Paris Diary: What To Remember On A Four-Day Stay

Barbara: Well, we did it! We went to Paris for what was essentially four days of fun—because the last day was pure travel—and we proved (I think) that it can be done.

I don’t know about you, but I never would have imagined it worthwhile to go to Europe from North America for such a short stay. I mean, there’s the jet-lag, the seeming lack of enough quality time, the possible travel anxiety (why do we get more anxious when we’re traveling to Europe than, say, to the next county?), and the, did I mention this already?, jet-lag!

I’ve always been affected by travel, really feeling the time difference and any lack of sleep. But this time, there must’ve been a major attitude shift because I really felt great. I tried—and succeeded—to sleep on the plane over. To do this, I had a glass of wine with my meal, didn’t eat too much, didn't wake up for "breakfast", and wore a sleep-mask. I got about 3½ hours of sleep, which I consider triumphant. Then I got another 2 hours in the hotel (if you can’t check in early, try having lunch first, then check in and have a later nap. Should work.) I stayed up pretty late (1:30-2:30am) every night and got up around 9am (most things don’t open until 10 or 11 anyway). Walking around outside most of the day helps adjust you—even though there wasn’t much sun when we went. To prepare for the homecoming, I stayed up late and got up early for our flight, which made me nice and sleepy. This way I could sleep on the plane for a couple of hours (afternoon nap) and was able to stay up back at home the first night until 11pm. Believe it or not, I managed to stay in bed until 7am EST! I have my mother here for the weekend, so I plan on doing a lot of outdoor walking back here—which will hopefully help adjust again. I think the occasional nap might be beneficial too.

Ah, what more to say about Paris?

Well, first off, I have to say that I have always naively believed Europeans to be very fluent in English. Not so (necessarily). In fact, I met some who couldn’t speak or understand a word. It’s a mistake to assume that these countries/cities revolve around tourism and so everyone will accommodate a lack of fluency. It’s true that many people DO speak English (and all the main tourist attractions will have material in English), but don’t believe that people are rude or uncaring if they don’t or can’t communicate with you. I think it’s up to you to make sure you remember you’re a visitor in someone else’s home—and they might not have made the bed up for you. People will be as nice, kind, sweet and/or helpful as the individual inherently is (and will also reflect back to you what you might be conveying to them). A great example: a friend wanted directions in Paris recently and approached a police officer. The friend asked for the directions, the police officer said, “Bonjour.” The friend repeated the request for directions, the P.O. said, “Bonjour.” This went back and forth in the same way a few times until the friend finally realized that the P.O. was insisting on a simple greeting of “Bonjour” first. Cheeky? Yes. Point taken? Also, yes.

Yes, the waiters here are known for their snark and ‘tude (which I believe they nurture), but, man, did we have fun with them.

Taxis and subways are very handy and not very expensive. A cab from the airport to the city is the highest cost—50Euros. But your other option is the Cars Air France—a clean bus that stops at every terminal in both airports and takes you to two central locations in the city for 28Euros round-trip. The subway and inner-city cabs are well organized. If you want to take a cab, 17Euros will get you pretty much everywhere. Keep in mind that, if you do choose to cab-it, you should wait at a taxi stand where they come every few minutes. If you order a cab, you will automatically pay 10Euros more! In the subways, please stay aware of which stop, direction, and exit you want. When you get off the subway, there is a very convoluted but well-marked exit system in the labyrinthine tunnels under the city. Watch where you’re going. And watch for pickpockets.

Yes, restaurants and cafés can be expensive. But keep in mind that the $8 coffee is delicious and also buys you as much time as you want on that café terrace. They will never ever clear your dishes until you leave, allowing you to linger—and people-watch—as long as you want. Wine, however, is comparatively cheap everywhere.

How to eat cheaply in Paris? Buy food and wine at one of the ubiquitous markets or grocery stores and bring it to a park or square and eat and drink openly. Also, food other than French is often way cheaper (must be the expensive ingredients—all that butter…). However, portions are enormous!

