Erika comes to Paris

DATELINE: 03.31.09 PARIS, FRANCE

Erika blew through Paris this last weekend.  She

arrived on Saturday morning and must, sadly, return to Boston tomorrow (wednesday).

I only got to have her for one day, but it was a fantastic day, and I am grateful that I got to have her all to myself.

We began the day at my place around 11:30am (well, Erika began by walking from Gare St. Lazare to my place in the 9eme arrondissement).  There were a few visits Erika needed to pay to some hotels so we left my house and aimed ourselves for the area near the Sarbonne - over in the 5eme arr. 

Sorry, strike that; *I* aimed us haphazardly in that direction but mostly just generally towards the river, while Erika - more familiar with the city and with a better sense of direction then I, aimed us towards an actual destination.

We meandered the streets, soaking in sun, clear blue skies, amazing weather, familiar company. I hadn't played tourist in Paris yet (I know - shameful), and could not have asked for a better companion or a better day to do so.

So we meandered the streets and eventually found ourselves in a small plaza with a fountain. We stopped for a few photos and to check the map, only to find that we had managed to drop ourselves *exactly* where we needed to be, not even one block from hotel #1 (although I had been aiming for hotel #2).  As Erika said: We could not have taken ourselves more directly here if we had tried.  

We visited the hotel and continued on our way, directly through the Louvre plaza with the Arc de Triomphe (not the main one) and the Jardins de Tuilleries, to the Pont des Arts, and along the Seine, now actually headed toward the Panthéon and hotel #2.  This time, I let Erika lead the way.  

We passed the Notre Dame and some government buildings where a group of (presumably) teachers were gathered across the street protesting the changes that Sarko (as they call him here) wants to make to the French educational system (he wants to cap salaries for teachers, change who gets to determine curriculum - so that he determines curriculum, and change the way the schools are funded).  People are immensely unhappy and the universities have been on strike for more than a month.  We suspect that he was either inside the building across the street or coming through - there was a great deal of security presence, a group of eager protesters, and some news cameramen.

We found our way to hotel #2, paid them a visit, and then had a seat to review our plan.  I ate peanuts. 

We decided to follow through on the original plan: purchase a baguette, a block of cheese, and a bottle of wine and sprawl on the grass either on the Champs Elysée another park, followed by an ascent of the Arc de Triomphe - the one everyone knows.  

One problem with out plan - it was Monday.  Most of the boulangerie are closed on Monday. Sadface.  

We were meandering more or less generally back towards the river and left towards the Arc de Triomphe and found ourselves getting really ravenous.  We found a boulangerie that was open (hallelujah) and bought a sandwich to split and a baguette.  The sandwich: a classic in Paris - Jambon, fromage, et burre dans baguette.  Possibly the most brilliant sandwich ever.  We meandered and ate, and suddenly found we had taken ourselves almost directly back to the Louvre.  I'm pretty sure my sense of direction is not that good, so I am convinced that among the other things stashed in Erika's cleavage there is a compass that has a direct line to her brain.

We walked through the Jardin des Tuileries, stopping for a nap, an orange, more baguette, and some sunbathing in one of the many lawn chairs that live around the man-made pools there. We continued on through the Place de la Concorde and onto the Champs Elysée, stopping for photos of the new roof on the Grands Palais.  This brought us directly to the Arc de Triomph.

We bought our tickets (making an attempt to get the student discount which was thwarted by our birth dates which were printed on the face of our student IDs. dammit.) and ascended the 286 winding stairs, 50 meters, up to the top - being careful to avoid the herd of jostling adolescents from Canada who came hollering all the way up.  You would think that the round and round and round you go up the stairs would have sedated then at least a little.  

At the top of the Arc de Triomphe we violated some of the rules, but not my favorites - no tighty-whities and no tripods.  It's true!  Ask Erika!  Erika seems to believe that the "No tighty-whities" man actually meant "no sunbathing" but I remain unconvinced.  He clearly was wearing tighty-whities.  The "no tripods" rule, I still can't figure out.  

From the Arc de Triomphe we followed Avenue de Friedland to Boulevard Haussmann toward the Gare St. Lazare, where Erika would get back on a train and return to the mystical land of Orly's house in the burbs.  We stopped at a cafe near the church of St. Augustine and spoiled ourselves with more sunbathing (don't worry France, we weren't in our tighty-whities!), good coffee, and a chocolate mousse like none other.  

I dropped Erika at the train with just moments to spare, and followed Ave. de St. Lazare to Rue des Martyrs.  My home turf.  Up the hill, up 6 flights of stairs, and 7 hrs later, I was home. Home and sunburnt.

A perfect day.  I miss Erika already.