France 2008 - travel day, May 14

After a rough night in which people outside in the narrow street under our hotel window yelled at each other for hours, we had a nice petit dejeuner complet (I think that's what it was called - it had eggs, in any event) at the Bistro where we had our first beer. We had purchased tickets for the TGV (Train a Grande Vitesse) on the internet and our departure time was 1 pm so we had the morning to kill. We decided to walk across the Seine and have a look at the University in the Latin Quarter on the other side.

As we walked onto the bridge, I noticed two young women standing on a sort of pedestrian island. Later, we determined that on the left side of the wide bridge were two dedicated bus/taxi lanes that went in both directions. One of the women didn't look where she was going and stepped out onto the two lanes, right into the path of a taxi. The side of the car clipped her hand and spun her around and she fell forward onto the street. The taxi never even slowed down and didn't stop. Even if the pedestrian was at fault, it seems odd to me that the car wouldn't even stop.

Her friend screamed and traffic continued to go by while the woman who was hit got up and walked over to the main sidewalk at the side of the bridge where she had been headed. She had scraped her knees in the fall and she was nursing her hand which may very well have been broken in the impact, but otherwise, she seemed okay. A bus coming in the other direction stopped and a helpful woman got off and talked to the young women. We decided they had enough help and we didn't need to interfere so we kept on walking. But it was a bit of a shock and we weren't even involved.

It turns out that the Museum of Natural History is on the other side of the Seine at that bridge. We wandered around and looked at sculptures of dinosaurs and then headed up the busy, noisy road that runs along the river - the Quai Saint-Bernard. It seems the French love their cars and they zoom around in them all day, everywhere. There is never a lull in the traffic and I'm not sure if there are emission controls either. I sneezed regularly all the time we were in Paris. So we walked up the Quai and suddenly noticed what looked like pens behind the wall on our left as we were walking. It occurred to us that this might be a sort of zoo, when we spotted an Emu and then some other animals and finally ran across the sign that indicated it was indeed a Parc Zoologique. I mean, it's on the map, but we hadn't noticed.

By then, we'd had enough of cars and headed back to check out and trudge over to the Gare de Lyon where we were to catch the TGV. It was way early but I had a fear about missing this train that we'd paid big bucks for tickets in advance, so Peter indulged me and even though the train wasn't due to leave until 1 pm, we were there with our bags at 11 am. sigh. Sorry about it dude. So what do you do when you get to the station early and there are NO seats in the public areas? You sit down at the restaurant and have - you guessed it! a beer! We nursed that thing for over an hour until they finally started setting tables for lunch and then we felt we should move on.

The station itself is very pleasant to look at and I think I studied it (or one just like it) lo those many years ago when I took art history. It was quite the feat of architecture to span a huge open space like that, covering many tracks for the trains to come in and be under shelter. There was a large board with all the incoming and departing trains information on it and it was updated every few moments. Most of the trains left right on schedule, especially the TGV. Ours boarded about 10 minutes early and left right to the second, when it was due to.

The train journey itself was uneventful and the trains go so fast and I had had so little sleep the night before, that I fell asleep on the train and missed some lovely scenery. We changed trains to a regular local in Lyon and because we had a bit of time there between trains, we got a late lunch which consisted of a baguette sandwich with tomatoes and slices of brie. I don't ever remember having a brie sandwich in North America! Next stop - Arles.

France 2008 - Paris, May 13

Still the afternoon and fading into evening:
In retrospect, our first day in France was totally successful. After we arrived, we got on the right train, made the right connexions ('correspondence'), walked short distances, found the hotel first try, had beer. At 4 pm we got up after a much needed nap and set out to see what see could see. Our hotel was on a tiny street called Rue d'Austerlitz, off the Rue de Bercy. We oriented ourselves using the Rue de Bercy and headed west toward a canal off the Seine, between the Boulevards Bourdon and de la Bastille.

We saw lots of activity and canvas awnings lining both sides of the canal but when we went to walk down what appeared to be a sort of flea market lining the canal wall, a man stopped us and asked for 8 Euros each as an entrance fee. I still don't know if Peter was acting innocent or jet lagged or just being provocative but the first word out of his mouth was, "Pourquoi?" and this just cracked up the entrance guy. He said the equivalent of "Good one!" and let us in for free. I have no idea if this tactic would ever work again.

It turns out it was like a flea market and everybody in there was selling something, from paintings to books to huge pieces of furniture.

Here I am, pretending to look at picture frames. Every tenth vendor had their dog with them, some snoozing in little baskets under tiny cafe tables.

Later, we walk further west, into the Marais district and have a beer at a cafe, to rest and look at the map. We finish our very small draft ('pression') beers (at 250 ml, not very big at all) and continue on, just looking at things. Finally, we stop at yet another cafe, this time for a glass of real French wine (not to be confused with that stuff we get at the LCBO). It sounds like all we're doing so far is drinking but don't forget we were terribly dehydrated on the flight over.

