Boyhood Fantasies Become Satisfying Reality
Written: Jul 01 '05 (Updated Sep 28 '05)
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Product Rating:
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Pros: All the cliches are true and come to life...
Cons: ...asides from a rather startling stench of urine.
The Bottom Line: Hire an accordion player to follow you around all day playing doleful Edith Piaf melodies to complete the experience.
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| munkus's Full Review: Paris |
I'm not going to lie. I was in Paris for two weeks last May-June so this review will probably go on and on. If you want just the good stuff, scroll on down to the Top Ten where I list in no particular order what I feel are the 10 unmissable sights and experiences in Paris. If you have some time on your hands and a strong bladder, you can read all the preceding material that includes, amongst other things, mundane childhood memories, the acoustics of orgasms in French hotels and why if you order coke with your dinner in Paris you may as well just ask to be shown to the chef and urinate all over his kitchen.
Paris held a risky position in my existence. One of my earliest memories is being completely absorbed in my grandmother's 1975 Fodor's guide to Europe, in particular Paris. From then on, Paris became a fixation. I learnt French for six years during school, for a start. Over high school it faded slightly but was always there, burbling away at the back of my brain as somewhere I had to go, and as soon as possible. It took my five years after finishing high school- I'm not sure why, but various things seemed to pop up- and so when I boarded the flight in London I was naturally filled with a quite horrid sense of apprehension of what if I didn't live up to the ideal in my head?
Fortunately, it did do just that. Eventually.
My first day or two were oddly flat (I keep a travel journal for these types of jaunts, and the writing on these days is oddly characterless and a mere recitation of what I did and when). But then on the third day, coinciding with the Musee Rodin coincidentally, Paris completely won me over and she shall be an undoubtedly harsh mistress evermore.
Bravely, I had booked myself for two weeks in Paris. It was to be the centrepiece, the raison d'etre, for this entire jaunt. Two weeks was just perfect too. It meant that when I didn't feel like another museum I could spend an entire afternoon reading in the Tuileries.
I now approach the review proper with come trepidation. Its not easy to write about Paris when the wonderful ifif1938 seems to have the market covered!
How I Got There
I flew from London Heathrow to Paris CDG on the airline that doesn't really know what it is anymore, bmi. It was the cheapest fare from Heathrow or Gatwick (I wanted somewhere on the train system) and there are probably better deals with easyjet and Ryanair. Nowadays it is almost always cheaper to take the 45 minute flight across the Channel than the 3hr Eurotunnel train ride- but the pay-off for the train is it delivers you to the heart of your destination and when you factor in travel to airports and airport fuss, takes about the same time anyway.
CDG Terminal 1 is architecturally fascinating but not so much not user-friendly as user-hostile. All I can say is grit your teeth, gird your loins, find an English speaking employee and don't let them go until you're escorted personally to where you want to be. I was amused that in these days of global security paranoia the extremely bored passport man didn't even look at my photo page before stamping my entry.
Where I Stayed
Hotel St-Honore, 85 Rue St-Honore 75001. If you know your Paris postcodes, you'll realise the 01 stands for the centre of Paris and this hotel must almost be on the very centre. Its at the daggy end of Rue St-Honore, near the extremely depressing Forum des Halles shopping centre and about a five minute walk from the Centre Pompidou, Notre Dame, Sainte Chapelle and the Ile St-Louis. The Marais is also an easy stroll away and although the hotel is about two minutes walk from the Hotel de Ville end of the Louvre, to reach the actual entrance will take about twenty minutes. Its about a two minute walk to one of the seemingly thousands entry/exit points of the mammoth Chatelet-Les Halles Metro/RER station (RER B from both CDG and Orly Airports passes through here too) so almost everywhere in Paris is within easy reach. Chatelet-Les Halles also holds the distinction of being the only subway station I've ever found a complete string orchestra busking (seriously). One of my guidebooks says that this is the world's busiest subway station. I think its an error- Shinjuku in Tokyo processes 2,000,000 people a day so perhaps they meant in Europe.
