Paris (France)
19 SEP 2014
You know that buzz that inhabits
your body the day after you’ve done something particularly cool, or that sense
of satisfaction that you get from achieving a goal? That was me, at that very
moment. I’d woken up mid- early morning to a very foreign, yellow hued glow
coming from the streetlights along the Seine, cheekily breaking their way
through the sheer window curtains of the apartment. Completely uninvited of
course, but its Parisian light and the standard rules for courtesy don’t seem
to apply here in the manner and style that they do elsewhere. I do however like these
moments when in a foreign city. Laying
in silence and listening to the sound of a solitary vehicle making its way up
Quai de Montebllo, I imagined it to be cutting through the early morning tug-a-war
between synthetic light and shadow. I tuned in on both its arrival and
departure from two floors above its transit line. It’s funny, but in eternal
quiet you never really capture the solitude and isolation of what that silence actually
means until it’s actually broken. It’s why I liked that particular moment, I
was alone, ‘somewhere else’ in this world that wasn’t home, and to me that’s
always an exciting prospect.
If both the lesson and
achievement of day before was the execution of a surprise then today was going
to be the realisation of my own piece of destiny. To quote a saying that my mother often
spruikes , ‘It’s not to whom it is said
or written, but rather, to whom it is destined’. Only now, looking back do I know that I was
never going to obtain that ever elusive ticket to the World Cup final in Rio,
nor was I ever going to have an afternoon in the sun-bathed vineyards of Saint-Émilion, even though the plans had been set, it
appears that my destiny was always going to be act as Parisian tour guide for
my parents and to find myself on a
somewhat impossible first date with a gorgeous girl that I’d met in Riga just
the once 4 years ago. Some stories you just can’t create, not without the
intervention of fate.
19 Quai de Montebello - sunlight breaking through - Latin Quarter - Paris - France
The lonely solemn streets of a Parisian dawn quickly turn into fervour,
induced completely by the banal necessity of daily Parisian life. The intense
noise of city streets in the morning have the tendency to annoy me, well, annoy me
when I’m still in a muted slumber. It’s the not due to the volume of noise
either but rather its weight and intensity. The energy and earnestness, the
urgency and eagerness, the implied anger and frustrations, somehow there’s a
transference of that irritable energy to me and I always feel compelled to
ditch my intentions and get moving.
Cutting through the backstreets
of the Latin Quarter I fell back into my earlier mood of excitement and exhilaration.
These backstreets were still empty, yet
to be tapped on the door by the streams of sunlight that had already cut across
the continent from the far east. Here,
in these small hours, I could still own snapshots of this day that nobody else in the world would ever see but me. That’s
cool.
Something for me - Rue Galande - Latin Quarter - Paris - France
Coming to rest in the living room
of #42 Rue de la Harpe, I stuck my head out the window and gazed at what I
could only assume to be the typical Parisian setting in this part of town.
French style architecture bounding small medieval type streets, filled with
false French balconies that more often than not supported pots filled with
colourful flowers. I just sat there for a few moments to appreciate to vista.
Then I heard the laboured movements of my parents coming from their bedroom, attempting
to stir themselves into daily existence.
Outlook from #42 Rue de la Harpe - Latin Quarter - Paris - France
The disbelief of the night before
was still very much with us, along with the continued questioning of how I
managed to pull off the stunt. Dad kept repeating that he was certain ‘Up until the last Skype conversation’
that I was on my way to Paris for an ‘intercept’, thankfully that conversation
convinced him otherwise.
Black coffee, croissants and the
smoke of my mums’ cigarettes filled the quaint Parisian apartment. I think it
was one of those rare times when I could handle her cigarette smoke, and even
considered it charming in the given setting. Enjoying the conversation of the
morning I outlined our plans for the day, ‘Tour
of the Eiffel tower in the morning, afternoon lunch, open top bus tour, then
finally a dinner cruise on the Seine’. It sounded like full-time work from
the start but something that I always get a lot of pleasure out of doing, which
is, seeing the enjoyment and surprise in the faces of the people that I love
when they discover a new place.
Parisian breakfast - Rue de la Harpe - Latin Quarter - Paris - France
Rue de la Harpe - Latin Quarter - Paris - France
Your 'breakfast cliche', brought to you by Paris - France
As our taxi cut through the
mid-morning fracas of traffic on Quai Voltaire and turned left onto Pont de la
Concorde I could see that there was visible
disbelief in the faces of my parents. Disbelief from the fact that they were
actually in Paris and disbelief that I was undertaking such a mundane task of
catching a cab with them, in Paris too! In their minds I was still back in
Sydney doing ‘who knows what’, and yet here I was, occupying one of the jump
seats just as the cab pulled up to the Palais de Chaillot which overlooks the
Jardins du Trocadero.
On its own the gardens of the
Trocadero are impressive in their grandeur but the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ that you hear
from the top of the stairs of the Trocadero are always reserved for the
centrepiece of the French capital, the Eiffel tower.
Mum and dad at the Palais de Chaillot - Paris - France
The Eiffel Tower taken from above the Jardins du Trocadero - Paris - France
Eiffel tower - Paris - France
As iconic as a building can be I
would challenge anyone to name a structure that identifies a city and country
more readily than the tower. All of its impressive 301mtrs of stature can be
viewed from the steps of the Palais de Chaillot, apparently a fair rarity in
this city. It’s a funny thing, but after seeing their reaction and remembering my
own when I first saw the Eiffel tower, I recall that I only truly realised that
I was in Paris after I had seen the tower with my own eyes. So to say that the
Eiffel tower ‘is’ Paris would not be any sort of grand overstatement.
