Adam's Semester in Rome: Spring Break Day 4: Paris

Our first day in Paris began bright and early at Frank’s flat in London. After packing up the rest of our stuff and saying goodbye to Frank and Vikki, Mo, Amy and I got on the tube at Great Portland Street to ride to Waterloo station in order to catch the Eurostar Chunnel train to Paris. We left ourselves plenty of time, we thought, but we did not realize that traveling on the Chunnel is much the same as traveling on a plane, complete with baggage check and passport check. This surprise culminated in the following harrowing sequence: Amy and Mo are past passport check with their bags, frantically staring at me stuck at baggage check, when we hear our train announced over the intercom, leaving very shortly. We all freak out, and I attempt to run past the passport checker, then get called back, I flash him my passport, and then we frantically run to catch our train. Fortunately, the gate was very nearby. Unfortunately, we had to sprint with our bags up a very long ramp to reach our gate. We got to the train just as the doors were closing… maybe they saw the frazzled sweaty Americans sprinting down the platform and were kind enough to wait. Anyway, I collapse into my seat and settle in, Amy and Mo were several cars away. The above picture was taken at Waterloo station, each tube station has a different decorative theme, and Waterloo's was very futuristic and interesting. If I had known how pressed for time we were, maybe I would have spent less time on the escalator taking pictures....

Leaving London was interesting, and it got me this shot of an apartment building in Wandsworth (which did actually look pretty dodgy). For going under the English Channel, it was a pretty standard train ride. I think I actually slept through the underwater part of the trip, so even if there had been a glass tube where you could look out into the water and see blue whales or something (which I’m guessing there wasn’t), I would have missed it anyway.

Eventually, we arrived at Gare du Nord station in Paris. Our first stop was a bathroom downstairs, where we were approached by a gypsy girl who said "Excuse me, do you speak English?" She then held up a cardboard sign that explained that she escaped from her homeland with her newborn triplets in a leaky rowboat after her father and sisters were killed by a school of rabid barracudas… it wasn’t that exactly, but something similarly extreme. I felt a pang of guilt, but I had no change, so she went on her way. My pang of guilt was completely obliterated, however, while I was waiting for the girls to use the crowded bathroom; there was a small army of gypsy girls in skirts working the crowd outside the bathrooms with the same song and dance, specifically targeting English-speakers. Lesson learned: Don’t trust anything that wears a skirt (applies to all women, but especially gypsy women in train stations.)

Our hotel was a few blocks away, near the Anvers metro stop, so we rolled our bags there and checked in. My room was nice, everything I needed and nothing I didn’t, complete with groovy tiles in the bathroom.

A glimpse of the grooviness in the bathroom... not so groovy was the shower with no water receptacle on the floor, just a drain. Anyway, after we checked in and set our stuff down, we headed out for a long day in the city.

Our first stop was Montmartre, since that’s the neighborhood our hotel was in. It’s one of Paris’ most famous neighborhoods, is home to Sacre Coeur, a basilica on one of the highest points in the city, and has a centuries-long tradition of being a haven for artists. We walked the short distance and shopped our way up to the foot of Sacre Coeur (actually, Amy shopped, Mo and I just pressed up against a wall to avoid the torrent of Asian tourists, as I recall).

The Anvers metro entrance.

Sacre Coeur!

Amy and I in front of Sacre Coeur.

Amy and Mo on the steps up the hill.

Here's one of the views from the terraces in front of Sacre Coeur. It was overcast for some of the morning, but a cloudy day in Paris is better than most days anywhere else, so it was still amazing.

Me with Paris sprawling out behind me.

After we got done taking pictures outside, we did a loop through the inside of the bailica, jostling with tourists as we went.

As we left the basilica and wandered farther into Montmartre, we caught our first glimpse of the symbol of Paris, the Eiffel Tower, from several miles away.

In Place du Tertres, a famous square in Montmartre, local artists set up their easels and draw portraits for people passing through.

Au Petit Comptoir... which, of course, is French for The Little... Comptoir, I guess. I basically knew zero French when we were in Paris, and still don't, but it's fun to see how far you can get with a decently pronounced "merci".