The hotel itself has tiny, clean, basically appointed rooms with postage-stamp bathroom and TV with CNN. My bathroom was so tiny that it was difficult to dry oneself, but by opening the door it in effect blocked off my sole window so I adopted studio-style living for two weeks. The worst thing however is it was on the top floor and there were 90 stairs between me and the hotel entrance. But, this was not entirely a bad thing as two doors down from the hotel was one of Paris' finest patisseries so it all balanced out in terms of my thighs. The other minor annoyance were the walls were disturbingly thin. Around my third day, a massive party of young Thai businessmen checked in to most of the second and third floors and they would stay up late nearly every night talking loudly, drinking and smoking. In the second week a party of American high school girls arrived- I'll leave that one to your imagination. The unquestionable highlight though was the first time I heard a woman having a rather intense orgasm. At first I thought it a restless imagination, but, lo, when I looked out the window into the internal courtyard all these Thai heads were popping out too. The orgasms returned again the following week but I think it was a different woman and this time were some sporadic male grunts going on too. Still, it enlivened a few of my more dull evenings in Paris.
The common criticism of Paris are that Parisians are rude and haughty. This stereotype is a couple of decades out of date (the nicest person I met in all my travels was in Paris- I was struggling with my suitcase early Saturday morning at the nightmare that is Chatelet-Les Halles metro and this young guy, who looked like he'd slice me open for my loose change, smilingly hoisted my suitcase over his head and bounded down the stairs to save me carrying it, he dismissed my profuse thanks with a smiling shake of the head and instead asked me to tell the world how nice people in Paris are- as I have just done), but to someone from a more openly friendly society such as the US or Australia what is natural French reserve can be seen as being given the cold-shoulder. And, truth be told, Parisians aren't rude. Rather, they're insanely polite and it is more a complete lack of understanding of their strictly upheld rules of etiquette that leads to subsequent misunderstandings by, primarily Americans (Australians and Brits do it just as much, but the French are a lot more forgiving of us primarily because we're not American). I couldn't count the number of times that a simple rule of French etiquette was breached, quite innocently, by tourists. The primary one was in shops. In Australia at least, it is generally accepted that the shop assistant greets the customer- not to do so seems to mean the customer is unwelcome. In France its the other way round as you're entering their shop. Even a linguistic nincompoop can manage a suitably polite bonjour madame/monsieur/madamoiselle(and no, I don't know really when you switch from m'selle to mme but its best just to follow suit so as not to cause offence) as you enter a shop and a cheery au revoir when you leave. Believe me, it'll make a world of difference. This doesn't apply in department stores though, where the only way a sales assistant will acknowledge you before they're good and ready is if you strip naked, cover yourself in beeswax and climb atop a mannequin and sing Nessun dorma at the top of your lungs.
Many common unintentional gaffes are related to food and drink, taken very seriously in France indeed. The French never, ever request a change to an item on the menu- none of this 'can I have that but without the tomatoes?' as it implies you don't trust the chef. Sure, you may not get tomatoes but you will get a hearty side helping of kitchen spit. If you're on some kind of fad diet which will require alterations to everything on a menu- don't go to France. Also you may drink one of two beverages with your meal- wine or mineral water (preferably sparking, but still is just acceptable). Never beer (unless you're eating mussels or pizza) or, god help us all, coke. Your waiter will never respect you, and you shall bring dishonour on yourself and your ancestors. If you really want to discreetly impress the locals, don't eat shellfish except the months that in French end in -re (Sept-Dec). Whilst devotion to coffee is not as much as an etiquette minefield as it is in Italy, it is extremely odd to drink coffee with milk after dinner- and even more odd to have coffee with dessert, not after.
