Basically, we took the high-speed train to Paris and checked into our hotel with no hiccups. Sounds straightforward and simple, doesn't it? Well yes and no. It's all the logistical stuff that gets me tired. We had to find the right train platform (the Amsterdam train station is not as easy to navigate as Munich) and find the right coach (you have reserved seats on the Thalys train). On arrival, we had to find the entrance to the Metro, figure out how to use the ticket machine, figure out which Metro line to take and which stop to get off on, figure out which Metro platform we needed to wait on, and then figure out which set of stairs to go up once we got off and which direction to start walking to get to the hotel. Whew. Nothing went wrong but there were thousands of people in the train station, the Metro station, and on the Paris streets so by the time we got into our room I was tired. I guess I am feeling my age.
Our hotel is dinky (we are in Paris, after all), but the decor is all black and mauve and grey and definitely cool, and we even have a tree-shaded balcony with 2 chairs and a little table. The bathroom is tres tres moderne although my shoulders almost touch the walls when I stand in front of the sink brushing my teeth.
We are located on the left bank at Saint Michel, about 3 blocks from Notre Dame, 5 blocks from the Louvre, 3 blocks from the Pont Neuf bridge. It's a perfect location. In fact I am sitting on the hotel rooftop terrace watching the lights on the Eiffel Tower, about a 20-30 minute walk away. I am really in Paris, indeed.
The next day was our first full sightseeing day so we started out at a respectable10:00 AM and had croissants and coffee at a nearby outdoor cafe. I mean, isn't it obligatory to have a croissant at least once in Paris? The night before we had French onion soup with dinner--just going through the list of must-eat items. So far the brasserie waiters have been quite friendly, contrary to my expectations.
That's a nice surprise. I do have to admit that after wracking our brains to remember how to say 'please' in French, going through English-Spanish-German and then giving up, we had to ask our waiter and then felt immensely dumb. But honestly, at this point we've been dealing with too many languages for our little brains.
As a side note, the entertainment during breakfast was watching several different cars trying to park in a space that was half the size of a shoe box. The 4th car to try actually got in--there were only about 3 inches in front and back of her car--really. We almost stood up and applauded.
We bought tickets to the hop-on-hop-off bus that has 4 different routes that loop around Paris and over 50 stops. We rode the bus on 2 of the routes--a total of 3.5 hours of seeing wonderfully familiar sights come alive before our eyes. As a result we have modified our no-museum decision and plan to go see some of the impressionist paintings in a couple of days. That, and some wandering down narrow streets with interesting shops, and a stop for a substantial late lunch (too full for dinner now), comes to a full day for us. And by the way, for those of you who are keeping score on the number of times I complain about the weather, it has been absolutely perfect in Paris--sunny and 73 degrees with a cool breeze.
I must say that even if I was dying to go up the Eiffel Tower or go into the Louvre, for example, I would have changed my mind after today. The lines were unpleasantly long and the number of people milling around was off-putting. Summer has clearly arrived. Even last week in Amsterdam we noticed the sudden invasion (dare I say explosion?) of tour groups and clumps of young people wearing backpacks. Navigating down the sidewalks is getting to be an Olympic class sport and today I had a child behind me ram himself against the back of my knees, causing me to teeter a bit. I stopped stock still and the mother gave me one of those "what's the matter with you?" looks. I tried to return an indignant old lady look.
World Cup soccer continues. Algeria played last night and won. We kept track of the score by counting each time we heard cheers echoing through the streets. Although the French don't go soccer-nuts in their clothing and outdoor decorations (they are much more cool than the Dutch in that respect) they cheer just as loudly.
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