Paris 2.0

I knew I wanted to see a few different places than I saw during my first visit to the City of Lights. I perused my Euro guidebook for tips on sites I hadn't seen and circled spots of interest. After some self-reflection regarding places I'd highlighted, I learned something really deep about myself: I really like dead people. Seriously, three of the places I noted had corpses as the main attraction (we ultimately only visited one).

With my dead-people fascination in mind, our first stop in Paris was the Catacombs, a dark, musty labyrinth of subterranean tunnels decoratively packed with millions of displaced corpses. The Catacombs occupy only a small fraction of the abandoned stone mines that twist for 280 kilometers beneath the city.

The empty mines became the mildly-disturbing-but-intriguing bone depository that they are today out of need and availability. Paris needed space for dead bodies, and the abandoned tunnels offered virtually endless space. The city's cemeteries were quite literally overflowing with human remains back in the 1700s. Decaying organic material was seeping into the water supply. Parisians were being buried en masse and then exhumed once their flesh gave way to bones that could be stored above ground.

It sounds like it was a pretty gross situation, and the solution was almost equally as gross: put the bones of 6 million people into black-covered horse-drawn carriages and transport them into the mines over the course of two years. Then, stack them decoratively and make it a tourist attraction.

Sure, it's morbid and a little disconcerting, but you have to admit it's kind of cool. At the entrance is an inscription in Latin reading "Stop! Here lies the Empire of Death." You really can't imagine how many 6 million skeletons are until you see them piled many-bones high and many-bones deep.

The Catacombs aren't circular, so where you begin is not where you end up. We emerged out of a strangely nondescript exit on a residential side street. We figured we'd wander and stumble upon a good spot for lunch, but we quickly learned an important lesson about Paris (which I had forgotten since my last visit): It's expensive.

From what we saw, French meals started at about 15 euros and went up from there. Aside from the price, there was also the issue of not being able to read the menus in the non-touristy area we were in. So, like the vile Americans we are, we went to the only place we felt at home, McDonald's. Every time I eat there abroad I do so in shame, but a BigMac can fill me up for 6.50 euros, so it's a matter of economics, really. We vowed to eat at a French place the next day. (Later that night, our Christmas Eve meal was pizza and fries at a Middle Eastern pizzeria/crepes place.)

Christmas Eve in Paris.

Fortunately, entrance into Notre Dame was free. The place is beautiful, it really is, but on the scale of great European churches, it's not at the top of my list (read here if you want to hear me rave about the cathedral in Sevilla, Spain).

For Christmas Eve mass there, we showed up about 50 minutes early, waited in a cattle chute-like line and then headed in to take our seats about 3/4 of the way to the back. It was officially an "international mass," and we thought maybe there'd be a copy of everything in English. There wasn't. The mass program listed a couple of readings in English, and the Gospel was read in English, but aside from that, everything was French and Latin, neither of which I speak. We couldn't understand anything, really, but (mostly) everyone there shared a common belief and a common purpose, and we can all understand that, right?

The more impressive church, in my opinion, is the Sacre Couer Basilica in the trendy, artsy Montmarte district, and entrance to the main sanctuary is free there, too. (You can pay to go into the dome for better views, but the church steps have wonderful panoramas, and you don't have to spend a dime.)

I hadn't visited the Sacre Couer before, but once I saw pictures, I was kind of ashamed I hadn't heard of the place. How do you go to Paris and not realize there's a stunning white-domed basilica high on a hill, keeping watch over the city? I'm glad I made it there this time - and I have no complaints about the 400-some steps we climbed to get there.

We strolled through quirky Montmarte, through the ubiquitous Paris prints, postcards and tacky tourist bags. We found what, in our naive tourist eyes, seemed like a relatively authentic French restaurant offering two small courses and a dessert for 15 euros. We had promised ourselves to eat something like it, so we grabbed a table inside the tiny place. I had French onion soup for my first course, which was delicious. I ordered a chicken fillet with herbs for my second course, but the waitress messed up and brought me spaghetti instead. I didn't have the heart to point out the error. For dessert I had a crepe. So, I kind of ate French food...? Right? Right?

Way too cute.

Pardon this jolting transition that really isn't a transition at all: I really, really dislike art museums, so the Louvre's massiveness in and of itself gives me anxiety. But it's kind of sinful to go to Paris and skip one of the city's most iconic spots.

This doesn't even begin to capture Louvre's scale.

