“When a city is truly, architecturally beautiful, my main metric involves weather. Paris is undoubtedly at it’s most gorgeous in the rain and at night.” – Old Sean
To the Continent
Ah, Paris. I typically don’t have the fondest memories of my time in Paris, but I’ve always liked the city somewhat. This trip has cemented my enjoyment further, reminding me of the magic that millions find so appealing. After a disastrous attempt to take a bus from London to Paris, my brother and I were in no shape to explore the city.
We were wrung out and tired, having not slept at all and only eating a single free meal on the ferry over. Deeply desiring a fair amount of rest, we opted to stay and extra few days in Paris before making the push to Bordeaux.
Our host, a lovely young woman with blue hair and a puppy named Twix, was happy to accommodate us. We racked up a considerable amount of nap time while we focused on recovering our sleep-addled sanity.
My brother and I were technically unsure of the amount of time we had in Paris. The bus tickets heading south were insane, prices at well over 100 euros per person. As such, I had to wrangle with Blablacar for a ride, but responses proved somewhat unreliable.
Exploring Paris
Without knowing exactly how much time we had in Paris, my brother and I made several rushed forays to see as much of the city as we could. Our first evening, after a long nap, was spent heading to the city center to see the major sights along the Seine. We did a swift lap of the partially repaired Notre Dame and pattered through the streets, trying various dinner restaurants.
We meandered along the Riverwalk to spot the Louvre, the Tuileries Gardens, the Place de la Concorde and finally, in the distance, the Eiffel Tower herself. We finished our day eating stirred meat bowls of Vietnamese food before calling it a night. Our first day in Paris proved too draining, and we ended up returning home to slumber long and deep.
On our second day, we truly hit our stride. My brother, after a month of walking around with me, finally increased his stride stamina considerably. We were able to eat up miles on foot, seeing every corner of the city while we wandered.
We started the day with coffee and a caramel-chocolate pastry-cookie for my brother. We then passed a couple of triumph arches, before stopping at the oldest stone house in Paris, the Nicholas Flamel House. Unsurprisingly, this structure is thought to be part of the inspiration for J.K. Rowling’s owner of the Philosopher’s Stone. We also passed the Centre Pompidou, a bizarre inside-out museum with various pipes and structures resting on the outside of the building.
The Artist Squat
It was not long before we visited one of my favorite places in Paris, 59 Rivoli. The famous artist squat used to house artists illegally living in the narrow building, creating artworks throughout the structure. The long spiral staircase is pained with gradually rising murals, and a severed purple serpent’s tail hangs from far above.
The artists who showcase at here often change, meaning the exhibits are different with each visit. My brother and I visited rooms of dotted light, intense clutter with train tickets, intricate murals on walls, overlooks viewing the city below, strange paintings that appears to combine circuit boards and ancient maps and rooms filled with blaring-bright geometry.
Capital Attraction
My brother and I next returned to the Louvre for a slower exploration of the riverside area. We followed the Riverwalk for a few hours, capturing tantalizing glances of the Eiffel Tower in the distance. One of the unique things about Paris is the design of the roads, in terms of visual directions. All of the central “spokes” of each rode generally face famous icons, such as the Eiffel Tower, Sacre Coeur or the Arc de Triomphe. This means that when the road twists the right direction, these structures are usually beautifully framed by white-stone buildings.
My brother and I finally arrived at the Tower, cheerfully marching through the bustling Champ de Mars. We continued to walk through the streets on the south side, finding odd arcades with strange sculptures, such as standing creatures combined into a trinity at their fused backs. There was also a mirror tunnel with endless recycled cardboard making a thicket of thin branches behind a glass panel. Further along was another art piece, a small trickily fountain coming up from the ground below, warping cement tiles into a clunky geometric ramp.
We passed several pastry shops which offered free chocolate samples and my brother got a pair of cherry-cake-ball candies, a Parisian specialty. We eventually made it to my favorite place of rest in Paris, the Luxembourg Gardens. We collectively put up our feet and leaned back, sighing in relief as we rested near shade and fountains.
Overlook
From here, we took the subway directly north to the greatest overlook of Paris. Originally, we hoped to find diner in this area, but Paris does their meals late, so we had to wait some time for a small restaurant to open. But once we were fed, we hiked up a steep incline to the artfully pale and dominating Sacre Coeur. The church was impressive as always, with it’s immense white walls, accordion player lounging outside, huge overlooks of the city below and fence absolutely bent with the weight of thousands of love-locks clipped into place.
It was much how I remembered it, with the exception of the crowds. The last time I had visited, there were scant few people on a weekday at the top of this steep hill. However, when Ryan and I arrived, the crowds were nearly too dense to navigate. We bled into the surrounding streets and parlors for a respite, walking around Montmartre and Square Louise-Michael as the sun began to dip.
There’s actually something profoundly wrong with Paris‘ sunset sky, though I cannot ascertain the reason. During sunset, the sun is viscously bright and direct. There’s a diffusion of the orange light which goes straight down roadways, causing everything to glow with the soft touch of light. But for whatever reason, this same light always seems to hit eyeballs directly and makes walking west in the evening a challenge.
Paris at Night
My brother and I remained undaunted. From Montmatre, we hiked south back to the river area, stopping to see odd plazas with giant checker shapes, street artwork, a fairy violin in an antique shop and finally the river at sunset. We hoped to visit the Eiffel Tower and Riverwalk once more, this time lit up for the night.
Paris is beyond beautiful at night and in the rain. Everyone who visits must strive to see the city in one of or the other.