.
After finding our tour guide only
at the very last moment we all made our way down through the Jardins du
Trocadero and to the base of the structure. Now it was time for a dose of
reality. Whereas standing from afar and appreciating the tower can be lesson in
awe, the crowds of hungry tourists waiting for their own piece of Eiffel can be
a lesson in ‘necessary patience’. From ground to level 2, from level 2 to
summit, your space is constantly occupied by ‘unwanted’ clients who may have
more vigour and purpose in their ascent than you. Still, this is Paris, and
this is what you do ‘ the first time around’. So when we all reached the summit
and cast our eyes on what really is a grand city, we allowed ourselves to
indulge in three ‘chilled glasses of cliché’ and appreciated the over-priced
champagne at the none-too creatively named Bar
a champagne that occupied the rooftop of Paris. Still, it will always be
one of those fond moments that will be easily retrievable from the memory
banks.
Champ de Mars from the Eiffel Tower
'Tower shadows' - Paris - France
'Smile for the cliche' - Champagne at 'Bar a Champagne' - Eiffel Tower summit - Paris - France
Looking down the Seine from the summit of the Eiffel Tower
Our afternoon was spent back in
the heart of the Latin Quarter where we pulled up a few chairs for a late
afternoon lunch at a fairly typical bistro. I was still hoping also that Air
France was going to ‘express courier’ my lost luggage in the afternoon and
wanted to be within striking distance should they have considered it time to do
work that afternoon, of course I need not have bothered! My luggage wasn’t
delivered until 2:30AM on the morning that I was scheduled to leave. An
absolutely pathetic performance from Air France from start to finish! Devoid of
customer service, completely shambolic in both their approach and treatment of
me, it was the worst dealing I’ve had with an airline in all my time
travelling.
.
.
As another glorious Parisian day
started to wind down and those familiar sunburnt hues started to occupy the rooftops
of the buildings in the Latin Quarter once again, I sat in front of the large
French windows that provided a wonderful outlook over the Seine, directly in
front of Notre Dame and the Place Jean-Paul II,
within touching distance of ‘point
zero des routes France’, in other words the ‘official centre of Paris’. I
marvelled just quietly at how lucky I’d been with the weather thus far.
Checking ALL forecasts prior to arrival I had anticipated the worst that Paris
could offer with cloud, rain and heavy thunderstorms projected for ALL days.
Here I was, nearing the end of my second full day and already I had had several
randoms comment to me how unseasonably warm and spectacular the weather was.
Indeed, if I could have placed through my own request to Mother Nature asking
for the days that we actually ended up receiving then I’m sure the trade-off
would have required the sale of a kidney.
As the lights of Paris started to
take hold, all three of us were picked up on Rue de la Harpe for our Seine
dinner cruise on the Bateux Parisiens. This was to be an absolutely wonderful
3-4hr boat cruise which gave us the chance to view some of the highlights of
Paris along the Seine, with a more than adequate four course meal and
champagne/wine to place us in exactly
the right type of mood. Making its way effortlessly up the left bank, the
remaining sunlight relinquished its authority of the day and gave in to the
artificial light of the night that admittedly was even more impressive. Gazing
out from our glass cacoon we witnessed the grand sights of Paris silently move
through our frame of vision, a kaleidoscope of colour on the water. Ducking
under more than a hatful of the total 32 bridges that span the Seine, by the
time we had reached Notre Dame my mind had fully started to occupy the space of
that I was dedicating to where I would be at midnight, because as you know, all
great first dates commence in Paris at midnight! (Of course ;)).I looked up to
the apartment that I had left earlier in the afternoon and knew that by now she
had arrived, now I just has that internal urgency to be there right at this
moment. I wasn’t at all nervous however, just extremely excited.
Bateux Parisians - On the Seine - Paris - France
Bateux Parisians - On the Seine - Paris - France
Bateux Parisians - On the Seine - Paris - France
Bateux Parisians - On the Seine - Paris - France
An hour or two later we rounded
Ile aux Cygnes after having our ‘cup runneth over’ with spectacular views of
the tower lit up at night. It really is a sight to behold, although you
definitely have the tendency of taking more photos than are really necessary.
By the time we docked and were underway through the Parisian night my head was
already trying to picture a moment, a face, an instant that I (we) had now been
in the planning for 6 months, all the while, attempting to retrieve images of
an evening in Riga that occurred 4yrs ago. So by the time I took the walk from
Rue de la Harpe to Quai de Montebello I was ready, buzzing internally.
Bateux Parisians - On the Seine - Paris - France
The Eiffel Tower from the Seine
The Eiffel Tower from the Seine
Making it to street level at 19
Quai de Montebello I entered in the two pin numbers that gave me access to the
building and made my way up to the 2nd floor, heart pounding just a
little more frequently. Reaching for the keys and turning the door, I saw that
lights had been dimmed, and there she was, sitting against the window with the
lights of Notre Dame illuminating her frame and acting as her backdrop.
I looked at her...
…and she smiled
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