Your hotel may not have free wifi, and may charge a fortune for it. But most cafés—even the old-school kind—offer it, fyi. If you want to ask for it in French, it’s pronounced “wee-fee”. Not kidding. Then ask for the password. And here's a link for cheaper accommodations in Paris (thanks, Tannis!).

Stefanie pointed out that it is usual for Parisians to openly stare at you. This isn’t (necessarily) lascivious. I mean, don’t expect them to openly stare at you, or be insulted if they don’t (like here, people are also plenty preoccupied), but if you meet their unwavering gaze, or if you are “caught” staring openly at them, it’s not considered rude. In fact, embrace it as your one chance to truly and effectively “people watch”.

The funniest example of this happened one night when we were on the subway going home and a group of drunken Spanish teenagers piled on. They were all dressed up for Halloween and basically sang and danced in the middle of the car while everyone either smiled or rolled their eyes. An older woman sitting nearest to them was looking them up and down intently, eyeing their outfits, and finally (unable, I guess, to resist) reached her hand out and touched one girl’s dress, openly feeling the texture of the fake blood spatters. When she was satisfied, she pulled her hand back and went back to staring idly out the window.

Traveler’s stomach can get you anywhere, even in Paris. We didn’t suffer from it, but Stefanie has. This could be due to anything from food poisoning to the different bacteria in the water and food to germs from the plane trip over. Buy digestible Peppermint Oil at a health food store and take it twice a day according to instructions (or if you feel unwell). It is absolutely miraculous—if you are a bit nauseous, I swear you will feel better in about 10minutes!

Lineups at the galleries go quite fast.

Parisians support their arts!

Bring a rain hat (fedora or something), which is easier and more convenient than an umbrella if it’s rainy.

Your hair in Paris? Uh, my hair is the bane of my wannabe well-styled existence. I have made some kind of peace with it in Toronto. Most places I go have softer water—and while it’s better for my hair and skin, usually I hate the greasy, flat, sad, limp results. Paris? Wow! I washed and blow-dried only and suddenly there was all this body and hold. Felt like a frickin’ Breck girl, I did. Paris is my hair’s new BFF.

Reminder tip (also applies to your hotel room floors): main floors here are “0”, next floor up is “1”, next up is “2”, and so on. Looking for the ground floor on the elevator buttons? Press “0”.

Paris is absolutely a romantic, sexy, stylin’, lovely, magical city. Drink it in. Don’t judge it by some other standard. It is completely itself. It doesn’t give a shit what you think, but it will draw the hem of its silky lingerie seductively upward and show you as much as it thinks you can handle. Succumb. You won’t regret it.

Rain hat in action.

Amongst the old buildings, this re-imagined approach. Love it or hate it, it is unique and audacious. 

Rental electric cars! Red light, still charging, green light, ready to use. Like the VeLib'--very cheap rental bikes available throughout the city--these are alternative travel options. Ingenious.

Old square, new sport.

Just like it.

We didn't go in, but man, were we charmed!

Random art installation

Posted so you can memorize this butter (the round capsule in the middle). It comes with most bread baskets in Paris. This butter is the most sublime dairy product ever produced by man.

Romantic! Happy.

And one more thing: it may seem decadent to go to Paris for only a few days (it certainly did to me), but in the end, you're actually saving a lot of money on hotels and restaurants. In fact, it might be more frugal than you realize. Permission granted. 
xo

PS Love and thanks to a very accommodating Phil who took most of these shots. And all with his iPhone!

Paris Diary: Day Four

Barbara: Well, today we hit a few itinerary hiccups. First we went to the Hotel de Ville museum to see the much-hyped new “Paris through Hollywood” exhibit. But the lineup was at least an hour long. Since the Centre Pompidou was so close (and really top of my list this time to see), we shrugged that hiccup off and headed over. Check your schedules, people! Centre Pompidou: closed on Tuesdays! Disappointed, we regrouped quickly and realized there was one more exhibit that was also on the top of our list: the Van Gogh at the Pinacoteque.

