We both flew in Thursday evening, but into different airports on opposite sides of the city. We overlooked that detail when booking...oops. I flew into Charles de Gaulle, got off my plane, and began to look for a taxi. As I was approaching the exit, a few drivers asked me if I was looking for a taxi ride. I, not quite understanding the rules of the game yet, said "Why yes, I do." If anyone is wondering what those rules include, one is to exit the airport and get in a registered taxi, NOT the random ones trying to snag you in the airport. I walk out with this guy and quickly discover that my taxi is a motorcycle. Trying to stay positive, I reminded myself that I've always wanted to ride a motorcycle. The guy somehow stuffed my duffel bag into the trunk, gave me a helmet with a shade, a thick winter jacket, and gloves, and told me to climb on. Almost as soon as we started moving, the optimism began to drain away, and I instead begin to wonder if I was going to make it to my hotel in one piece. He, sensing my uncertainty, had told me earlier that a motorcycle taxi was a good option because the traffic was bad. It didn't register at the time, but as I soon found out, that was because he wove between cars, rode up the yellow line with inches to spare on either side, and would quickly turn on his hazards or beep to quickly warn the surrounding drivers that he was about to do something terrifying. When I wasn't squeezing my eyes shut and expecting the worst, I was eyeing the speedometer, and we hit over 130 km per hour. For all of you in The States, that's over 80mph. After what seemed like an eternity (but was actually a half hour), we pulled up in front of my hotel. To add insult to injury, he demanded 80 Euros for the ride. For an Evil Knievel motorcycle ride in the middle of winter. I told him no, and eventually managed to get him down to 60. This was still way too much, but I just wanted to check in.
Paul showed up an hour or two later. As we were hanging out, a terrible realization was made. You see, a couple weeks prior I had had a nightmare that I went to Paris and forgot the Avicii tickets (Paul had them delivered to my apartment). I told Paul about it and laughed, saying that there was no way I could possibly forget them after that. Well... I really shouldn't underestimate how crappy my memory is when it comes to important things.
Paul: "Hey, you have the Avicii tickets, right?"
Me: [eyes widen to saucers, bursts into tears]
He was really sweet about the whole thing and just tried to calm me down. For a few hours, we explored all available options. We could buy new ones...for $300. Nope. We could have them same-day delivered...if any of the customer service lines were in English or in service at night. Finally, after calling upon my fellow Tauschies (German word for exchange students, if you missed it) for assistance or ideas, a plan was made. The next morning, my friend Max got our landlord and had him unlock my door, got the tickets off my desk, and put them under the welcome mat at the front door of my apartment building. Ryan and Elana, as it turns out, were traveling to Paris that day anyway, so Ryan came by and got my tickets from the doormat. More on this story later.
Friday morning, we went to Versailles. I've wanted to check it out for years, and I was so happy we did. The palace was beautiful and ornate beyond description. It was hard to believe people actually lived like that.
"Starry Night Over the Rhone" by van Gogh
After speeding through d'Orsay, we rushed to the train station to get the tickets from Ryan and Elana. We had agreed prior to that point that we would meet at the Starbucks near a train station because we wouldn't be able to contact each other. Paul and I ended up having some issues with the Metro and got there 15-20 minutes late, and we didn't see them anywhere. I started panicking again, sure that we had missed them and were once again ticketless. Paul told me that he would go look for them if I showed him a picture to go off of. I showed him Ryan's profile picture, and off he went. I thought, "There's no way on earth he's going to remember that and find him." Lo and behold, after about 5 minutes, I see Paul walking across the station with Ryan and Elana next to him. He claimed it was because they stood out as not being European, but I was still impressed. As it turns out, there are two Starbucks at that train station and they were at the other. After thanking them profusely and eating a quick meal, we rushed back to the hotel to get ready for the concert.
It was a blast! I was also informed during the concert that the tickets were my Valentine's Day present. Too sweet.
