Boatgirl #7: To Paris - Paris, France

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February 26, 2002

We arrived in Paris yesterday from Amsterdam. We made it on to the train a minute before the doors closed, and a father and daughter jumped on just behind us. They turned to us and asked, "Is this train going to Den Haag?" (The Hague). We replied that, as far as we knew, it was stopping only in Antwerp, Brussels and Paris. They froze and looked at us in horror, then the doors slid closed and the train began to crawl forward. They pressed the open button in vain, and banged on the windows, panicking. Darin pointed out the conductor at the other end of the car, and they ran off.

We found our seats, and Darin went to find the bar. He came back and said that the train stopped at Schiphol airport, so they were getting off there. I suddenly realized that in a uncharacteristic burst of organization, I had bought postcards, written them and actually put stamps on them. I don't think I've ever mailed a postcard from the country I bought them in; I usually end up mailing them once I get home. So, I had these damn postcards ready to go in my bag, and we were leaving for France. We decided to ask the father and daughter to mail them for us from The Hague, and they kindly agreed. I'm very curious to see if they arrive, it will score a point for the kindness of strangers.

That night, we met Darin's friend Pascal for dinner and he took us out to Montreuil, a neighborhood that he grew up in and where no tourists ever go. We ate in a Turkish restaurant, and he told us all about growing up there and how his family used to collect snails for escargot when it rained. Then we went back to the hotel and slept until noon. We hadn't slept much in Amsterdam. Our first hotel room was above a night club, the next locked us out, and then we had to wake up early for the train.

We just had lunch at Angelina, across from the Jardins des Tuileries. Their specialty is hot chocolate, Chocolat Africain, thick and bittersweet, with a bowl of whipped cream on the side.

Then Darin went to work, and I waddled around Paris slightly tipsy. Too drunk and too late in the day for the Louvre, so I got on the Metro for Pere Lachaise Cemetery, and almost dozed off before the right stop. Got thrown out of there before I found Edith Piaf or Jim Morrison's grave. We don't seem to be able to wake up early enough for efficient tourism, but I'm having a great time.

February 27

Last night we had dinner in an Italian restaurant (does anyone in France still eat French food?) with Darin's friends. It was nice, but I'm reaching a point where I can't concentrate through the wine haze to translate machine-gun fire Parisian French. They love to gossip, and their descriptions of Darin's friends they'd met already (Lizzie, they think you're tres belle) made me wonder what they would say about me. ("Your friend's nice, but has she always been mute?")

I went to the Louvre today. I was afraid I'd be disappointed, but it's an amazing museum. Their collections blow away the most impressive I've seen in England and the U.S. Their Italian paintings are so bright and well-preserved. I don't understand all the fuss over La Gioconda, the Mona Lisa. It's a lovely painting, but...

My favorite part of the museum is the medieval foundations. Pascal had tried to explain how cool the moat was, but I didn't really understand what he meant. Inside the main structure, they have uncovered the original walls within the modern building. So, part of the first floor is the outside of the old battlements. You can walk around in what was the moat, which now has a roof over it, and in a room with the original columns. It's kind of creepy, actually.

The museum is huge, and I couldn't manage it all in one day. I highly recommend getting the audio tour on CD, as all the descriptions are in French. Also recommended: sitting in the Cafe overlooking the courtyard and watching the rain.


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