Paris

Hello,

In case you were wondering, I had a wonderful time in Paris. I took a night train, leaving Thursday around 8pm and arriving on Friday morning at 9am. It wasn’t the most comfortable experience, as I’m not too fond of sleeping on an elongated seat cushion hung half-way up the wall with a sheet and a hairy blanket (that I didn’t use).

Shan and I were roommates at our hotel, Hotel Rocroy. We checked in, freshened up, and then took off on our weekend adventure. We were to meet our group at the Louvre at 3pm, and we had until then to explore the city. Our first stop – coffee and a French croissant, of course. Then the decision was made to experience the Eiffel Tower – we weren’t sure how long the good weather would last. After acclimating ourselves with Metro system, we chose our route and took of. The Eiffel Tower was beautiful – did you know it was supposed to be a temporary structure, built to stand for only 20 years in honor of the World Fair? I don’t remember the year, but I can’t seem to get over the fact that something that big was meant to be temporary. Shan and I walked up the stairs to the top – the view grew more beautiful with every level. About half-way up is a restaurant called “Altitude 95,” recommended by Mrs. Hryniewicki, world-traveler extraordinaire. The concierge at Hotel Rocroy told us that we wouldn’t be able to get a reservation, but Shan took matters into her own hands. When we reached the restaurant level (I’m guessing about 95ºN), Shan asked if they had any available tables for dinner, and they did! We made our reservation for 9pm. To say we were excited is an understatement – we practically danced down the gazillion stairs to the bottom.

Next stop – the Louvre. I was very excited to see the giant glass pyramid, marking our arrival at the gigantic museum. In order to see every piece of incredible-ness, I think you’d have to dedicate a lifetime. I was glad to go with my Antiquities TA, Anne Proctor. (Side note: That really is her name. Her parents are either big fans of Arthur Miller or they’ve never read The Crucible. Or they’re Puritans). We saw some really great works of art, my favorite being The Mona Lisa, Michelangelo’s Slaves, Venus de Milo, and Nike aka Wings of Victory.

After the Louvre, we returned to the hotel, recharged our batteries, and headed out for dinner. One of my most favorite things about this evening was, right when I had turned the corner and had taken my camera out to capture the Tower at night, it started to sparkle and blink with big, white lights. Everyone should see it sparkle – I don’t think they’re going to take it down any time soon, so please take your time, but do go and see it. Dinner was delicious – we both had this chicken dish, and Chianti of course, my favorite. We were the last to leave, and this time we took the elevator down.

On the metro on our way home, the funniest thing happened. Shan pointed out that the man in front of us was actually stuck, his blue-windbreaker caught between the two train doors. He sort of casually leaned against the doors, acting like he was anything but stuck. He had to wait until the next stop to be set free again. We were laughing so hard, and he looked up and chuckled with us. Ok, maybe you had to be there, but it really was quite a laugh.

Day two in Paris began the best any morning could possibly begin – hot chocolate at Angelina’s, another one of Mrs. Hryniewicki/Jess suggestions. This one was very much appreciated as well – I don’t think I’ve ever had hot chocolate like this. I also had bread and jam, just like Francis (remember, Mom?). It was delectably thick, served in a small pitcher at the most perfect temperature and accompanied with homemade whipped cream. Heaven on earth, I’d say.

After Angelina’s, we walked to The Orangerie, only to find that the museum didn’t open for another 2 hours. Don’t you worry though, we found a quite comfortable way to busy ourselves until then. We checked the map and fate would have it that the Chanel store was a mere ten minute walk from the museum. So we went. It was an experience walking around the fancy store, afraid to touch anything at all. Those stores are always interestingly sparse – a few rooms held no more than three dresses. We found our niche though – the makeup counter. Shan and I each bought a souvenier to mark our Chanel experience in Paris – perfume for Shan and a coat for me. Just kidding Dad. Eyeshadow did the trick. The woman who helped us was darling, and she included in our very chic, very white Chanel bags a plethora of samples. I’ve found a new favorite perfume as well, Allure. It’s wonderful. Oh! I almost forgot – they complimented me on my boots and I felt very cool. We waltzed out of the store, walkin' on sunshine.

The Orangerie was an incredible museum. Here, I was able to see Monet’s Water Lilies. The museum specially designed two rooms to hold these beautiful murals. Monet’s intention was to make the viewer feel as though they were walking along the bank – this intention he most assuredly achieved. Shan and I rented headsets, another suggestion from Mrs. H. Nevermind how tourist-y they made us look. I learned a lot about paintings by Rodin, Picasso, Monet, and other masters.

After The Orangerie, we took the Metro to this really interesting store that I had read about online. In French, its name La Droguerie means “the hardware store.” They didn’t sell tools and nails though – instead they sold ribbons and feathers and buttons and beads and yarn in every color and pattern you can imagine. I could have spent forever in there, matching colors and textures, but the line was so long and, alas we were only in Paris for a weekend.

Shan and I split up for a bit at this point – she was very excited about a certain Starbucks nearby where she could sit and journal, and I was itching to get to Shakespeare & Company, a curious bookstore right across the Siene from the Notre Dame. Jess, a Parisian at heart, told me I must go and that I would love it. I read about the bookstore in Inspiration Sandwich by SARK, an author who traveled aimlessly around Europe when she was younger. George Whitman, the owner (now 90 years old), offered her a place to stay if she read one book a day. Whitman’s philosophy is “Be not inhospitable to strangers, lest they be angels in disguise.” I loved it there – dusty old volumes shelved among newly published novels, ladders to reach the books on the top shelves, a rickety, pinched staircase leading up to the children’s section, the bunks, and a small niche with an antique typewriter, the creaky wooden floor, the bulletin boards with messages left by past “tenants” thanking George for his generosity – the store was very used, very comfortable, and very loved. I bought Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Eloise (my new favorite book).

