Paris, Part II

Upon reading this, I find myself wincing at most of what I've written. It's very unlike me to be impressed with anything, much less go on and on about it… But, I've stayed true to the entry, so… Here it is. 

March 18th, 2014

Evening in Barcelona


Picking up the story…

We had seen the Eiffel Tower earlier in the day, rising up into the hazy Paris sky. We had a couple of 'oh, neat' moments, then moved on. At night, however…
We saw it on our way to the River Seine cruise. Covered in yellow lights, looming over the city and loudly declaring- this is Paris.

The cruise was wonderful, also. Not too cold, with magnificent views of the buildings along the bank. Parisians cheered us past from where they hung over bridges or sat on the walls along the banks, while the full moon lit the water from above. It was one of those times where you simply sit back and smile stupidly, because… Well, you're in Paris. On the river. Under a full moon.
We got off at the Tower. Seeing it in movies, pictures, postcards, etc., just doesn't do it justice. You have to stand underneath it, gazing up into the intricate framework that keeps so many tons of metal upright. Everyone around you is happy, because… You're at the Eiffel Tower. Everything looks golden, and there's nowhere to go but up (if you'll excuse the puns). Two elevators later, I'm standing at the highest point in Paris, the wind whipping my hair into knots and the city spread out beneath my feet. I had thought the view from Notre Dame would have been the highlight of my day… No.
Paris at night is Paris the way the poets see it, the way authors write about it. Paris at night is what Parisians stick around for… Eating dinner in the moonlight by the river, walking the neon streets of the Latin Quarter, watching the Eiffel Tower burst into sparkling white lights every half hour or so.

I know everything I'm writing is stereotypical Paris, but that's what I saw. I did see berets, and fluffy toy dogs, and more little street cafes than I could count. I did see gorgeous women on retro bicycles and old couples feeding pigeons. Granted, I only saw three days worth of an enormous city, but I feel convinced that Paris lives up to the postcards and chick flicks. It's beautiful.

Back to the Tower. The wind was ferocious, so I spent a great deal of time spitting hair out of my mouth, but it didn't diminish the experience. The view… Go see it before you die. Golden lights, cars flashing by, and a thick, dark streak of absolute nothing where the river cuts through all the chaos.
It hurts to remember and know it may be many years before I see it again. It will be forever impressed in my mind as one of the greatest nights of my life. I'm going to add here that I watched Ratatouille the other night and nearly cried (or came as close to crying as a Brown can) because I wanted to go back so badly. Let that say what it will.
I may not have mentioned this before, but I'm traveling with a fun (read: interesting) group of people. Several of the guys proposed marriage to random girls- I believe only one said yes. They have yet to set a date.

Anyways, when my poor hair had been sufficiently knotted (and after a few random pictures with some Indian tourists) we headed down. The trinket peddlers were there, and a few girls attempted haggling with them. Here's how it went:
"Five for one euro!"
"How about six for one?"
"Five for one."
"Hmm… I got six for one someplace else."
"Well, not from me."
Silence.
"Okay… Five for one, I guess."
Paris tip: don't haggle with the trinket sellers.

Back to our hotel, bed, morning. Our day is refreshingly slow, starting with a late wakeup call at 8:15. We had a nice, relaxed breakfast, packed our bags for the night train, then listened to a missionary to France talk. His name was Ricardo, and he was originally from America. He shared a bit about the church he works and the spiritual needs of the French people, while also encouraging us to be sensitive to God calling us to foreign mission work. It was encouraging to see a Christian trying to reshape the way we evangelize… Instead of thumping on our Bibles and roaring out John 3:16, we immerse ourselves in the culture, make long-lasting relationships, and train natives to make apostles. It's a tough job, and I admire him for taking it up.
After this, we headed to the Louvre. After finally making it past the rather rude people at the gate (the only people in the city who really fit that 'French' stereotype), I made it inside and realized there was nothing I particularly felt the need to see. We wandered aimlessly through the sculptures, then made our way into paintings. The vast amount of them were nude and dull, though I confess that art has never been my thing. I found several interesting works featuring martyred saints, however, one featuring a meat cleaver through the head. I also saw repeated statues of children strangling ducks, in Rome AND Paris. Anyone care to explain this to me? Was this a game enjoyed by ancient children… Fowl strangling?
We made our way (pushed, shoved, and scratched, I should say) to the Mona Lisa, saw the Wedding Feast at Cana (far more impressive), then found ourselves in an exhibit featuring ancient tribal art from various cultures. More moai. Our group then left to walk inside Notre Dame. The interior is gorgeous, with a massive organ and beautiful stained glass. Flickering candles, statues of Mary, prayer benches… It all felt very Catholic and very solemn. Obviously, this was my first visit to a Catholic church. 
Looking up into the massive, vaulted ceilings, it wasn't hard to imagine Quasimodo crouching in the shadows, savage face half-lit by the colored light streaming through the windows. Harder to picture those talking gargoyles.
I wandered for a while, comparing Notre Dame to Westminster. I came to the conclusion that while the Abbey is more beautiful, it feels more like a consecrated tomb and less like a church. Notre Dame, however, felt very much like a church… if a little stiff.
After the church, we went to find lunch. The majority of the group went for a sit-down lunch, but seeing as how I only had about six euro in my pocket, Michael and I opted for takeaway crepes. I am ashamed to say this was my first time buying food in Paris… The previous day had been so rushed, and I had felt so sick, that I opted out. But after sinking my teeth into a hot crepe slathered in Nutella, I regretted it. It was comparable to the top of the Eiffel Tower. The Nutella wasn't as sweet as it is in the States, and the crepe was warm with crisp, flaky edges… Michael and I sat by Notre Dame and ate and talked. It was nice to talk to him, especially since he's not going to Rome. He's pretty amazing, and I'm beyond thankful he helped me go on this trip. If he hadn't pushed and pushed, sold BBQ, organized yard sale stuff… I wouldn't be sitting in a hotel room in Barcelona. So, thanks, Uncle Mike… I'm sorry we can't see Rome together this time, but I fully intend to come back, and I'm dragging you with me. This time, I'll do the fundraising for you.


After eating, we headed off to find an ATM. We went in the completely wrong direction and found a few cute little streets… Bought some treats for the Browns back home, then found the rest of our group at the Love Locked Bridge. We studied some of the more interesting locks while a guy played his saxophone opposite, then walked off the bridge to the sounds of an accordion. Again… quintessential Paris.
We drifted in and out of a few tourist shops, then met up with the rest of the group for dinner. Now comes the confession… I bought another crepe beforehand. I was determined to eat Parisian food while I could, so I got ham and cheese. The cook, however, recognized me. His exact words: you want something else? His face said- really? Oh, the shame. Bad omen. He then felt the need to make the thing twice as large as it should be. I only managed half of it (no regrets), and barely touched dinner, which was basically pizza on a cracker with a funny name- flammekeuche? Who knows. 
We ate, then got our luggage and headed to the train station. We were herded into groups of five, then given thirty euros and instructed to buy next morning's breakfast. Problem- we had thirty minutes, and we spent half of that time looking for and using a bathroom. It then took us ten minutes to find a shop where we could buy food- Tomasso, God bless him, met us and pointed us in the right direction. I couldn't help but notice he had purchased an entire pack of Oreos… perhaps we drove him to a sugar binge? Who knows. Anyways, we bought our food and puushed our way through the narrow, neon streets of the Latin Quarter (which I intend to explore more thoroughly the next time I'm there… interesting place). Anyways, we made it only a minute late, then headed back for the night train… Which I will relate to you tomorrow, along with my impressions of Barcelona.

Abigail