After the Louvre on Saturday, we walked through the Tuileries, a park adjacent to the Louvre. The train that comes near the dorm also goes right by all these places and to the Arc de Triomphe, all the way down Rue de Rivoli. We wanted to get some food after the Tuileries, but making a short detour off course led us instead to the US embassy. However, we weren't really in the mood for American food, so we went back to the promenade. We stopped and I had my first sandwich in Paris, delicious ham and cheese with herbs, hot pressed to melt the cheese and on a lovely baguette. The park was bustling with people, but the sky was threatening us with dark clouds and rain drops. We found some temporary refuge in a theatre, and let the rain subside.
Sphere trees in Tuileries
We stopped in a few stores on the walk including the Pugeot store. They had a series of five or so discs rising to the top of the store, each one slowly rotating one of their cars. The first one was a rally car, the second a very old looking one, and the rest a mystery. We went into the Gap and a few other stores to find a scarf. The Gap had a pretty popular song playing called Help I'm Alive. There was another cool car store, I think it said Urban Control on the front, but was some other company like Renault. The store had a lot of rubberneckers outside and was causing the stream of people to bend and slow. There was a car leisurely rotating on a platform inside. It had air ducts on the front, set on the sides next to the head lights, and suicide doors, so that the whole side of the car seemed to open. We were now just before our destination.
My uncle took a picture of us standing in the street in line with the monument. There was a line of people waiting for this opportunity. Just watching the traffic zoom around in this totally crazy traffic circle is fun. Contrary to typical traffic circles, the traffic going in the circle would yield to the people gunning it down the straightaway. Whatever your opinion of this system, it did seem to work somehow. It was even funnier to watch from the top of the arc. We were up there for only five minutes before there was almost an accident. The circle travelling traffic was busy yielding to some people on the straight, but there one straggler who entered the circle when the yielding traffic was starting to move. The guts and arrogance this guy drove with, was evident when he barrelled into the circle without the slightest hesitation. The tiny car collision, tinier from above, would have been devastating to at least one trunkless car. Thankfully the little group of circle goers stopped just in time, and had a little argument. The funniest thing I saw was a biker going around the circle in the midst of a group of cars. Somehow this guy made it around the circle in traffic. Actually I think the cars near him were afraid to go around him for some reason. Ending our time atop the Arc we went down, took some water, went down again and had some coffee at a cafe.
Jon and Sharryn at Arc de Triomphe
Eiffel Tower from Arc de Triomphe
Street view from Arc de Triomphe
It's always interesting when the English only speaker has to interact with with someone. There may be an assumption made by both parties, or either party that one understands the other. The usual way to find out is to speak at them and see what they say. My aunt and I do not speak French, but my uncle does, so whenever there is a transaction it in someway has to go through him. Since I am young, the people at many establishments ask my age in case there is a discount. This happened at the Cluny, the beautiful young lady at the desk turned to me, mind you the museum is free on Sunday, and said what sounded to my ears at the time like “lahj.” This is where I usually employ one of my special facial expressions, which include blank stare, anger, surprise, and confusion. I chose bewilderment and looked to my uncle, who said “she wants to know your age.” So I told this pretty girl how old I was, “twenty two.” However, some interactions don't go as well as this one. Usually I use the fifth most important phrase from the book, which has many forms; “Je ne comprendez pas,” “je ne parl pas Francais,” “yo no comprendo,” and “no.” The last is reserved for people who walk up to me speaking French, asking for cigarettes or money, or if I speak English, because they then usually ask for money. Sometimes when the English only speaker is sent to do an errand, a short story of their adventure usually comes back. I like to give a play by play, since I can't process any interaction in real time. I have to go over it once to figure out how rude I was.
