1. I wanted to hang out with my cool Quebec friend
2. It is a reasonably easy trip from northern Spain
3. Certain French-speaking LMU friends would slap me if I didn't go (on their behalf)
4. I'm just plain in love with travel and curious in general.
I thought Paris would be interesting, fun for crazily-excited Catherine, and downright A.O.K.
NOT SO.
The combination of traveling with company (something new for overly independent Heather), the sheer ease of traveling in a city built on tourism, and the good luck of witnessing precious moments in the already luxurious Paris all combined to make this my favorite trip outside Donostia (nothing can beat SanSe. nothing.).
First of all, the Eiffel Tower is ugly. Don´t deny it. Big and impressive, certainly, but brown, and webbed, and awkward like that one hair you just can´t comb down. But it was transformed as night. I remember crossing a bridge on the River Seine when it appeared above some marble buildings in front of us, defying the blue of the sky with gold lights. We highfived, feeling very touristy, and went to relax at a patch of grass near its base, talking about God and fair trade and men. Then it began to sparkle. I didn't know they'd made it into a light show, so I let out a gasp when all the hundreds of lights started blinking. Then came the cool part. The choir. From our place on the grasp near one of the legs of the tower, we heard sweet harmonies drifting from the center. The singing was obviously a huge choir of men and women, and I was so attracted to the noise that we made our way to the center to see what was happening. A group from a Protestant church near by had gathered to praise God simply by singing under the Eiffel Tower at night. Their songs included Awesome God and How Great Thou Art, but in French. I made Catherine laugh when I started singing along. And, of course, I stared up at the tower from its underbelly, imagining the structure itself was singing. Surreal.
Something that made even the most mediocre moments special was Catherine's constant pauses for camera shots. Her attention to detail made me look at everything more closely, and thus made the trip more enjoyable.
Not that I needed to see the small details to enjoy it. Most thing
s were quite obvious. The Louvre, for instance. I've never enjoyed museums, least of all of art. But this was ridiculous. The Mona Lisa sits mounted in a special glass frame on its own huge wall springing out of the middle of a side room. She is the queen of the art world, and although on first glance she may not be anything special, the circumstances make her, as I heard a British guy explaining to his wife, "the most iconic painting of our time." Catherine and I stared at her for a few minutes, then decided it was time to see the other 30,000 works the Napoleonic-castle-turned-art-museum features. I suddenly came to love art. Specifically Renaissance paintings, and a new French portraiter whose name I can't remember, but whose paintings stick out to me because they all contained redheads. We spent 8 hours in the Louvre, missing Saint-Chappelle and the Conciergerie to see more art. Oh, did I mention we got in FREE to see these priceless masterpieces with out Deusto student IDs?Catherine and I stayed for free 15 minutes outside Paris in the relaxed train town Chatou, with her warm-hearted Uncle Benoit, who gave us baguette for breakfast every morning, and showed us all the shows he's working on as an actor, choreographer, and specialist in body language. The overall attitude I experienced towards estadounidenses (Americans) was like a fuzzy intrigue...I was a cute zoo animal to them, and though I got the feeling they looked down on my lack of French and sneaker wearing, they still got wide-eyed and smiley when I told them where I was from.
We wandered through Notre Dame, the namesake cathedral of one of my favorite US universities, highlighted by stained glass windows and gargoyles. We got lost in a hallway, the Hall of Mirrors in the palace of Versailles, which we paid 25 euro to see (never again), and th
en figured out we might have used our student IDs like at the Louvre. Versailles also boasts the Domain of Marie Antoinette, a quaint collection of cottages, vineyards, and windmills all surrounding the queen's retreat house in the center. Very cute despite the fact that it was raining and we were without paraguas. The greenery made Catherine continually sigh for Quebec.I "did it" at the Moulin Rouge
Benoit and his girlfriend Sarah also took us on a tour of Montmarte, the famous artist's corner of Paris, where portrait painters line the square and capture your face on canvas for a reasonable price. At the foot of this "Mont" is the "red light district," which we HAD to see, for one sight: the Moulin Rouge. There was a vent in front of the famous windmill letting out the wind from the metro; if you stood on the vent in front of the windmill it made a perfect "windy" picture. I also took another VERY important video there. Self-explanatory. When I finished the phrase, a French woman passed with a very polite, "No, merci." Made the embarassment totally worth it.
Out with a Bang
We ended our trip on a Monday night at the Arc d' Triumph. I did feel a little teary-eyed leaving it, and Paris, forever. It was more than the end of an amazing time. This being my last major trip for the semester (until mom comes, of course), I knew it signified the end of the Indiana Jones era, and the beginning of the goodbye-transition era, which is never easy. It was, however, fitting that our last site was the Arc. We went out with triumph...with victory...and I feel the same way about Spain. However sad, I am triumphant
! What a great word.the pang of sadness at the arc: leaving spain, but victorious!
Je coucherais avec toi tous le soir...
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