First full day in Paris

Sunday, 11-Sept. We woke up in Paris today.

Our hotel offers a 14€ a person breakfast, but we’ll pass. First, that’s kind of pricey just for a croissant and coffee. (Yeah, the whole big, American breakfast spread is not common. Hence, the term continental.) Second, we’re going to try the neighborhood boulangeries. 

How do you find them? Just ask the French people walking with multiple baguettes and a box of pastries. Or follow your nose—because the customers’ lines go out the open doors, you can’t help but catch the whiff of croissants and espresso.

Another benefit of not being in a tourist zone is seeing locals start their day. That means walking their dogs.

There is an agenda for the next seven days. However, I tried not to plan more than two events a day. While we may be past the bulk of the summer tourists, there are still plenty of visitors from within and outside France. We still have to factor time waiting with crowds.

Today’s objective was the Rodin Museum, dedicated to sculptor Auguste Rodín. Every artist has their greatest hits. You’re probably familiar with these (The Thinker, The Kiss):

Ever read Dante Alighieri’s poem Divine Comedy? Whether you did or not, you are probably well versed in the themes of Inferno. Its the model of almost all Western visions of what happens to a life not well lived. Anyway, Rodin’s other masterpiece, The Gates of Hell, was inspired by that Italian allegory. 

OK, moving on… 

A lot of us, being suburbanites, don’t have a lot experience with mass transit. When you are visiting Paris, get a Navigo card. It covers the city buses, the Metro subway, and the area trains. 

Once you get your Navigo blue card of freedom, you get to experience one of the oldest and busiest subways in the world. 

However, this is the real fun. Fortunately, we can afford to wait for trains that have breathing room. 

What’s a mall doing in a metro station? Yes, there is a staple of American suburban life smack dab in the middle of Paris. Of course, most of it is underground—yet, once in, you’d never know it.

Eventually, one must do some shopping that is not about souvenirs. Get the local experience at the supermarket. Pretty normal, except they sell milk and eggs at room temperature. 

Everyone has heard the idiom, “best thing since sliced bread”, right? At least the French give us our due (zoom into the printing on the bag): 

Get us to Paris STAT!

Saturday, 10-Sept. We decided to do something exotic this morning: wake up early to get to the Aix TGV rail station on time. Destination? Paris.

I must give respect to Andrea. One of the results of missing our original train out of Barcelona was losing the reserved car rental in Aix. Next, a comedy of my errors meant that Andrea would be our registered driver on the new rental. Nonetheless, she did great getting us to the coast, the hills, and most importantly, the Tic Tac-sized streets and parking lots.

Thankfully, the French drive on the correct side of the road—the right 😜—and most rules, lights, and road markings are similar. Note I said “most”, not “all”.

For example, they don’t allow turning right after stopping at a red light. Also, unlike most of the US, they use roundabouts a lot more. (Andrea disliked the one roundabout by our home in Bedford. Well… it was kind of like immersion therapy for her.)

Anyway, here’s a French traffic sign quiz.

As I mentioned previously, the TGV is really cool. Smooth ride at 200 mph with great views.

With just a few stops, the 400 mile journey between Aix and Paris took about 3.5 hours. Our arrival in Paris was at the Lyon station. Yeah, it is a little busy. (Andrea has the orange backpack.) And noisy. And disorienting.

Like a wizard that appears in a thick forest to guide a band of hobbits on a quest, Nora’s boyfriend, Daniel, met us at the station.  

NOTE: Do not overpack. The three of us (Andrea, Sandra, myself), collectively had 2 large, 2 medium, 1 small, and 3 carry-on pieces. That meant we had to use SUVs or vans to schlep our gear. Europe is not Mars; it has washaterias, laundromats, and supermarkets that sell soap.

With fluency of tongue and culture, Daniel wheeled and dealed with the taxi cartel like a rug merchant in a Moroccan bazaar. He got us in a vehicle big enough for us, our stuff, and himself pretty quickly for the ride to the hotel.

Our home base for Paris is the Grand Hotel Dore, not far from the Lyon station in the 12th arrondissement. I wanted to be close to a metro station, with a short ride (~15-20 min) to most interesting sites, in a neighborhood with regular Parisians. 

With a grey sky, wet sidewalks, and cool air, the location was a postcard. 

Specifically, the area we called “our neighborhood” was half a block from Place Félix Eboué fountain with its spitting lions.

Prayers were answered when the best boulangerie (bakery) was discovered just a few doors down. We lucked out. With our middle class budget, we landed a hotel next door to an establishment focused on the ritzy, aristocratic set. Really, with a name like…

One decision I made that worked better than expected was reserving a cruise on the Seine River for the evening we arrived. Why? Many river cruises start near the Eiffel Tower.

See, the Tower, the singular symbol of the city, is sort of isolated from the major attractions. Thus, to get to our cruise we had to take a Metro ride across the center of the city. For us, that meant riding through 19 stops…an initiation, a deep sampling of Paris humanity.

When we exit our intended station, it was a short walk until we could take this selfie. 

Soon we take the steps down from the street to the banks of the Seine where the tour boat awaits. For an hour, we travel east, up river to view Notre Dame, the Louvre Museum, and other landmarks. 

Even the bridges that we pass under are remarkable.

As the sun continued to set, it wasn’t long before we saw the following:

Yes, we’re in Paris. 

A town that can walk the talk

Friday, 9-Sept. A lot of things in this life get rated and ranked. Frequently, reputations are overrated. Then, inevitably, the actual experience is disappointing.

Fortunately, the village of Lourmarin is the real deal. Over and over, this town was rated as one of the best hilltop hamlets. Again. And again. 

First, there’s the scenic drive through the hills north of Aix. 

Cruise past vineyards that look like screensavers.

Next, the castle Château de Lourmarin greets you just outside the village. 

Take the back path or go up some well-worn steps…

And you arrive at a garden pond with huge koi. (How the hawks and eagles haven’t “visited” that water beats me.)

Finally, the village itself. 

Inside joke. Andrea’s family nickname is “bird” or “birdie”. Translate the sign.

Now, of course, every town has a functional, less photogenic part of it. Sure. Or that not all the residents there exist to make your stay magical. Got it. Yes, yes, no place is perfect.

I mean, here is a fountain with three heads vomiting. 

Actually, the “vomit” coming out of the three heads is just evidence of hard water minerals covered in moss. It looks charming in the spring, I’m told.

Nonetheless, the illusion is so thorough, you don’t care where the waste treatment plant and landfill are. 

Romans and randomness

Thursday, 8-Sept. Old cities are relative. In America, we think Santa Fe, NM or Boston, MA are old. In Europe, our “olds” are pretty young compared to Medieval towns.

So what is an old city in Europe? Arles, France. It is Roman old. Let the photos do the talking.

Pictures above are of the arena (top 4) and the amphitheater (bottom 3). Both are still used today.

This town is also known for famous artists (Réattu, Gauguin, Picasso) who lived here. Not so fun fact, this is where Vincent Van Gogh had a mental breakdown and cut off his ear. 

Arles’ old town streets had a rustic village feel…

…which are plenty big if these are your wheels.

While the Rhône River and the Roman bathhouse are also points of interest, Mabel found some water more to her liking. 

Tonight, when we got back to the Aix apartment, it didn’t take long to figure out on French tv that Queen Elizabeth has passed.