We began the next morning by walking through the Latin Quarter and visiting the Pantheon.
We were planning on going to a crepe place for lunch, but it turned out to be a stand and we wanted to sit down. So we found a touristy little place that offered a three course meal for between 11 and 16 Euros. It was here that I first tried escargot and foie gras, which for those of you who don't know are snails and fattened duck liver, respectively.
The foie gras was alright, but I absolutely loved the escargot. They were cooked in garlic and basil, and I was sad when they were gone. I know; Who am I!? Paul and study abroad have both really helped me become much less of a picky eater. I no longer order the same thing everywhere I go and am slightly sad that I've been missing out all these years. I guess that's part of growing up though! I mean, Stephanie even eats vegetables now (she wouldn't even look at a salad before college).
Next it was off to Notre Dame. We didn't have time to go inside, unfortunately, but the outside is lovely.
Up next was the Place de la Concorde and walking up the Champs-Elysées to the Arc de Triomphe. The Champs-Elysées was extremely crowded, and we were a bit pressed for time. It was here that we encountered something I have seen time and time again: Europeans can't walk. "Katie! You can't make generalizations like that." Yes, I can. Allow me to elaborate. Europeans can't walk by American standards. They like to take leisurely strolls and plenty of space on the sidewalk, and for that I may envy them a bit. However, being an American that constantly walks like she's being chased, it is frustrating to speed weave in and out of crowds while shouting excuse mes in whatever language is appropriate at the time. I digress.
Place de la Concorde
Champs-Elysées
Arc de Triomphe
The final landmark for the day was the Eiffel Tower. When we got in line, the weather was pretty sunny and quite nice.
As we stood in line and the sun began to set, we noticed that the sky looked unusual in the distance, and I remarked that it looked pretty. However, as our time in line passed, it became apparent that the pretty sky was a downpour heading our way. Luckily Paul was wearing a rain jacket with a hood, because I was wearing a leather jacket. When the rain finally reached us, it was not just rain. It was hail. I ducked down, pulled my leather jacket over my head, and pulled it shut over my face. Paul put up his hood, stood behind me, and tried to act as a human shield so that my now-jacketless back would not get soaked. We shuffled through the line like this for a while, my head completely hidden in my coat and Paul trying to stay not more than a few inches away. We were quite the sight to behold, I'm sure. I wish I had a picture.
The short-lived storm rolling away
I definitely can't complain, as I can't imagine what it was like to be on top of the tower when the rain started. Once we finally got to the top, we were hit with gusts of wind like I've never experienced. Despite the safety fence, I was actually slightly petrified of being picked up and thrown off. But the other side of the observation deck was much calmer, and the views were breathtaking. We stayed up there for a while, taking pictures and taking it all in. Who could ask for a more romantic activity on Valentine's Day weekend?
Once we came down, we watched the tower sparkle before heading to dinner.
We take things very seriously.
Then we were off to an amazing dinner, courtesy of Paul! We ate at Pasco and were (I believe) the only tourists in there, which is usually a good sign as far as quality goes. As always, we ordered a few things and split all of them.
Pumpkin artichoke soup with croutons and pear foam
Beets, Japanese fruit, and mint
Stuffed quail
Some kind of steak and potatoes
Yes, that is filled with ice cream.
Ossau Iraty cheese with black cherry jam
On Sunday, we started off at the Louvre. We walked through most of it quickly, but we hit the main points.
"Dying Slave" by Michelangelo
Mona Lisa
Venus de Milo
The final stop of the trip was Pont des Arts, which is the famous Love Lock Bridge. You're supposed to go with your significant other to the bridge, write your names on a lock, lock it onto the bridge, and toss the key into the Seine. It was difficult to find space for our lock, but we managed!
I had an incredibly fun Valentine's Day weekend with Paul, and I really enjoyed getting to know Paris a bit better! Stay tuned for Rome!
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