The fountain outside Centre George Pompidou. I forgot to "do my lips".

It's closed!

Hotel de Ville

We took our time getting there as we ambled around the Opera district, admiring the gorgeous Opera House, wide bustling streets, and the impressive Eglise de la Madeleine.

And then food, of course! Stefanie led us away from the pricey restaurants that line these streets and into a square off the beaten track: Place St. Honoré. This quiet square was filled with nice shops and restaurants and we loved the look and menu of the adorable Le Pain Quotidien. Mostly organic, not too expensive (by Paris standards), and cute outdoor, heated patio. We enjoyed huge plates of clean, lighter food, me digging into an enormous veggie platter.

Shops in Place St. Honoré. Why all the American in Paris? Well, Stefanie needed a new pair of hose and this was the first source we found; and there might be a prezzie for another daughter in here somewhere....

Stefanie noted that one of the nicest things about living in Paris is the sense of “ease” she feels the people here embody. One doesn’t rush through things here. “Ou est le feu?” (Where’s the fire?”) is a favourite retort if you’re flustered and fumbling and rushing. It’s a genial reminder that you don’t have to do everything at once or at high speed. Take your time; relax! She really noticed the difference between this slower, more relaxed pace and (her sense of) the North American (or specifically, Torontonian) attitude to get there and do it faster, faster, FASTER. It reminds me of the famous quote: “Americans live to work; the French work to live.” No wonder so many people linger on patios and over meals. Where is the fire, after all?

Phil kept begging Stefanie and I to "Slow down!"-- we are very fast walkers. Stefanie, frustrated with the slow pace, finally resorted to dragging her dad (pictured here). Now he has the perfect response for her: "Ou est le feu?!"

After our delicious lunch, we headed over to the Pinacoteque gallery. They were featuring an exhibit that juxtaposed Van Gogh’s later work with the works of Japanese artist Hiroshige. Not having studied art, I was fascinated to learn that Van Gogh was greatly influenced by the ukiyo-e (or “floating world”) approach, the lines and perspectives of these illustrations, the singular eye. I knew that I loved Van Gogh’s art, but it’s always exciting to learn something new about a favourite artist, opening up my view into their inspirations and process.

After the gallery, it was time for another outdoor chocolat and people-watching (your feet do get very tired from all the walking—breaks are a must!).

Then we made our way to the Latin Quarters for the piano recital in the church. But first aperos: a glass of champagne (for the girls) and beer (for Phil) and a platter of charcuterie to tide us over. Stefanie led us to La Palette, another off-the-beaten-track-but-known-to-Parisians treasure. 

The church that hosts the nightly concerts (piano, opera, etc) is the Eglise St. Julien-le-Pauvre (St. Julien the poor) and it was first built on this very site in the 6^th century! Since then it has been rebuilt a few times, but the deep sense of history is profoundly there still. Inside is dark and quiet, somber and peaceful. The rhythms of the piano concerto as it takes place, flickering lights of candles in the outside aisles, intent raptness of the (mostly French) audience, makes this experience utterly moving. Definitely worth discovering.

This photo is from the night we went but decided to wait till tonight and the Chopin recital.

Before the seats filled and the lights were dimmed.

The concert finished at 9:30pm, giving us a half hour to make our 10pm reservation at Chez Paul, the classic French bistro back in Stefanie’s ‘hood. Like most of the places we’ve been to on this trip, the building and its décor date back generations, instantly immersing you in an authentic time-capsule of the evolving life of this city.

People say we "laugh the same". I think this photo is irrefutable evidence that
Stefanie's laugh is waaaaaaay more elegant!

At midnight—after escargots, steak au poivre, and profiteroles—we said a sad (and long—I didn’t want to leave her!) farewell to Stefanie and made our way back to the hotel. 

I said we were here for five days, but the truth is tomorrow is our trip home and not a day for traipsing and eating and café-sitting. Domage. So tomorrow I’m going to share with you a few of the Paris tricks and insights I managed to cull during out wonderful trip!

A bientot!