We returned home again, but I failed to find an affordable ride to Bordeaux. Thus, we rented a new apartment in Paris and switched locations. Due to our extremely strenuous walk the day before, my brother decided to rest inside for a good chunk of the day, venturing out for a couple of meals. Otherwise, I spent some time walking the streets of our new zone, delightedly stumbling across a live concert venue with free entry. I spent a long time bobbing my head to French music before ordering a robust cheese platter and heading home at midnight.
Bastille Day
The following day was July 14th, Bastille Day, also known as National Day. A patriotic holiday in France, the holiday is known for large parades, marches, music and fireworks in the evening.
I woke my brother up early so we could see the parade at 11 AM.
I really should have known myself better. I don’t like crowds, I don’t like being hemmed in by people, and I hate fighting for a place to see an event. I’m not even terribly interested in parades.
The vast majority of the streets around the Eiffel Tower area were blocked off, quartered away or outright closed. Several subway stations had the same issue, causing us to arrive on the wrong side of the river. My brother and I managed to shoulder our way to a few streets where French soldiers and performers walked in lockstep, chanting out French battle tunes. They looked utterly splendid in full regalia with blue uniforms, white pauldrons and cloud-like tufted feathers. Other soldiers hoisted guns, swords or walked without thin, elaborate rapiers. They were a sight to behold, but my brother and I quickly barreled away from the crowds and main streets in the hopes of more open settings.
We luckily got away from the crowds and found a tremendous little breakfast spot that was open and served amazing omelets. It was right peaceful for the first hour of our walk, since the roads remained closed and traffic was non-existent. The soft sounds of Paris, heard only in the absence of motors, wheels, horns and sirens, proved enormously fortifying.
Versailles
Afterwards, my brother and I boarded a train to head to the legendary Palace of Versailles.
When I was a wee lad, I would paly a game called Rise of Nations. It was a war-construct real-time-strategy sort of game following nations through their respective histories with a bunch of nice little nods to the great nations of human history.
One of the features of the game included special structures called “Wonders” which were influential buildings. Building them earned extra bonuses in the game. I’ve made it a sub-mission of mine to see all the wonders in the game that still exist in my lifetime. I’ve thus far visited the Terra Cotta Army, the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, the Space Center and several others. But I haven’t yet seen Versailles.
Which is a pity, because the Palace of Versailles deserves its own post.
The Gardens of Versailles
My brother and I opted to visit the gardens, which are simply enormous. Walking the gardens takes the better part of a day, and the design means explorers must double back frequently to see everything.
The upper platforms are covered in a gritty sort of sandy gravel which defines French walking paths. The interior sections are closely tended hedge-trees with wooden fencing preventing people from wandering off-trail. There are large, ornate spirals of colorful flowers blooming in every direction and an overlook to see the lower-garden area.
But that is nothing compared to the fountains. If there is anything the gardens are known for, it’s the vast and delicate display of fountains, each accented by either odd artwork or a figure straight out of Greek and Roman Antiquity. Bronze Apollo rides horses free from sprays of water. Ceres lounges within rows of perfectly etched grains. Flora is gilded with spots of color in another fountain, surrounded by cherubs. The dragon has his place, arched oddly to display all of his fine fangs. Neptune’s Fountain and the Mirror Pool host no figures, but instead play long marching tunes in tempo with dancing sprays of water. The Water Theatre Grove dances and spirals in modern golden pipes endlessly. Enceladus Grove shows a giant, profoundly enraged man struggling free from warmed boulders crushing him down. Everywhere there are additional smaller fountains, tall plants, shady pathways, green tunnels and countless marble statues.
Fighting for a Sighting
When my brother and I finally finished, we decided to return to Paris. Our last goal of our visit was to see the Bastille Day Fireworks which would highlight the Eiffel Tower at night.
We found a rather excellent ramen dinner and tried hiking towards the park where we would watch the show. Tried is the operative word. Though we started hiking about three hours before the show would start, security had already set up barricades throughout the city. There was basically no way through. Each time we came to such a roadblock, we would trying doubling back to a road further in. But again and again and again, the roadblocks foiled us and there was practically no way to punch through.
We did find a place near the river, but I was horrified by the sheer volume of the initial crowd, two hours before the start of the show. I had visions of being practically trapped once the show was over and convinced my brother that we should search elsewhere.
Luck proved to be on our side. As I continually redirected us to the West, we ended up on an unassuming corner, which happened to see the Eiffel Tower in the distance. We were the first ones to claim the spot, leaning on a traffic rail in anticipation for the show. The view was narrow, but not absolutely packed.
Riveting Fireworks
The night soon began to trickle away. To the best of my knowledge, the show was supposed to start at 10 PM, but fireworks didn’t begin until full darkness arrived much later. In the meantime, the Eiffel Tower put on its own light show with sparkles and the occasional glow of red, white and blue.
Finally, the show began, and explosions shot free from the lattice ironworks with startling light. The booms slammed back toward us in a rising tempo, their echoes finding hidden streets in Paris to bounce off of.
When the admittedly impressive show was over, my brother and I started walking home to the subway. We found ourselves at the Arc de Triomphe as we walked back. Every once in a while, we passed a street corner with a direct view of the Tower. Those spaces were so crammed with people, they created traffic jams extending miles into the city.
Veering Away
Delighted to escape the hoard, we hopped on our subway back home. But I mis-stepped rather badly.
Though I typed in our address correctly, and a map-marker appeared in our neighborhood, I didn’t type in our zone correctly. The subway deposited us in the wrong part of the city. My brother and I were forced to hoof it through the city streets until arriving home at one in the morning.
And so our time in Paris has ended. Tomorrow morning, we have a ride-share heading to Bordeaux. It will be my brother’s very last stop before flying home.
Then I’ll need to figure out what to do with myself.
So until then,
Best regards and excellent trails,
Old Sean
Written July 18th 2021
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