Part 1 can be found
here.
We woke up to another dreary day but we didn't let it dampen our spirits as we headed out to explore the city.
Our hotel was in the Opera District, and after my husband had consulted a map we made our way through a warren of streets towards the Seine, admiring the different shops and cafes dotted around. There was even a man sitting outside one of the cafes, wearing a beret and drinking a glass of red wine. At 9am in the morning. No, I am not joking.
We found a
boulangerie near the Louvre where we purchased croissants and coffee for breakfast and went down to the banks of the river to eat them, admiring the view and trying to pretend that it wasn't raining. We then made our way across the Pont des Arts, a footbridge adorned with padlocks, down the road on the other side of the river, and across the Ile de la Cite until we reached Notre Dame. (Aargh, how do you add accents to letters on Blogger? Can't find a feature for it anywhere!)
The cathedral looked just as impressive as it had done when I was 13. With school we had only sailed past it on a boat trip down the Seine so this time I was determined to go inside and look around it properly. However the place was absolutely teeming with tourists. I guess like any major city in the world every season is peak season in Paris, so we shouldn't have been surprised! We joined the queue and eventually we were under the shelter of the grand stone walls. It was crammed with people inside, with more and more continuing to pour in, so that it was impossible to get close enough to anything, so we just strolled around gazing upwards. I often find in historical church buildings that my eyes are automatically drawn upwards anyway, and the ceilings and stained glass windows that you can see are usually the most impressive aspect, masterpieces of architecture and art that they are. Notre Dame is no exception to this rule. It is incredibly beautiful, and the windows, so full of vibrant colour, are of the most wonderful that I have ever seen. It was with some reluctance that we found ourselves back outside but neither of us are terribly at ease with large crowds. I would love to know a quieter time to go and visit it again in the future.
Outside there were even more tourists clamouring around the entrance, so we swiftly headed away towards the comparative tranquillity of the nearby
Shakespeare & Company bookshop, a must-see recommended by a friend. It is in a fabulous old building, packed floor to ceiling with books. Downstairs was mostly full of brand new volumes sitting smartly on shelves and tables, from bestselling novels to various academic fodder with intriguing titles. Upstairs felt more olde worlde with ancient books mixed in with more recent publications. Crumbling chairs and softs sofas are scattered about, some tucked in alcoves, all surrounded by books, where you are free to sit and read for minutes or hours as long as you put your chosen book back where you found it. Had I ever studied in Paris this would have easily become a favourite haunt of mine. I would have loved to have stayed all day, but with the equivalent of one full day only left in Paris I had to tear my eyes away from the enticing dusty tomes and continue exploring the city.
The rain had stopped so we kept walking through a mix of quiet, narrow streets and busy main roads teeming with terrifyingly fast cars. They say Britain has the safest roads in the world, which I never believe until I am abroad and crossing the road becomes a game of luck more than a something you should expect to be able to do safely. We soon found ourselves in what appeared to be a university district, judging by a massive bookshop and the little places selling cool geeky merchandise from Studio Ghibli accessories to busts of Star Wars characters. I was tempted to start my Christmas shopping but then remembered that our bags were already bursting to capacity, and that travelling to Amsterdam the next day with extra would be something of a nuisance. So instead we found a little cafe for a croque monsieur. Glorified cheese and ham toastie it may be but I've always wanted to try one, and very tasty it was too.
Then it was more walking. We walked and walked. Along main roads, down passageways, by the river, through parkland. The Eiffel Tower was slowly becoming more and more visible as the morning's fog continued to lift, and it made from some very nice photo opportunities.
By this point we had reached a land of subterranean intrigue that my husband was eager to explore - the Musee des Egouts de Paris - the Parisian Sewers. I know, we're in the alleged most romantic city in the world, and he takes me on a tour of the sewers. Well, we are nothing if not adventurous! And I have to admit that, smelly as they were, I learnt quite a lot down there. Not about poo -
ewww! - but about the history of Paris because there is a very good exhibition of how the city was formed and expanded over the centuries, and consequently how the water and sanitation systems have developed with technological advances from Roman rule through to modern times. I even learnt about the Great Flood of Paris in 1910, something I hadn't known about before. I should probably add that although this museum is above the modern sewer system, you are not actually having to wade through anything, or touch anything nasty. It's all clean and safe but it is a bit stinky in places!
After this we decided to continue our underground adventures by braving the Metro! The map was pretty easy to understand as each line had a number. Each line also has a colour, but a few of the colours are annoyingly similar, and without the numbers I would have got confused. The trains themselves were fine but I didn't like that we had to open the doors ourselves by bashing the handle. I prefer the automatic ones on the tube in London. It's like anything I suppose, you know what you're used to, and when you're faced with something different it always seems more intimidating than it actually is!
Anyway, we successfully made our way to Montparnasse where we intended to see the Catacombs. Unfortunately they were closed due to a ventilation problem, so we decided to go for a little walk. This was somewhat hindered by a very loud
Confederation Generale du Travail (General Confederation of Labour) protest march taking place. There was music, shouting, and people bearing bright yellow and red banners for miles down the road. We eventually found some sanctuary in the cemetery. Had it been snowing, and had the nearby protest not been taking place, it would have been highly reminiscent of the cemetery scene in
Phantom of the Opera. There were a vast number of mauseolea and elegant looking tombs packed closely together, bunches of flowers laid at various spots in memory of loved ones, a little spot of tranquillity away from the hustle and bustle of the city outside.
We took the Metro back across the city as the daylight was beginning to fade, and walked more, stopping to admire churches and grand buildings, window shopping, and people watching. Before too long it was time for dinner. We made our way back to Shakespeare & Company, as round the corner was a little restaurant called Le Ribouldingue, serving traditional French cuisine. My husband had chosen it thanks to an avid search on his mobile for Parisian restaurants serving offal.
The restaurant was small and cosy with a lovely intimate feel, although the very "Frenchness" of the place made us both a little scared. The waitress was incredibly helpful, explaining the menu to us in good English, although I think she was nervous that we may not have entirely understood what the 'specials' were referring to and that we could be in for a shock.
In the end I settled for the butternut squash soup, followed by the duck confit, followed by a chocolate and coffee pudding. My husband is the one who went for the offal, starting with lamb's testicles, followed by veal brain, but finishing with cheese. We also ordered a carafe of wine. Once we had chosen and sat back in our seats both we and the waitress began to relax. We might have been British tourists with a minimal knowledge of French, but we had gone to the restaurant with intention. And once my husband and I were both comfortable with our food choices and had taken a few sips of wine, we didn't feel so odd in the surroundings anymore.
The meal itself was absolutely delicious. I thoroughly enjoyed all of it, and the duck confit knocked the one from the previous evening out of the water. This was French cooking at it's finest (in my limited experience, although the restaurant does have very good reviews online). My husband also enjoyed his and assured me that it was exquisite. I tried the cheese but I was not brave enough to try the offal. He, on the other hand, is a self-proclaimed foodie, and therefore this was apparently an important step in his tasting adventures that he must take, and thankfully he liked it!
After so fine a dinner, feeling merry with wine, we happily walked back to our hotel in the now torrential rain. I was on map reading duty and I am very pleased to say that despite my tipsyness I did not get us lost, hurrah!
We collapsed into bed, feeling as though we had now conquered the city. We were much less scared of everything, felt like we knew which direction was what, and were content that we had seen and tasted some very interesting things!
Photos my own.