Even so, I would've committed that sin a second time (I didn't go there on my first Paris visit) had Todd not been influenced by his travel conscience - "I think I might regret not going in to see the Mona Lisa when I was so close." I've got no definitive proof, but my assumption is that, like me, many people go in there to see the Mona Lisa and some of Michelangelo's marble handiwork. The problem is that this crush of clueless tourists vying for position to view the Mona Lisa makes the place all the more miserable. The portrait is behind a wall of glass, so it feels distant, impersonal and institutional, quite frankly. If you like art, the Louvre has an amazing array of it and is without a doubt worth visiting. But if your primary motivation is seeing one of the most prized and famous paintings in the world, the 11 euro entrance fee is just too much.

What is worth your money, however, is the Eiffel Tower, even if it is cliche Paris. We took a 2-mile riverside stroll to see it at night, and it was worth every foot ache-inducing step.

The tower itself is stunning illuminated in yellow, and the same is true, too, for all of Paris. The city has an electricity at night - it's loud and alive and perhaps a bit obnoxious but in the most glorious sense of the word. A bit of hard-won wisdom regarding the Eiffel, though: Buy tickets in advance to skip the entrance lines.

That's all, folks.
Un saludo,
Teresa

Older and wiser (I think)

On the train between Bruges and Paris I looked through photos of my first trip to Paris, the one I took with a high school friend when I was an 18-year-old who'd barely been out of the Midwest and who'd never really traveled without an adult. I hadn't looked at them in years, but I remembered lots of people telling me how they lived my first European adventure along with me through my photos.

I was expecting to see some really good stuff. I'm not sure why, considering they were taken on a simple point-and-shoot and I lack anything resembling photography skills. Needless to say, I was disappointed. Instead of really focusing on the beauty of the place, I took pictures of girls in parachute pants and hotel wallpaper. You know, the typical weird, 18-year-old-isn't-this-so-funny-inside-jokes-are-awesome type stuff.

What an inspirational shot.

I'm 23 now, and I still take enough stupid photos for you and me both. But I like to think I'm a bit older and wiser this time around. I take photos of streets, scenery and landmarks straight-on, upside-down and backwards if I need to. As I said before, I'm not a particularly good photographer, and I still don't have a particularly good camera. But I've resolved to try to my best to capture what I'm seeing so that I can see it again just the same in 37 years.

My friend and I were in Paris last time for a couple of days. She and I launched a 48-hour tourist blitz on the city: the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, the Moulin Rouge and the Palace of Versailles. Today I read the emails I sent home during that trip and giggled at my totally unprofound, inarticulate teenage self. Some gems:

"[regarding buying train tickets] Anyway, when we were waiting in line we see these 5 French military men walked around the train station in uniform with guns (and this is not an exaggeration) the size of m16's on the front of them. It was scary. And they just stared us down the entire time they went up the escalator. Later, we saw 5 or 6 policeman with big guns on them too--not exactly the greatest first impression. After we got our tickets, we found the metro and started attempting to conquer that. It was much more difficult than London was. You have to buy metro tickets with coins apparently, they don't accept cash. so, after waiting in line for that we had to go attempt to get coins. So, I went to a little magazine shop in the station to ask for change in exchange for my cash. The cashier advised me to go to the toilets to get change. So, I did."

Snappy commentary from 23-year-old Teresa who's convinced she's smarter now: Overuse of simple sentences and chronological order. Also, I did not notice any sort of military presence this time around. And the Paris metro system is almost as basic as it gets. 

"In the [train] station there are a lot of beggars. They dress like the stereotypical gypsie. They approach you and ask if you speak English, and when you say you do, they give you a piece of paper begging you for money to support their family. I made the mistake of saying I spoke English the first time, but I learned my lesson and ignored them after that. There were gypsies everywhere outside of Notre Dame as well. They never tried to steal anything from me, but it was still somewhat frightening."

Commentary: Um, welcome to Europe? I didn't see the droves of beggars this time around, although I did have to tell Todd to stop responding to seemingly well-intentioned strangers when they approached him in the stations. 

"we got our tickets for the metro and found our hotel, which was nothing special but decent. The bed was hilariously small and the entire room was wallpapered and tiled (y es the walls were tiled). But the bathroom was nice, so it wasn't too bad."

Yet another wallpaper shot.

Commentary: Cheap hotels' bathrooms are always their most important selling points. Also, glad you learned quickly that Euro accommodations are generally Euro tiny.

"On the first day we went to the Eiffel and to the Arc de Triomphe. The Arc was very large, but there was a mililtary service or something of the sort going on so we couldn't get very close. But it was much larger than I expected, and of course I got pictures. I'm not sure what the Arc actually is (which I probably should've figured out before we went) but it was still impressive."

Commentary: I'd take back the "impressive" comment if I could. It's just an arch, really.

