Paris, France

Less than 7 nights ago, I was an organized traveler.  Arrival to a lodging meant neat piles to help me get ready the next day. Something must have happened in Luzern because now, in less than 10 mins Mireille and I are masters of room trashing.  

 Like children, we test the beds, check out the bathroom and whatever complicated shower comes with, open our bags and plunder. It's a mess in here and I should be napping but I can't. 

 I'm in Paris. I was in the Alps. I've seen Rome. Floated in Venice. And there is still more! Are you kidding me?! I haven't pinched myself in a while. I will do that now.

Twenty five minutes later,  I'm in the Paris metro with three cohorts figuring out how to reach the Arc de Triomphe   So much for a nap.  I had packed a handy Paris map from home and in between snoozes - I  oriented myself with the metro.  Our centralized location made things super easy.  We were one stop away from Le Louvre, two stops from Notre Dame,  around the corner from the Seine, and surrounded by parks.  Where to begin? 

 I love city subways. I just love them. Paris is no different of a system to love - except that it is Paris.  My love grew exponentially when, 15 mins after our departure...  we start to  emerge to the upside down smile of the Arc de Triumph   No need to cross the street to get to it. No going around the block to find it. It was right there - In your face like Rome's heat.  We now darted up the remaining steps into the wet air and expressed our  joy.  This means we reverted to being 13.  Possible jumping may have occurred.  I deny all.

Paris Yellow Metro Subway Line Number 1, I love you.

Paris kissed our happy faces with a light drizzle and we galavanted down the Champs Elysées searching for an authentic eatery.  My mind wandered to Victorian times when horse drawn coaches paraded down this very path. How incredible to be here. 

Quaint, checkered table cloth, wine, cook named Lulu ( no lie) and the day's menu boasting escargot, gizzard salad, onion soup, homemade foie gras, homemade ice cream, and other delights told us we were where we needed to be.  Authentic, not pretentious, and what appeared to us as Parisiennes. Our waitress served us with a smile and we soaked up the humble setting.  Our table was small and at first we wondered if we would all fit with all our belongings .  This really means me and all my photography equipment including a full size tripod.  Amazingly enough, we managed and when the drinks came, we joyfully raised our wine-filled glasses and toasted 'to Paris'.  

There is no rush in Paris I soon came to see.  There is no need to hurry this way or that (unless you are aiming to catch the light show at the tower). When you finish your meal, no one is rushing you off to close your ticket. Sit a spell.  Talk with your companions,  look out the door and watch Paris pass you by.  An hour and a half later, we were still sitting there.  Talking, laughing, and far from worrying about being misunderstood.   With broken French and courtesy, we bridged gaps and felt a bit empowered with our ability to maneuver in the foreign land.  Those we asked for help were quick to assist (pulling out iPhones to show us on maps or walking us to necessary corners to point where to turn) and often, when we struggled with pronunciation, they didn't give up on our attempts.  Je ne sais pas why the French have such a negative reputation.

Our first night in Paris was wet and cold, but,  this wasn't going to stop this bunch.  I had photos to take, wine to drink, things to see and so, an impromptu umbrella had to be purchased  - not so much for me but for the camera equipment. Of course.   

Surprise of the night:  Riding on the train en route to the Tour Eiffel, we sit chatting and giggling over a ridiculous convo.  Suddenly, out of the darkness of the subterranean tunnel, there appears the amber-lit Eiffel Tower. I'm surprised there was any oxygen left in our train compartment after the four of us gasped in unison full of shock and joy.  All we could exclaim was ... Oh my god. Our fellow train passengers laughed and nodded at us as if to say, yes, you really are here girls.  It was magical. 

[Cue the unicorns and glittery pixie dust.]

It was well past 1am by the time I got back to the hotel from our arc and tower excursion. A minor miscalculation on which street to turn back to had  Luz and I around the block a few times (or a few different blocks for that matter) . But five hours of sleep was more than enough to start the day early yet again. 

Vanda was right, this hotel does indeed have the most comfortable beds and this may have been the reason I felt so rested the next day. Now, what was I saying?

Oh yeah, I was about to share Day 2 in Paris.  I have no earthly if it's Monday or Thursday at this point and so I am just calling it day x in such and such city.  I will figure out the derails eventually. 

We had a tour group outing to the tower today.  Yes, I know - I was just there last night.  But you see, the tower by day and the tower by night seem like two different places.  By night the lovebirds, the neon wizzy things that the vendors throw in the air and try to lure you with and serve no purpose are a-glow.  The line was shorter.  And it was cold.

By day- families, grandmothers, the wizzy things but lacking glowing luster,  gipsies, and more vendors  with miniature replicas of the tower  in pink, copper, silver, etc.  I should have purchased a pink one for cheesy value. Darn.  Instead, after taking my day shots and using the stairs to come down, I found an empty bench in the mall and said 'non, mercy' about 29 times to peddlers. 

I'm thinking they subscribe to the Amway sales approach: every no brings you closer to a yes. I hope I helped them along nicely.  

Anyway.....It was free museum day in Paris today and that meant - absolutely fantastic wanderings and the ability to drop into any museum without a worry.  Well, there was one worry, the size of the queue to get into the museums. Yeah, a tad large of a worry.   Fortunately, places like Le Louvre are big enough to accommodate the throngs of visitors and so a long queue was not felt.  

I would have wandered around the city all day except i had a box to buy and ship and had a BIG scheduled activity for the evening. Dinner and the show at THE Moulin Rouge!

Squeal. Clap. Smile.  

Think Vegas, but smaller. 
Think history, but with a soundtrack. 
Think birthplace of the can-can, my fave painter -  Henri  de Toulouse-Lautrec, and all things Belle Epoque and you have the Moulin Rouge and me ricocheting off the walls with giddy excitement. 
[Cue in the unicorn and pixie dust yet again.]

Let me just say it was phenomenal.  I wished their 'no cameras' policy was dead though.  I wonder if they would have approved if I would have said it was to capture the ghost of Henri having a drink at the bar with la Goulue? Probably not.