Shan and I reconvened at the hotel, rested for a bit, read Eloise, and then headed out for dinner. We ate at a so-so restaurant, as we were trying to save money for our next adventure – champagne at the Ritz. We walked in like we owned the place. Through the doors we went (nodding at the doormen), past a parlor (stopping to sit on a fluffy-looking cushion), and down a really long hall lined with cases of expensive things (“Oh yes, mine is very similar, except my emerald sparkles a bit more and there are two diamonds instead of just one.”) At last we arrived at The Hemingway Bar. It was very small and intimate, with dark wood and forest green plaids – very Ralph Lauren if you catch my drift. We were probably the youngest ones in there – most were middle-aged couples. We waited for a table and were first offered a place at the bar. The bartender, upon our request, recited a menu of “three-year-aged” this and “hand-selected” that. We were given a table and then we ordered our drink of choice. Mine was appropriately called “Serendipity,” a drink with champagne, apple juice, mint leaves, and a yellow orchid placed gently on top. I really enjoyed it. Shan and I took a picture (well actually multiple pictures, but only one with a flash) inside the bar, and we were scolded by a waitress. “No no no no we do not take pictures in here.” Yes Mom. In that instant, went from kind of feeling like we kind of fit in to so obviously not fitting in at all.

After retracing our steps and reaching the concierge, we asked for recommendations for a fun place to be on a Saturday night in Paris. He wrote on The Ritz stationary our names and his recommended destination, a club called Cab. Instead of a taxi, we were offered a really nice car to take us to the club. When we got there, the line was pretty long and Shan suggested I show them the card so that we might be let in right away. I did, but I was really nervous and accidentally developed a pretty bad British/Australian accent. The guy didn’t seem to think anything of it though, and Shan and I were elegantly whisked past those waiting in line. The club was really really big with tons of room to dance. I was really hot because I had a turtleneck on – I do not recommend going to a night club wearing a turtleneck. In my defense though, the turtleneck is more Audrey-Hepburn than it is third-grade-before-you-knew-better. Shan resurrected her love for the stage and had a great time dancing with a French guy named Hugh. We left around 1:30am, and as the Metro closes at 1am, we were stuck without a mode of transportation. Our fairytale evening came to a definite close as the first drop of rain fell and we could not, for the life of us, get a cab. Yeah, I know, kind of ironic, seeing as the name of the club is Cab. Finally almost an hour later, we caught one and headed back to the hotel.

Once I got ready for bed, I stepped out into the hall in my pj’s to call Mom and Dad and Vinnie to say hello. I had no idea that my voice carried so much because, at the same exact time, two people opened their doors to tell me to be quiet. I was really embarrassed/startled, so I jumped up, turned to head down the stairs to the lobby, and slipped on the plastic that was covering the steps (apparently renovation = cheap hotel rates). I caught myself, and then tripped again on my pajama bottoms and fell down the stairs. Charming, I know. So is the bruise on my side. It’s quite funny looking back on it, especially because Vince was on the phone. Anyway, I thought that little anecdote might liven your day.

Sunday morning I woke up early and headed to Montmartre. The village of Montmartre is lovely and beautiful, even on a semi-gloomy day. I walked around, bopped into little shops selling French prints and souvenirs, explored around homes draped in ivy, and watched artists painted different scenes around town. Sacre Coeur, a giant church that sits atop a hill in Montmartre, was very pretty as well. Shan and I met up for lunch at La Maison Rose, a quaint and perfect French restaurant recommended by Jess and Mrs. Hryniewicki. I had my first experience with French onion soup. It was very delicious, and according to a certain self-proclaimed French onion soup connoisseur, I won’t find any better. We also walked into the not-so-cute part of Montmartre – our destination, The Moulin Rouge. That was very cool to see as well.

The Notre Dame and its flying buttresses came next, followed by a second trip to Shakespeare & Company. It seems sad to say, but with all of the churches I have seen and studied while abroad, they start to loose their edge and their impressive quality after, say, the twentieth. Someone should make a rule stating that you are only allowed to tour a certain number a churches per month. This way, these gravity-defying feats of architecture can be paid the attention they deserve. The Notre Dame is a beautiful gothic cathedral however, and I really do love flying buttresses. I guess the secret is finding specific things you like best about each and holding on to those.

We returned back to the hotel at 6pm on Sunday, gathered our things, and left for the train station. Although I slept much better on the way back, our train arrived two hours later on Monday morning. And it wasn’t just raining – it was pouring. Shannon and I walked home from the station. It would be a nice pleasant walk in any other weather, but by the time I got home, I was sopping wet, kind of cold, and pretty darn tired. My 9am Prose class was ¾ over at this point, so I just unpacked, hopped in the shower, and took a much-needed nap. It’s good to do something for yourself every now and then. As if the Ritz wasn’t enough.

Well, I knew this would be a long one. Thanks for reading, I appreciate it. Paris was a whirlwind, a tease. I would love to go back one day – there is so much I didn’t see. I really miss everyone. I think I only have about 30-something days left abroad. Are you green-eyed that I’m in the same country as Mr. and Mrs. Cruise? You should be.

“Getting bored is not allowed
Sometimes I comb my hair with a fork

Sometimes I wear my arm in a sling

Sometimes I put a rubberband on the end of my nose

Toe shoes make very good ears
Sometimes I wear them to lunch

Here’s what I like to do
Pretend”

- The one and only, Eloise

Happy almost birthday Mom!
Genevieve Lorraine