Perusing Paris

A little back-note about Rotterdam. In our hostel, everything from bathroom lights to hallway lights were motion-activated. As I walked through raised walkways that connected the upper levels, lights turning on with my every step, I felt like a purposeful member of some starship crew.

And so the epic journey to Nice. We did so much train-hopping it was more like permanent floating. When I ordered some food during a change in Lille, for the first time in weeks I was able to do it in a different language, using more than nouns and numbers and pointing. I could conjugate verbs again!

When we finally made it to Paris we had no problem acquiring the tickets to Nice that had been so elusive in the Netherlands, and we found ourselves with eight hours to adventure. We dropped off our bags in storage; I changed to ‘look more French,’ and we set out to hit as many major sights as possible. Since the city was so overrun with people we opted for the ‘look, there’s that, take a picture’ approach, rather than spending hours in line to go inside one or two sights. Our first pause was Notre-Dame, and Brendan began to understand the scale of things in store. We walked along the interminable exterior of the Louvre and continued through the Tuilleries gardens. It was a hot and dusty day, and soon my black shoes were the color of the sandy paths. We stopped for some overpriced but quenching soft-serve near the obelisk, and again I missed gelato (how much more do I miss it now!). We could see the Arc de Triomf in the distance, but it is so huge that it would be our donkey’s taunting carrot for quite a while. I stopped for a ham and cheese crepe from a street vendor. When in France… . Eons later, after stopping in a store or two on the Champs-Elysees and watching an impressive street performer, we made it to the Arc. There I saw ‘Miranda,’ the last name of a distant relative, engraved on one of its faces. There seemed to be some kind of military remembrance or celebration underway, and as old men marched towards us, we marched on toward the rest of Paris. Our next intended destination was the Eiffel Tower, but we inadvertently spent the next hour making a large circle around the Arc, before we looked at a map and figured it out. You’d think a landmark that huge shouldn’t be hard to find. Eventually we made it, and took pictures and composed postcards. We saw the dome of Invalides in the distance, and it came time to start heading back. We stopped into a mini-mart to get some snacks for the ride, and I got to use my French to ask where the nearest Metro entrance was. Success! We took the eight to République, to take the five to our station, Gare Austerlitz. Easy. Too easy. We hopped on the five and started moving just as I realized we were going the wrong way. Oops. The rest was uneventful, and we joined our unexpected Texan companions in our sleep cabin on the train.

I woke up around 730 and was itching to see the famous South of France countryside, but with the shade down and everyone fast asleep, I would have to look elsewhere. I went outside to the corridor and marveled. It felt like the first time the train window showed me something truly unique and unfamiliar. The brush was different, and at times I felt like I was in a painting. The light was soft and diffused, and in the distance there were rolling green mountains. Once our companions woke up I raised the blind in our cabin, and light flooded in. Picturesque red-tile roofed buildings zipped by, and palm trees waved a frondy hello. Suddenly the ocean appeared. It was almost like being back in Cinque Terre. Already I knew that Nice would be the place for me. Already I wished I had more time to spend exploring this region.