"I must say, the Eiffel is definitely worth seeing. It is absolutely massive. Prior to seeing it, I wouldn't have recommended ever visiting Paris, but the Eiffel is very neat. The very top was closed when we originally bought our tickets, so we just went to the second tier. Once we got up there, I had no desire to go any higher. It was already pretty darn high. The views of Paris from up there are absolutely amazing!! Paris is HUGE! Paris actually looked quite pretty from up there, because the buildings are so unique (just like from the movies) and you can't see all the poor people and graffiti. Speaking of graffiti, there is literally graffiti on EVERY building, I'm not even kidding.

Commentary: Yeah, all those poor people really bring a place down. Paris would be so much better if it were flooded with even more tourists jockeying for position to snap photos on their fancy Canons. Also, either Paris cleaned up its act since 2008 or I was blind this time around because I didn't see much graffiti. But the Eiffel was as cool as ever.

"Paris subways are pretty dirty and dark, whereas London's are all very bright, clean and they're mostly very large stations with escalators everywhere. Paris is mostly stairs, which gets difficult after a while."

Commentary: I'm an 18-year-old with the incredible opportunity to visit Paris and I complain about having to take the stairs? 

"[regarding Versailles] The palace is very ornate and historical. There is horribly tacky gold everywhere, but the views of outside are beautiful. The gardens are gorgeous. I have quite a few pictures of that, I think."

Commentary: No, Teresa, actually you don't. But for good measure, you made sure you got a close-up of your and your friend's faces.

 "We went shopping for a bit after Notre Dame, and then we went to check out the Louvre. Mom, Les, and Stac---that place is absolutely GINORMOUS! I can't imagine how horrible it would've been to go in there and see ALL that art ;) I took 3 videos of it to show you guys just how huge it really it. It's a very neat building on the outside, I must admit, but I think I can leave without ever seeing what lives inside."

Commentary: I went to the Louvre on my most recent visit, and I can tell you that what lives inside is an overwhelming crush of oil paintings and marble statues and the underwhelming Mona Lisa.

Sorry for all the sarcasm. It's just easy to make fun of myself. I'll share my poignant observations of Paris 2012 in my next post. Then in another five years you can read my even-wiser 28-year-old self's sharp-tongued remarks.

Un saludo,
Teresa

Brussels

Brussels started out terribly. It was raining, bitterly cold and as gray as gray skies get. The directions provided by the hotel were abysmal: "easy to get to on public transportation." Really? The tourist office told us how to get there using the metro (it is, in fact, easy to get to the stop that's near the place), but they didn't tell us what to do after we exited the subway. So what did we do? We emerged and wandered aimlessly, angrily in the rain. We asked a couple of clueless people where to go. I even went to the police station, where the officer told me the hotel "was very near. Just go to the main street and ask some people."

It was cold. It was wet. And it was miserable. What an introduction, Brussels.

Once we finally made it to the hotel, we got comfortable in our tiny-but-tidy room. We slept off the grumpies, peeled ourselves out of bed by late afternoon and went to the Grand Place, the city's main square, to check out the Christmas market that wound through Brussels' old core.

I couldn't get very good pictures because it was dark and rainy, sadly.

Hats. Scarves. Ornaments. Gluhwein (hot spiced wine). Potato dishes. Waffles (I paid 6.50 euros - about $8.70 - for one waffle covered in chocolate, whipped cream and strawberries, but it's not a trip to Belgium without a waffle, right?). Hot chocolate. Sausages. Hamburgers. Decor. Beer. And everything in between. It was sensory overload, with the sounds of music and banter, the smells of the food and the lights strung everywhere. It was packed - too packed, really. We kept getting hit by umbrellas as we weaved through the crowd.

But it was oh so worth it. The Grand Place was one of the most impressive European plazas I've seen, and I've seen a decent share. Sadly, we only had time to see it at night, as we set off for Paris early the next morning. With an iPhone and a compact camera, nighttime isn't conducive to quality photography, but we did our best.

The Grand Place has an inexplicable charm about it. The baroque and gothic architecture is ornate but not obnoxious. The square is big but not overwhelming. It's detailed but not tacky. It's a shame I couldn't see it in the daylight. Here's what Google Images says it looks like:

 

Un saludo,
Teresa

Stumped

Here in Spain, I really try not to be an ethnocentric American. The first lesson in any cultural sensitivity training is to avoid comparing a new country to your homeland; don't use words such as "better," "worse" and "downright weird." Accept practices that you may find peculiar as endearing eccentricities rather than character flaws. 

That's all fine and dandy, but I've been wrangling with what I refer to as "the Spanish bathroom situation" for a while now. There's rarely toilet paper, there's often no soap, and it's not unusual for toilets to lack seats. Generally, I make it work with the the scant resources provided and a spritz of creativity. 

There aren't seats in all of the stalls in the women's bathrooms at my school (yes, for anyone who's a regular reader, I've been using the ladies' rooms since "the unfortunate misunderstanding"). Then, the other day I noticed this, outside the stall:

Am I supposed to take the seat off the wall, carry it in there and use it as a removable, auxiliary accessory? This is an honest question. 

