Barcelona to Paris

June 14, 2009

The cruise ended today, but instead of going home, we went to Paris.

The first thing I noticed about the woman sitting next to me in the Barcelona airport was her sparkly shoes. I thought maybe she didn’t need to get on a flight, she could just click her heels and say “there’s no place like home” a few times. Next thing I noticed is that she was sewing up the fly of her pants with a needle and thread. In the middle of the terminal. While she was wearing them. So, yeah, people-watching was pretty fun today while we waited hours and hours for our plane.

We finally got on our flight to Orly, France around 7 PM. The landing was so bumpy, the whole plane (save myself) erupted into cheers and applause once we were safely on the ground. I rather thought an admonishment would be in order. When the pilot lands the plane extra-smoothly, then I will clap. But we survived, so my vacation was not ruined after all.

Once again, there was no security or customs or uniformed personnel of any kind anywhere to be seen as we got off the flight. Not that we wanted the scrutiny, but darn it, this passport is not going to stamp itself!

We sat in traffic most of the way to the center of Paris. The taxi driver explained (may have been after several dozen questions from me) that many people in Paris have second homes in the country and Sunday night is when they all come back to the city for the weekdays to work.

We finally got to an adorable boutique hotel in the center of Paris right off the Seine, quite close to the Notre Dame cathedral. Last time we were here, we stayed in a very traditional hotel with a French-Provencal feel. This time, we went kind of funky and modern at the recommendation of our credit card concierge service. The room we got is art-deco with a cool black and white patterned wall and a bright lime green bedspread and accents. It is a bit sparse on the amenities, but it’s got that, how the French say “je ne sais quoi.” I believe the translation is, “crappy amenities.”

We carted our bags upstairs (no elevator) a charming spiral staircase that looks great, but would be a challenge to even the most coordinated. And I can’t pretend I count myself among them. We got ourselves situated, but graceful it was not.

We’ve been to Paris before, so this time we thought we’d take it slow, not try to fit too much in. That’s what we said. But really it just goes against our nature. As soon as we put our bags down, we decided to get back out and grab a romantic meal and go watch the Eiffel Tower light up as it turned to dusk. I told Dean the romantic part of that plan would be much better facilitated if he would not insist on referring to dinner as “chow.”

We tried French-Chinese food, a first for us, and a great surprise. It was delicious. I heard the woman who was taking our order switch through several different languages with other patrons and I had to ask her, how many did she speak? Five! And not even related ones. Mandarin, French, English, Spanish, and I forgot the last one. All I can speak is English, and even then, only snarkily. If I were her, I’d quit my job at the restaurant and go work at the U.N.

Quite a few tourists were around the Eiffel Tower, taking pictures and relaxing on the grass. I took seventy five pictures at least as the sky grew darker and the tower lit up. We crossed the river where Dean thrilled himself by finding the same crepe stand he had a crepe from three years ago. We walked along the Seine for a little and took the metro back to the hotel. TV didn’t work. This would never fly in the U.S. Everyone knows Americans can’t function without TV.

But we fell asleep easily to the soft sounds of city life through the window, looking forward to tomorrow.