Paris: Days 1-3

Oh, I have been remiss.  There is so much to say, and so little energy with which to say it.

The entire first half of Thursday was a comedy of errors.  Due to a variety of technical and non-technical issues, I woke up in a great state of sleep deprivation and confusion.  The cruelest thing about traveling in a foreign country, for me, is that one of the things I need to do in order to be at my most coherent and brave is consume food and/or coffee regularly, especially in the morning, and doing those things in a country where one doesn't speak the language requires coherence and bravery.  So I arrived at the Frankfurt train station with plenty of time to spare but hungry and uncaffeinated.  However, I was able to get someone to sell me a cup of coffee, and thus fortified I purchased a breakfast item for consumption on the train.

The train ride was lovely; if you have never taken the train in Europe, you should know that it is far nicer than any American train (or economy-class plane).  In Paris, I found myself immediately in trouble again because I did not have enough coins to buy a metrocard, the machine would accept neither bills nor American credit cards (The Europeans have switched over to cards with chips and not all of their machines still take swipe cards.  This is intermittently a problem.), and there was no manned booth.  After a great deal of consternation I ended up walking to my apartment, which was actually less bad than the consternation had been.  Finally, on arrival there was the expected hassle of getting through two levels of gated entry (apparently we are very secure here in Paris; there are also three locks on my apartment door) and up seven flights of steps with my bag.

Then the real fun began.  I immediately needed to go shopping, as I did not have shampoo or groceries or toilet paper.  (I personally think it is inhumane to rent a vacation apartment and not leave even a starter bit.)  However, I could not seem to figure out where to buy it.  There are not giant Target stores in the middle of Paris (later, I found a Target ).  Even in New York it took me a bit of time and/or asking my roommates to figure out where to buy some things, and Paris does not seem to have any equivalent of Duane Reade (i.e. all immediate essentials including sufficient groceries to keep you from dying in the next 48 hours).  Eventually a lady in a pharmacy (which is also where you get toiletries; grocery stores don't have them) directed me to a grocery store, where they carry such things (apparently toilet paper is more like food than like soap).

After I completed my shopping trip, settled in, and tried some French food (turns out the baguette in the grocery store is not all that good), I set out for the Eiffel Tower, which was the meeting point of the evening bike tour I'd planned to take.  I was under the impression that Paris is on the petite side, at least compared to New York, but I underestimated the distance to the Eiffel Tower or else didn't take the most efficient route.  It took nearly an hour of pretty fast walking to get there.  Fortunately I made my tour, and it was quite good, a least for right then.  Usually I like my tours wonky and information-packed; this tour was mostly bike-riding with a little bit of talking, a boat ride, and some wine.  Which was great for that night, because I was mentally tired from being in a new city but had plenty of steam to burn off.  After the tour, a few flight crew were going to hang out and watch the Eiffel Tower lights and drink more wine, so I joined them, and the night ended with a very long and definitely-not-efficient trip back to the Rive Droite with another traveler from the tour.

So that was Thursday (I keep forgetting what day it is).  Yesterday I got a bit of a late start and decided to walk to Montmartre.  Again, I underestimated the distance; I also didn't realize that it was going to be ridiculously hot.  But I made it to the Sacre-Coeur and walked around the other sites in the neighborhood; there are a couple museums that didn't strike me as high priorities, but I can certainly return.  I also visited a Target-like superstore that sold housewares and not-quite-as-overpriced toiletries, where I got laundry detergent, and then I was able to do laundry in my space-age washer-dryer combo.  It sounds like not very much, but it seemed like rather a lot to do at the time.

Today was rather more eventful.  I set out at 7:55 a.m. with the plan to have breakfast at a cafe, but cafes in my neighborhood were not open.  Fortunately, as I headed into more heavily-trafficked areas and the hour got a bit later, they began to open, and I stopped in a tiny cafe for a cafe creme - the first time I've actually had coffee here.  I drank it standing at the counter like a real Parisian, and the cafe was just like the cafes in movies except slightly grottier.  My French seems to be good enough to conduct simple transactions as long as I'm not asked a question that I don't anticipate (for example, if I'm expecting to be given a price, I can understand the price, but if instead they ask me if I want my coffee "sur place" or to go, I can't keep up with the speed of the question, or if I can, I can't assemble a reply fast enough.  Usually this results in people walking away from me or just switching to English.  Anyway, while at the cafe, the Head Guy In Charge of Being Cross deputized his assistant to fetch baguettes and croissants; I watched which way she went and, when I finished my coffee, followed her to a small boulangerie/patisserie, where I picked up breakfast.

Next stop was the Orangerie museum, with a brief break for a rainstorm and getting soaked as the museum staff, being not any more in a hurry than anyone else on this continent, took their sweet time opening.  I spent the morning looking at paintings, especially Monet's big waterlily installation, and making notes in my Moleskine (it was given to me as a gift year ago and has always felt too pretentious to use... but, really, an art museum in Paris seems like a fitting venue).  Then I walked down Rue Rivoli, window shopping and going into the English-language bookstores.  Then I went to a grocery store (rather an event when you have little idea what anything is) and, after a brief stop at home for lunch, headed to the Left Bank to take in the window-shopping there.  I ended up in the Jardin de Luxembourg (which is way nicer than gardens in New York) and was planning to head home, but ended up having an impromptu language lesson and Latin Quarter tour with an obliging local.  Finally, on the way home I stopped at a fruit stall, the boulangerie two doors down from me (I discovered yesterday that boulangerie bread is much better than grocery store bread, and you can buy demi-baguettes), and the fromagerie for dinner.  Just like a local!  I was going to jog tonight, but the streets were still packed when I came in at 7:30, so I think I'll wait until morning - on a Sunday, it shouldn't be too much of a hassle covering the distance between my apartment and the quays, were I can probably jog in peace.