of drinking coffee whilst in Europe; I never would at home. I'm not sure, maybe that's just the musings of a young Australian woman who doen'st know much about art; correct me if I'm wrong.

I made my way home via the Notre Dame, the infamous cathedral, apparently home to a hunchback and immortalised by Victor Hugo in 1831. I joined the hundreds of tourists sitting around the side taking photos before heading back to the hostel once again exhausted and ready for a good night's sleep. I had actually changed hostels that morning due to hostels being full and expensive, and a such got a nice room in the Vintage Hostel for the night.

The Notre Dame

The next day I awoke ready for a MASSIVE day of sight-seeing. Today I was to conquer Versailles, the summer residence of Louis XVI and Marie Antoniette. The weather was bright and warm and I was in high spirits, setting off early for the train and arriving around 10 am.

I bought my ticket and entered the palace. Audio guide in hand I set off, awkwardly placing my water-bottle in my pocket as I tried to juggle too many belongings with a not-big-enough handbag.

Versailles

The Palace was over-the-top opulence; everything that looked like gold was actually gold, no corner left untouched or unfinished. I took the self-guided tour of the Palace before making my way into the Gardens. Due to the nice weather I managed to spend the better part of 3 hours walking amongst the tall hedges, finding little spots out of the sun and view of other tourists to rest and just enjoy the beautiful day. I made my way through the fountains towards the Grande and Petit Trianons, more examples of extreme wealth, however not as much grandeur. After touring the tow residences, I managed to find my way back to the train station through the gardens; slightly sun-burnt, tired, sore however incredibly pleased with my day.

Amazing.

I made my way back to the hostel to pick up my luggage, quickly stopping to make sure that I could actually catch the train I had planned for; I was to make my way to Beauvais that night as I had an early flight the next morning. I caught the train no problems and once there was adopted by two young French teenagers who walked me to my hostel out of pure kindness and then left me to my own devices. Beauvais it pretty much a small country town, however it had the most unexpectedly gorgeous cathedral (although that is pretty much it). I stopped to buy dinner (chocolate crepes) and managed to fool the waiter at a restaurant into thinking I spoke fluent French with my amazing food ordering skills (and a few quick smiles) before heading back to the hotel ready to polish off a half bottle of white wine I had been carrying around for too long and getting some sleep. I had printed off my boarding pass and was all packed so that the next morning I could leave without a hitch.

Grande Trianon

HOWEVER. It turns out that I am the sort of girl that will move to a different city for a single night  paying extra for a hotel room, so she can leave later for a flight and get more sleep and take all every possible precaution so that she makes her flight with plenty of time to spare; only to leave her boarding pass in her hotel room and have to run through the pouring rain (leaving her bags with strangers on the street) back to the hotel to get her pass; hoping like hell that it's still open and the key is still on the desk and almost missing the only bus that would get her to the airport in time for her flight. IDIOT.

The Gardens

I made it to the airport, drenched and after walking between terminals (once again in the rain) to check in my bags, buy some breakfast and collapse onto my plane seat for my quick flight to Milan.

The next part of my journey proved quite eventful as I met up with Eliza Howland and James Bird (who is also blogging his travels; check out "From Smiley Fritz to Santiago" if you fancy a good read) and as such I will leave my posts here. Still playing catch up, but coming much closer to being up-to date now I have the monster recap of Paris finished.

More Gardens

Until next time my dears,

Love Love!

Clem xx