In Paris I used the Dorling Kindersley Eyewitness Guide, which is absolutely excellent and doubles up nicely as a post-trip souvenir (the photography is gorgeous) and has some of the best maps I've ever seen in a guide book. I also used the Lonely Planet "Short Break" Paris guide- this pocket sized guide was good for picking out a range of 'must-see' attractions and had a much better representation for lower-budget travel than DK- but it wasn't as accurate in regards to opening times etc... nor revised as regularly. It did however have admission fees, which whilst a few years old, at least give a good indication.
THE TOP TEN
Drumroll, please Jean-Luc. As I did with London, some notable omissions. The first one that is screamingly obviously not on the list is... the Eiffel Tower! I dare to suggest that even the most jaded jetsetter still feels a quiver of excitement when they see France's most famous phallic symbol. I was practically skipping along the Champ de Mars as I approached this formidable erection. At any rate, you couldn't have got the moronic grin off my face with a chisel. The view is even more divine from the other side- from the Palais Chaillot (in my mind the most perfect set of buildings in the world). But when you pay your money, queue for more time than it took to build the thing, you finally reach the poky summit...... and its all rather daggy. The static displays haven't been changed since, oh, 1902 and its so crowded that you have to queue to take a photo from any given angle. The view itself didn't impress me, as I'd already seen it from the less-historic but cheaper-and-mercifully-free-of-crowds Tour Montparnasse. Still, I suppose the real point of mounting the tower is to say you've done it, and now that I have I needn't do it again. If you are going though, take a book or fascinating conversationalist to help while away the queuing time. Similarly, Montmarte didn't do it for me (and I repeat the warning of a thousand guidebooks- if you're staying in Montmarte check very very carefully that you're not actually in Pigalles down the hill- a super-seedy sex district). I even tried to visit the Musee d'Erotisme which for almost the same ticket price as the Louvre, you can see seven (7!!!!) floors of antique dild/s and the like.
Musee du Louvre
Let's start with a dumpy little art gallery, no?
Quite simply, the Louvre is the world's most famous art museum home to the Mona Lisa (thank you Dan Brown for making it even more impossible for people to see), the Venus de Milo and my favourite Winged Victory. I plan to write a separate review of the Louvre- I could talk about it for hours and this has already gone on well long enough- however other highlights included the Cours Marly and Napoleon Apartments.
Being the world's most popular museum and being in the hands of the French has led to a ruthlessly stylish efficiency in people management and the size of the Louvre means it can absorb the thousands with relative ease, and when you get away from the more overwhelmingly famous works you can often find a gallery to yourself. Once you get past the security check in the IM Pei's pyramid (try not to have a bag- it'll slow you down for the inspection) there are multi-lingual ticket machines in the lobby that accept Euros and all major cards. Down here is beautifully designed for people flow, but does nonetheless have the feel of a beautiful, stylish airport concourse.
Tuileries
A logical choice, being just outside the Louvre. Exquisite formal gardens with various bits of weathered marble and fountains. The only downer are all the KEEP OF THE GRASS signs, my most loathed sign, yet the gardens are overall so wonderfully formal I was willing to overlook it this time. Try not to be in the gardens close to 9pm during summer when they close- the militant whistle-blowing wardens take no hostages in clearing the place out and it really ruins the magic.
Angelina
Also near the Louvre and Tuileries is one of those magical places, like Harrods in London, that manages to absorb both tourists (that aren't intimidated) and locals without sacrificing anything that makes it special.
Disgustingly wealthy elderly French matrons in hats mingle with Americans in sweat pants and Japanese couples who photograph everything for one reason and one reason only- chocolat. Angelina's makes the best in the world- a rich, creamy blend in which you stir in your own chantilly cream all for the very reasonable price of $6 (euro) in Belle Epoque splendour with old fashioned waiter/waitress service.
Its absolutely wonderful. Be prepared to queue at the lunch and afternoon tea hour.
