What a mission, getting from Reading to Paris. This was Day 2 of the big OE, Day 2 in a whole new country on the other side of the world. It started at not long after 3am when Barb took Pete, Boz and the kids to Luton airport, for their flight to Poland. Barb was due home around 6am, and we needed to leave the house no later than 7am to catch the Eurostar to Paris.
Suffice it to say, it was a close run thing, with a walk to Oxford Street, catching the bus to Reading train station (sharing our excitement about going to Paris TODAY! with the other commuters at the bus stop). Then buying tickets to London (LONDON!), and finding a train to catch. Watching the board noting when the next train was due wasn't much fun for a while, as we saw the 7.25am due at 7.27, then 7.29, then 7.45,... Luckily the 7.39 rescued us. As it was peak time, we found ourselves standing all the way in on the train to Paddington Station. This didn't stop us sharing our excitement with fellow passengers - a common theme to all our travel!
From Paddington Station overground to the underground, buying tube tickets, then to Baker Street, a change to St Pancras, then a walk to find the Eurostar. I can't emphasise enough the feeling of panic inherent in this journey - each stage was from the unknown to the unknown, the deadline was tight and we knew there was no space for mistakes! Huge relief all round when we found the waiting area for the Eurostar, and we did it with ten minutes to spare (or not much more)!
St Pancras station was amazing - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Pancras_railway_station - worth the stress just to see the station itself. Well, actually no. We were off to Paris! City of light! City of love! Gay Paree!
Just after lunch we arrived. The trip on the Eurostar was great - but nothing to write home about. Really. We just travelled through the English countryside, disappeared into a tunnel for a short while, then appeared in the French countryside. The first thing to hit me was that France looked different. In England, I felt like I was in a country not that far removed from New Zealand. France? Totally different. I'm not sure why.
So, alighting at the Gare du Nord, our first task was to figure out how to get tickets for the Metro (the Paris Underground). I offered to stand in line, feeling kind of confident. Even helped out some fellow travellers (not very well) with directions on how to get to the Eiffel Tower (my map was in English - made it much easier!). Arriving at the ticket terminal, I found my French desert me completely. Waving three fingers in the air and smiling a lot (feeling like a complete idiot), I obtained three day tickets for the Metro.
(I have to say that the reason I knew we needed tickets for the Metro was that I had developed a to-the-minute spreadsheet of how we would use our 8 and 1/2 hours in Paris. I sent this spreadsheet through to Barb and Paul with some trepidation, as my earlier effort to plan out the entire trip (using the wonders of Google and Excel) was met with a single comment... 'you are sucking the life out of our vacation'. The only comment I received for my Paris effort was that we were on the 9.32am Eurostar, not the 9am - with half an hour less in Paris, I removed all planned toilet and food stops. That made the spreadsheet work).
First stop was the Basilica du Sacre Coeur.
This involved finding the train from the Gare du Nord to Chateau Rouge. Exiting at Montmartre, we climbed our way past millions of hair salons (truly - this entire street was dedicated to hair braiding in all its shapes and forms!), through a rather rough area, to the steps to the Basilica. You don't get a fantastic view of Paris without making an effort. I didn't count the steps, but there were heaps and heaps, and it took us a while to labour to the top. Worth it though, worth every step. One interesting event took place as we arrived at the top. Several men were running through the crowd to the steps, carrying their wares slung in large squares of canvas. Apparently there had been word of the Police on their way, and they were exiting the area so they didn't get caught selling tat to the tourists.
Anyway, onwards and upwards... to the inside of the Basilica. A soaring roof, amazing effigies, gold statues, painted ceilings. The inside was cavernous, and filled with... wow. Breathtaking. No photos unfortunately, but the pictures in my head will stay with me forever. (That's if the vodka didn't rob me of them).
So, out the other side to the view over Paris.
At that stage I didn't know what all the buildings were, but was intrigued by what looked like... gold used as decoration on some buildings. It certainly whetted the appetite to see more, but we had a schedule to keep.Heading down the other side of the hill to Anvers Station, we passed a fantastical merry-go-round. I had to take a photo for Liliane, but will share it here...
After shopping our way down the hill (tons of souvenir shops - including one that sold Barb an All Blacks shirt for 10 euro), we found Anvers Station... it wasn't long then to reappear above ground at the Arc de Triumphe. I had been warned about French tourist spots - by that time I had seen two or three beggars, and noted the hordes of tourists at the Basilica du Sacre Coeur (why is it that the French language just sounds so pretty?) - so it wasn't a surprise to find hordes of tourists at the Arc de Triumphe.
A quick dive underneath proved that the queue we could see was to climb the edifice, and an even quicker decision was made... no time... no queue. I do have to mention the traffic at this point. A massive roundabout, hundreds of mad drivers all on the wrong side of the road (well, to me, anyway), I have no idea how anyone could negotiate that roundabout and keep their panels intact.Away then, down the Champs Elysees towards Le Louvre.
The aim (well, my aim) was to walk all the way to Notre Dame, but after a quick 'lunch' at a cafe (on Champs Elysees - say it aloud) we made it all the way to the Place de la Concorde in the Jardin des Tuileries. Stunning architecture all the way down the Champs Elysees, no shopping was undertaken (partly due to a fear that if the credit card emerged, it would be awfully hard to put away).
By the time we got to the Place de la Concorde I was over the noise. Paris, beautiful city, but the traffic!
Our final stop monumental stop in Paris was at Notre Dame. By this time, the feet were weary, the throats were dry and it was time to sit. So we did. Outside Notre Dame. For a good while.
Our day wasn't yet done, but it was time for a break.
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