It isn’t easy conjuring up day two now that I’m back at home in the US. What I do remember is that we left our hotel around 10am and didn’t return until 10:30pm, with every bone in our bodies aching from walking and all of the activity. We really did try to wring out every bit of fun we possibly could, even if fun for an eleven year old is very different than fun for a 44 year-old (or am I forty-five? I can’t even remember anymore, I feel 38).
The second day we were determined to get up inside the Eiffel Tower. Well, Emma was – I haplessly tagged along, playing the role of what would ordinarily be the good time father type. Me, I’m not so into taking cramped elevators to the top of anything – I am afraid of heights, for one thing. I hate crowds and I am not big on touristy things either. But if you take a kid to Paris, by God, you’ll do the touristy things. I was trying to make it as fun as possible for her knowing that hanging around with the person she spends most of her time with isn’t going to be that fun — and we had our spats, believe me. I kind of ran it the way I’ve run her entire life – helping her build lasting memories, even if she hates it a bit along the way.
We woke up as early as possible, showered in our tiny little shower with the broken glass door (nice and hot at the Hotel Fondary, however, and lest we forget the free wi-fi). We went down to the lobby in hopes of seeing our little friend the cat who lives at the hotel. He’s a furry calico and very affectionate. We nicknamed him “other kitty” because Emma and I spend much of our time talking about our cats — it’s just the one thing we talk about more than anything else. Other Kitty was a nice substitute since our two darling ones were at home still.
We skipped the hotel breakfast — which is 9 euros for bread and coffee — and went to the bakery down the block. Coffee, hot chocolate and two croissants ended up at less than 10 euros. A better deal for sure, better food and probably better coffee, although it’s tough to find a bad cup of coffee in Paris. Or anywhere in Italy, for that matter.
Tipping was a problem for me in France. Sometimes it’s included, other times it isn’t. I think I wasted money tipping people because I wasn’t sure. And they’re not going to turn down the money either, especially not from an American. Paris is beautiful and rich with art and culture but I think, in general, the people kind of fit the stereotype of the rude Parisian.
After our delicious breakfast we headed down what would become our usual walk to the Eiffel tower. Walking in that cool, clean air on a spectacularly clear day was, I hear, an exceptional way to see Paris, which tends to be cloudy and rainy much of the time. It was one of the best feelings, to feel that clean air and walk on those streets. Nothing opens that early, weirdly enough. After lunch is when all of the shops open – I guess Paris is much more of a nighttime city.
Once we got to the Eiffel tower we saw that it was as crowded as it always is. We decided to get in line and take our chances. Unfortunately for Emma, they closed the top level due to overcrowding. We waited for an hour to get to the front of the line and were to take the the “lift” up to the second level – after that we were allowed to buy tickets to the top floor if we wanted, another hour’s wait. One we got to the second level, we took a bunch of pics and decided not to go to the top. One has to cut one’s losses and make decisions that aren’t always perfect. With so few days in Paris, spending all of our second day trying to get to the top of the Eiffel tower seemed like a waste of time. Emma was disappointed and angry, of course.
We had our lunch up there — not cheap but cheaper than any restaurant. We had a hot dog, frites, crepes and coffee. The hot dog was good because of the spicy mustard I put on mine. The crepes were MEH. We’d have better crepes later. Emma bought a few things for her friends at the little shop and back down we went. After that, we thought we’d get the boat shuttle and see some of the museums. We would do the Musee d’Orsay this day because we knew it was huge and would require a lot of time. We bought a two-day pass for the boat shuttle and headed on up to the museum.
If you haven’t been there, it must be your first stop on the museum tour. The Musee d’Orsay is beautiful inside and out — it will bring to your knees with its beauty. As you move from room to room, you can’t decide whether it is the building or the art that is the most breathtaking. We strolled up and down, even with already tired legs and hurt feet. Van Gogh, Degas. Emma decided Degas was her favorite painter because of the ballerinas. She’s obsessed with two things lately: ballet and piano playing – partly because her friends at school already do either one or the other or both, but partly because they fascinate her for whatever reason.
Her spending money from her aunt Vanna (very kind of her) afforded her a chance to buy two small silk ballet toes shoes and those were her favorite thing throughout the entire trip.
After the Musee d’Orsay, we crossed the bridge to Jardin de Tuileries, hung out for a while and then went looking for an ATM. In so doing, we inadvertently ended up walking down the Rue de Rivoli. It’s full of upscale shops and cafes but no ATMs. We kept wandering and wandering until at last, down some side street we found one. In the touristy areas you’re more likely to find a money exchange place than an ATM and believe me, the money exchange place will rape your wallet. Stick with the ATM. They charge a fee but I don’t think it’s as much as the exchange fee.
With a little more money in our pockets we found ourselves at the Angelina Tea room. A bitchy French waitress pretended to be helpful when I was trying to ask if food was included with the tea. It wasn’t so Emma got a little strawberry parfait and we each got a small pot of tea. It was pretty, we felt out of place and weird. Some poor American single man was seated directly next to us (let’s lump all of the Americans together) and he said, “can I sit over there?” And he was moved. Emma and I chuckled to ourselves. Jeez, sitting next to us wasn’t that bad. It was a sucky place for him to sit, however. The French don’t seem to mind being elbow to elbow — we Americans kind of hate it. We having our individualist bubble pierced by anyone else.
Afterwards I bought two bags of hot chocolate mix, which is supposed to be famous (we’ll see). One for my sister and one for us. We sampled some of their macarons, as I’ve always wanted to try macarons. They’re very good, a little too sweet for my taste. I would suggest the coffee flavored one, though, if you want to try them.
We headed back to the Jardin de Tuileries where we decided to ride the carousel. It was a frightening experience for both of us – this is where I admit I’m not the world’s best person to travel with. I’m a complainer, in a sense, and I’m a coward. I hate heights, as I said, and carousels are probably my least favorite thing. This no doubt, rubbed off on Emma. She’s usually not afraid of such things but suddenly, the height got to her. It was an incredible view on the top but it was high and scary. What can one say, that’s the bitter truth.
After that, we got back on the boat shuttle (I think) and went to Notre Dame to check that out. They were having service so we weren’t really allowed to wander around. We did attempt to sit for the service out of respect but it was so hot in there and the incense was intense. Intense incense. We’re also not religious, so there’s that.
It is a gorgeous cathedral, however. The best thing we saw in that area, though, was a band of wild cats living on the grounds.
Then we wandered the backstreets up to La Marais area – the old Jewish quarter that is now a trendy hot spot. It’s really great. Crowded but great, especially if you’re a young single person. We found a little cafe there and had our only really nice dinner. The night before’s dinner at a bistro was delicious too – Emma had a hard time chewing her nearly raw steak. This dinner was much more palatable for her – salmon with scalloped potatoes. I had a whole seabass. We had the cheese plate for dessert and she had creme brulee. It was our most expensive and our nicest dinner. We loved that place – had a conversation with a kind Parisian gentlemen who said that his fellow townspeople were awful and that we were lucky they were all out of town and at the beach.
After our delicious dinner with our great staff (they’re from the South of France, according to my dinner pal, and that was why they were so funny and nice), we took a stroll over the bridge that joins the two isles and we sat to watch some street musicians. That was a moment in Paris I’ll never forget. Sunset, good music, wine still lingering in my nerve endings.
We then caught our bus shuttle back to to the Eiffel Tower where we then walked back to our hotel. It was probably our loveliest evening in Paris.