Musee Rodin
As aforementioned, it was at the Musee Rodin that I made peace with Paris. The actual museum is in Rodin's quite impressive little mansion but the real glories are outside in the beautifully manicured garden (the third largest private garden in Paris)- The Thinker, Burghers of Calais and so on. I've always loved Rodin- his brute, powerful sensuality- and it was sitting in this garden on a somewhat gloomy day that I realise that Paris had lived up to my expectations and exceeded them.
Musee d'Orsay
This will be another one with a separate review, so I'll be brief. Some inspired soul saved the former Gare d'Orsay and converted it, utterly brilliantly, into a home for the Louvre's Impressionist collections and some various bits and pieces of sculpture. Of course its so wonderful, with an unrivalled collection of Monet and his chums, that it is overwhelmingly popular- until you discover the secret.
I'm almost loathe to share it, but the museum is open late on Thursday night. On the weekend, you'll often see the queue stretching to Slovenia, but at 6pm on Thursday I just swanned right in to the entrance. It has a surprisingly good and well priced restaurant in luxurious surrounds upstairs, but they sure do you rush you through your meal.
Jardins Luxembourg
For some reason these pretty gardens, despite more PELOUSE INTERDITE signage, felt the most French to me. I think it was the men playing boules, or canoodling dark-haired couples or beautifully attired children playing with model boats in the Octagonal Pond- or most likely a combination of all of these things. They're a very pleasant place for a stroll, naturally, or a long lazy read (or snog, depending on your travelling conditions) around the Octagonal Pond.
Parc Andre Citroen
These gardens, the only modern ones in Paris, are almost unknown by tourists but are very popular with locals. Take the RER or Metro to Javel-Balard on the outskirts of central Paris and walk along a very unattractive railway siding before having your breath taken away by these contemporary gardens- a collaboration between architects, horticulturalists and interior designers. A vast open lawn is used to launch hot air balloons and is bordered by striking minimalist cascades. Along one side are a series of outdoor rooms- each simply classified by a colour (the blue room features little bursts of lavendar) but also by an element and a mood. There is a Garden of Indecision, for example.
Also, there's not a single PELOUSE INTERDITE sign in sight.
Versailles
Okay so its technically not Paris, and I've done a separate review so I'll be brief, but Versailles is gorgeously over the top and an absolute must-see. If you can afford the whole day out there- and I recommend there is no other way- go to the Paris Tourist Office in the city and buy a $20 (euro) Versailles Passeport (you can buy it as far in advance as you like- the staff at Versailles will date-stamp it when you turn up). This was a lifesaver for me- no queue, free (interesting, too) audio guides and access to all the sections of Versailles- the Chateau, the Trianons, the Gardens and Marie Antoinette's Hamlet. Otherwise you have to pay for each section separately. You can buy the Passeport on site, but be prepared to queue as other people latch on to it.
Palais Garnier
The old opera house, an orgy of overwrought splendour, was made famous by Andrew Lloyd Webber's pleasantly glib musical and the later movie. The only way to really experience this incredible building is to experience as it was intended to be experienced (can I use the word experience anymore in that sentence? I think I can). Buy a ticket and hang the expense. There are occasional chamber music concerts which are a bargain. Feel smug as the doorman lets you in past the tourists, then step back into another age in the splendid marble foyer and grand staircase, and the Salle Garnier lit by half a dozen chandeliars. Then inside the auditorium, if the concert gets boring there is always something to look at- some artistic detail in the decor- and of course Chagall's sumptuous dome, illuminating several famous ballets and operas.
And of course, there is that famous chandeliar.