The plan for the evening was to take a short nap before traveling to Monte Marte, an artistic area with a large beautiful church, on top of a hill. It is famous for having many painters including Tolouse deLautrec, who depicted the ladies of the night, and did the famous illustrations of the Moulin Rouge. It is also famous for having the Moulin Rouge and the red light district. I sat and wrote in the hostel instead of napping. At this time there was a model getting photographed outside the window. The guy at the front desk and I discussed this happening; I learned that he did not find her attractive and that the photoshopping of the image would remove the look of cold she had and was surely experiencing. She did have very long legs, which is pretty uncommon from what I've seen, then again there are a lot of young people around. I killed tons of time typing away and then took a short nap before setting out.
Photo Shoot
The station at our destination was very cute, and like the station near the hostel had a carousel next to it. The hill that the Funiculer goes up really is a hike, but we marched up it with a few breaks in the middle. Before the church there is a large set of stairs, that are cut by the road. The stairs continued below the road but stopped at a balcony overlooking a small park. On all the steps there was a large group of people, of all ages, drinking, smoking, and singing. There was a small group of people at the bottom of the stairs in the middle that were singing a Katy Perry song, and they were getting the crowd to sing along. We walked along the road up to a small square dominated by cafe and restaurant tables, but I'm told was formerly full of artists. When it was time, we went down the hill to the restaurant.
Outside the restaurant stood several tables with patrons along with several different types of seafood, buckets of shrimp, and mussels from what I saw. The narrow restaurant had a very nice looking bar in the front, but beyond that and up a small set of stairs was the real eating area. On the right was a long padded bench, with small white stone tables in front. Both walls had large mirrors with wood divisions. At first glance I thought the back wall was mirrored also, but it was really just more tables. We were a very comical bunch going into such a nice place; my uncle had brought with him all his camera supplies, including a tripod, which jutted out from his already large backpack; I wore my colored hair brightly. My aunt was probably the most normal of us. When we got to our seats the backpack nearly took out our very personable next table neighbors' drink. Not wanting to part with the camera goods, my uncle wrestled with the pack while trying to sit at the bench. The waiter came over and took the pack and put it in the chair opposite my uncle, and said “wa la.” We had the best waiter I think I've ever had. He was joking with us and the next table at every chance, and was very non-chalant with us. He kidded that the pack was another person, and at the end of the meal that he was a piece of dessert.
I had a delicious piece of fish with asparagus in a cream sauce. My aunt had mustard chicken with fettucini, and a piece of some kind of delicious everything bread. My uncle had mussels, and gaspaco as an appetizer. There were also two desserts, a crème brulee with fresh raspberries, and something made of marzapan called floating island something (we couldn't figure out the something part, until the waiter informed us that it was he). I was thoroughly satisfied with the meal, the fish was delicious and asparagus perfect; the chicken was very tender and the mustard sauce amazing. I didn't have any mussels but he said they were very good. This was the best meal I've had in Paris so far.
After dinner we went back up to the church to see if my uncle could get a good picture. We took the Feniculer, a short up-hill tram that wasn't worth the fare. The crowd in this elevator consisted of several drunk or drinking teens, several well dressed beautiful blonds, and a father with two boys. I don't know what was being said, but everyone was laughing at a young girl, who was with a wine bottle carrying boy. She was talking loudly to some older lady, probably explaining her public intoxication. The shots of the church were not as great as we expected so we descended the hill. At the bottom of another very long flight of stairs one of a group of shady looking men approached me with a very small cloth bracelet, saying “hey big man” “I saw something” or something like that. I said “no, no, no” but he kept going for me. I guess he'd seen my Mickey mouse watch and was trying to take it off my wrist. He was following me pinching my elbow. Needles to say it was very unpleasant, and I really wanted to beat him up after that.
After escaping from that trap, we walked to the red light district. This was actually a very short walk from where we were and was really cool at night. I overheard an overly made up woman saying to man, “ok it's a Saturday night and there is a flat rate.” There were many sex shops, all types of fun sounding shows, and some bars and restaurants. At another spot I overheard “I've got seven girls...” before going out of earshot of the lady. We went by the Moulin Rouge, which actually has a windmill on the roof. I think the windmill is marked on a map we had as a “historic windmill.” Across from the Moulin Rouge there were some working girls, one was soliciting random men on the street. We avoided them and took the subway back to our homes.
Moulin Rouge
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