(Sorry for the haphazard photo. I snapped it quickly before anyone noticed. Since "the unfortunate misunderstanding" I've been extra cautious with my bathroom behavior; don't want the teachers to think that's where I go to be weird.)

Un saludo, 

Teresa

Bruges

I've been on hiatus lately, doing what I do best: traveling. So, I haven't had much time to blog, but I've got a notebook packed with nonsensical scribbles and a scrap or two of worthwhile remarks. I'll try my best to share some coherent tales of my three whirlwind weeks of European travel; we'll see what I come up with.

My first stop was Bruges, a little fairytale land in northwest Belgium. It's a compact village, so a couple of days was plenty to see the whole place. We spent a lot of time roaming in and out of streets and shops (we stumbled upon Madame Mis - the spelling was something like that - a wonderful shop with a mix of new and vintage ceramics, hats, scarves and clothes), meanwhile admiring the Medieval stone buildings and quaint canal.

That's really all people go to Bruges for, to just look at it (they certainly don't go to enjoy the cold, gray, rainy, generally depressing winter weather). There's not much to do, really; Bruges is a place to experience by wandering rather than doing activities.

 

There are two sites that pretty much every Bruges tourist flocks to, though: the belfry in the main plaza and the Basilica of the Holy Blood, a 12th century church where, as the name indicates, Christ's blood is said to be preserved on a cloth in a vial. The basilica has regular venerations of the relic, but we didn't visit at the right time to see it. Regardless, the basilica, with its dark, peculiar exterior, is worth seeing.

Basilica of the Holy Blood

As advertised, the 366-step ascent to the top of the belfry (4 euros for visitors under 26, 8 euros otherwise) does get tiring and steep, especially when too many tourists pack into the stairway, but it's not terrible. For safety, only 70 people are allowed into the tower at a time, and that's plenty, although that means you'll likely have to wait for a good chunk of time to enter.

Source

For simplicity's sake, I'll leave it to Wikipedia to explain why the belfry is important:

"The belfry of Bruges, or Belfort, is a medieval bell tower in the historical centre of Bruges, Belgium. One of the city's most prominent symbols,^[1] the belfry formerly housed a treasury and the municipal archives, and served as an observation post for spotting fires and other danger. A narrow, steep staircase of 366 steps, accessible by the public for an entry fee,^[2] leads to the top of the 83-metre-high building, which leans about a metre to the east.
To the sides and back of the tower stands the former market hall, a rectangular building only 44 m broad but 84 m deep, with an inner courtyard. The belfry, accordingly, is also known as the Halletoren (tower of the halls).
The building is a central feature of the 2008 film In Bruges. ...
The belfry was added to the market square around 1240, when Bruges was prospering as an important centre of the Flemish cloth industry. After a devastating fire in 1280, the tower was largely rebuilt. ...
The bells in the tower regulated the lives of the city dwellers, announcing the time, fire alarms, work hours, and a variety of social, political, and religious events. Eventually a mechanism ensured the regular sounding of certain bells, for example indicating the hour."

Rising above the city's main square, the belfry does offer spectacular panoramic views, but they're blocked by wire safety netting that ruins photos and the real-life beauty of what you're seeing. Although it's one of the most iconic sites in Bruges, the belfry isn't a must-visit, in my opinion, if you're short on time.

The view, captured by putting the camera through the safety netting.

You should defnitely visit the square and see it from the outside, however. While you're there, be sure to order some of the delicious stoofleez (beef stewed in beer and poured on fries) at one of the two frites stands just outside the belfry entrance. We paid 8 euros for a dish of it - twice - and it was worth every cent.

YUM.

Belgium is known for a few other ubiquitous delights: waffles, beer and chocolate. I was impressed with the latter two, although my lack of excitement regarding the waffles should be taken with a grain of salt because I bought them at a stand in a Brussels Christmas market, so I'm not sure I tasted proper Belgian waffles.

The beer, though, was superb. Thanks to a recommendation in our Use-it map (witty, youth-focused maps made for tourists by locals), we headed to 't Poatersgat beer cellar at around 7:20 one evening. It's a really cool place, full of stone and vintage, shabby chic decor. A waiter came over to us and said De Koninck beer, brewed in Antwerp, was free throughout the live band's performance (they were hired by the brewery). So, we hung out, drank seven free fabulous Belgian beers while listening to an incredible ensemble of cello, guitar and accordion. Can't complain about that.

I can't complain about the chocolate, either, although I wouldn't say I was blown away by it. But who am I to judge? I've rarely met a piece of chocolate I didn't like, so...

Until next time...Un saludo,
Teresa