We people watch and develop our theory of the Parisien. Peter takes a photo of a woman with a small black dog of indeterminate breed and she comes over to chat with us. She only speaks French and so we have a real conversation entirely in French with a real Parisienne. It turns out she is from Normandy, but she has lived in Paris for the last 30 years so I count that as being Parisienne. We are amazed by how our French comes back to us and how we are able to make ourselves understood. If Peter can't think of a word, sometimes I do or we just describe whatever it is in other words. No one seems to mind that we lapse into English in order to think through what we want to say and then launch back into high school French. We speak slowly, with a smile, make an effort and are rewarded by Parisiens being nice to us.

Finally, it's time for dinner so we find a place that looks inviting and have something light - not a whole three course meal or anything. It's still light even at 9 pm. I don't remember where we walked exactly but we ended up walking alongside the Seine. Apparently we walked fairly far west because when we turned to walk home, we were past the Ile Saint-Louis (the one without Notre Dame) and so we stopped there for coffee and dessert. And met an American woman artist who struck up a conversation with us, which was quite friendly. She was from New York City but spent a lot of time in Paris. She wondered where were we from since we seemed to be mangling both English and French (not what she said! but what I felt was happening). We told her it was the jet lag and we were Canadian, so that explained a lot.

France 2008 - Paris, May 13

Afternoon:
After our much-needed nap that wasn't nearly long enough, we change and walk out onto the streets of Paris. I have lived in Europe (but a long time ago) but this was Peter's first trip and our first trip together so it was all new and good. We had a map of the city and just decided to walk in one direction and then another, covering some of the Marais in the 3rd and 4th Arrondissements.

I start developing a theory of Parisiens, working against the stereotype that they are rude. Of course, you get rude people wherever you go but my generalisations lead me to a theory that Parisiens just "Do". They don't ask permission, they don't say "do you mind if...", they only obey the rules if they must (and the rules make sense). However, they do say "excusez moi" If they bump into you and they say "Bonjour" when you enter their shops. What I don't feel is an overweening sense of entitlement that I sometimes get in North America.

Peter opines that because they live in a large, congested city (he has been reading up on Paris and it has the greatest population density of any European city, according to "France for Dummies" which we left there, rather than carry it home so I can't look it up), they have limited resources and just want to make things work. If officious people came along all the time and told them not to park on the sidewalk for just five minutes, the level of frustration would explode. When they do park on the sidewalk to unload something, they don't expect anyone to accommodate them. They just do what they have to and move on. And yet, we don't see people taking advantage of lack of rule enforcement, maybe because they know the few could spoil it for the many.

Unfortunately, my laissez-faire opinion of them to the good does not extend to their resolute refusal to even acknowledge that their dogs poop. I have watched them (and the Brits too, I must say) stand and stare at anything but their dog while their dog poops and then nonchalantly stroll away leaving the evidence behind. Of course some people do this in North America but more people pick up I think than not, judging by the evidence. It is likely one reason that they have street sweepers out every day. The street sweepers really do keep the place clean and that's appreciated. But I wonder if that's why dog owners don't pick up - because they can get away with it.

As for this bit of evidence, not only do I not know how it got up there, but I would guess the motorized street sweepers didn't get it the next morning.

France 2008 - Paris, May 13

Arrival:
We get in to Charles deGaulle at about 8 am on the red-eye (there's a reason they call it that) and after a very disorganized shuffle through Customs, we find the train that will take us into downtown Paris. 8 Euro each and you can transfer to the Metro when you get downtown. Every square inch of vertical space beside the tracks is covered in graffiti. Disgruntled youths, perhaps. Certainly not budding artists. We watch the place names go by while we are still above ground and marvel that we are indeed, in France. Le Bourget, Aulnay-sous-Bois, La Plaine Stade de France. There were others but only the local trains stop there and now I don't see them on the map and I didn't write them down.

We change trains to get on the Metro and end up at the Gare de Lyon. Our choice of lightish weight backpacks proves to be a good one. We manage to find the right exit, based on where we think our hotel is and narrowly miss choosing to go in the wrong direction based on street names. For a moment, we thought we had to cross the Seine and it was our skepticism that that should be the case that made us look at the Metro neighbourhood map one more time. There are maps of the 'hood outside each Metro stop and they are handy for getting yourself oriented. It would be more helpful if there was an indication of North on the pavement outside the Metro because there are often multiple exits. I got this idea from a New Yorker who said they had a sort of contest to elicit ideas for improving the subway and that was one of them. It never was implemented, but what a good idea.

We come up from underground and blink in the bright sunlight. Get out the map and stumble the 5 minutes to our hotel on sore and swollen ankles (mine, anyway). Find out that the rooms are not available yet as checkout is 11am and they have to be cleaned which will take until about 1pm. We leave our packs at the Hotel Gare de Lyon and stumble back around the corner to a tiny bistro. By then it is nearing noon and I rationalize that I am so dehydrated and jet-lagged and in need of something sustaining that we order our first beer in Paris. Mmm, beer.

We sit and drink beer and observe. There is a Velib stand right down the sidewalk and we watch as some people stop or start from there and many more whiz by on the narrow but busy street. This is our "recover from jet lag" day so we don't have ambitions to see much of Paris before we take off for Arles tomorrow. We finally go back to the hotel where our room is ready and have a shower in one of the world's smallest showers. At least we have a bathroom in our room, I am thankful for that bit of planning and extra splurge. We collapse on the bed and sleep for the next few hours, having set an alarm so we don't sleep too much.