Arc de Triomphe
The Champs Elysees may be nothing but tourists nowadays who don't know better than that they're being ripped off and car showrooms but I still nominate it as one of the most gorgeous streets in the world. Nowhere is this more evident than perched a top the Arc de Triomphe. The lift was (surprise) out of order on my visit, but the 284 stairs were well worth it. Sit up here as dusk approaches and enjoy one of Paris' best free entertainments as cars approach spectacular collisions with each other on the Place d'Etoile below you. Look down at the Champs Elysees- at this height you can't really make out that they're all tourists or the Planet Hollywood signs- and imagine what it must've been liked in its heyday and this is something approaching the fantasy Paris I think a lot of us harbour.
There were some that almost made the cut- the quirky Musee des Egouts- the sewer museum. The smell really wasn't as bad as people make out, but it was raining quite heavily so perhaps that helps. It would've made the list but the gift shop was sadly disappointing. The Tour Montparnasse is just a boring office block but the view from the 64th floor is sensational, for half the price of the Eiffel (though without the prestige, it is true) and if you're lucky no queue at all. Also you can stand up on the roof in brilliant sunshine and feel the wind in your hair (most people miss the stairs to the roof- when you come out of the lift on Level 64 turn right. The door is marked, but not particularly obviously). If you're a Picasso fan, the Musee Picasso is a compulsory visit, but I found the collection a little dull despite being a Picasso fan. The design of the museum is very clever though.
The Centre Pompidou is another omission. I think Richard Rodgers' building is a bit of a toss- its on a dank plaza and keeps falling apart- but would probably like it if it had a better location. I can't really judge the Pompidou fairly because most of the permanent collection was closed for some reason. There were however two extraordinary temporary exhibitions that I stumbled upon- some 1930s architect (and I love architectural models like you wouldn't believe) and an exhibit of wonderful contemporary African art- not something you get to see very often. The Pompidou does have an excellent gift shop, and a huge separate bookshop.
I wrote the list for the Top 10 on my last night in Paris, and looking back on it I'm startled that the Pere Lachaise Cemetary didn't make the list. This massive rambling cemetary is free for a start (rare indeed in this very expensive town) and has always been particularly trendy with more famous tombs than you can count- most notably Oscar Wilde and Victor Noir- a journalist murdered in the 1800s who has achieved lasting fame because his effigy on his tomb has a rather large, ahem, 'package' that is believed to have fertility powers so is buffed up to a shiny bronze from good luck rubs. But its not these reasons that I remember it so. Rather, it was the extraordinary atmosphere I experience- having whole sections of this massive graveyard to myself whilst a thunderstorm was brewing overhead. Better yet, its home to a spooky family of black cats with demonic eyes. I swear I'm not exaggerating this- but I was happily (that may be the wrong adverb, but you get the idea) examing some grave or another when this black cat sulkily emerged from behind it, stood dead (ha!) still and stared at me unblinkingly. I'm a bit of a cat fan, so I approached and it skittered away. When I turned around there was another black cat watching me from behind. When I approached it, it darted away. You get the suitably spooky idea. One of the best free views of Paris was from the rooftop terrace of the venerable old department store La Samirataine, near the back end of the Louvre. Alas, alas one of Paris' last free tourist attractions is now gone as almost three weeks ago to the day the store was deemed an unforgiveable fire hazard and has closed for at least three years to get itself into shape- however Parisians are not optimistic it will ever re-open.
It may interest those of you who have read French Women Don't Get Fat that I did not see a single French woman who was fat in Paris. Everytime you saw someone overweight waddle past, you could guarantee they would be holding a guidebook. This became a topic of lively email correspondence between my mother and I- she urged me to search the suburbs with 'surely there must be some fat French women for the love of god' but there was no luck there either. However, all is not lost, as there are some distinctly chubby French teenagers so perhaps times are changing.
Man, this turned out way longer than I intended. If you stuck it out, I thank you. As you may have been able to tell, Paris is super special for me and its hard to shut up.
Recommended:
Yes
Best Time to Travel Here: Jun - Aug
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munkus
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Location: Ruritania
Reviews written: 205
Trusted by: 113 members
About Me:
Munkus now lives in America. He is the size of a house.
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