This summer, I had the great fortune to embark on a trip to Europe. I thought I'd share some of my photos and anecdotes with you as inspiration -- either for your writing or your next big trip or maybe just a little escape from the everyday scenery. Today I'll talk my time in Paris, but you can check out my post about Amsterdam for Part 1 of my adventure! (Psst! If you're interested, you can also check out my trip to New Orleans or my trip to Amelia Island this year. We also have a Travel tag on the blog if you want to stay tuned to our editors' adventures around the world!)
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Ah, Paris. City of Lights and chocolate mousse and Shakespeare and Co. bookstore and thousands of other lovely little things. This is my second time visiting Paris, and I'd say that I got closer to the heart of my experience this time around. Have you seen the movie "Midnight in Paris"? It's the movie that really sparked my interest in Old Paris -- Paris of the Lost Generation. Since, I've read Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, and become obsessed with the Fitzgeralds, and all around fallen in love with the history of this extraordinary city. So, naturally the theme song for "Midnight in Paris" is playing now, as it was playing in my head during my trip. Youtube video below so that you might put yourself in the proper frame of mind.
Good. Now we're ready. As of this moment, you and I are going to wander down the streets of Paris in my memory. We'll visit my Top 10 favorite things I saw.
1. It's a lovely night for a stroll. Let's go see the Eiffel Tower, shall we?
I'd seen the Eiffel Tower before, but never like this -- at night. It's a completely different experience and one that I'd demand you have if you visit Paris. It's like all the stars descended on this tower for a little while. You know it's just fancy lights but it's also goddamn magic. I will add some reality to the situation and say that the walk to and from the tower to our Air BnB was acute and intense misery. The scars I have from those blisters will be with me for awhile. But I remember the blisters less than the Eiffel Tower so I suppose I can forgive me father for forcing me to trudge the miles in terrible walking shoes without warning.
2. Notre Dame Cathedral
The morning after seeing the Eiffel Tower, finding the Air BnB apartment hidden away in a little courtyard, and settling into the unbelievably creaky but very, very French living space, I woke up (I think understandably) grumpy. I nursed my substantial blisters and resentment through a cold fend-for-yourself breakfast of cheese (from Amsterdam), chocolate (Amsterdam again), and a baguette (Obviously French). With rain in the forecast, we headed out to see Notre Dame.
Through my grumpiness and exhaustion, I did appreciate Notre Dame. How could I not? It's truly a masterpiece, and historically fascinating. But I wanted to appreciate it alone and without commentary, which made me a terrible traveling companion. Hey, vacation isn't all perfect Instagrams and immaculate outfits. (Though I admittedly put much effort into both of those things.)
I love the interior of the Cathedral the best simply because the quality of light is so unexpected after the stoney exterior. Stained glass never looks as remarkable from a distance. It's one of the art forms you need to be inside of to marvel at. I'm not terribly religious, but stained glasses feel like prayer to me. I understand why the cathedral is holy.
In particular, Notre Dame is visually full of surprises. Everywhere you look, and every time you encounter it, there is something new. The back is so different from the front is so different from the inside. I think it has something to do with the nature of the architecture of ornate detailing.
And of course, how I can I forget the flowers? Huge, pillowy roses hung heavy all around the back of the cathedral. I haven't seen live roses like that before. They're really something.
3. Shakespeare and Company Bookstore
Oh, be still my heart. I stumbled into a little piece of heaven after we finished viewing Notre Dame and the Archeological Crypt underneath. I walked around like in a dream. It was so perfect, so much the bookstore of my imagination, that it was an entirely surreal experience. Throw in the fact that I was walking up staircases that Hemingway and Fitzgerald and Joyce frequented, and I was catatonic. Literally incapable of speaking to anyone. I had just come from a cathedral and understood why it was considered holy, but this was my religious experience.
Praise be to Sylvia Beach for creating this magical place. Books everywhere, from floor to ceiling. All kinds of books, used and new. The shop was deeper than it looked and both narrow and wide depending on where you were. And all the walls were books. Who even needs walls anymore, seriously?! Shouldn't all walls just be bookcases?! I spotted a staircase with a sign that said "poetry" and drifted toward it.
And here, before we go any farther, I have to make a confession. The store asks you not to take photos so as to not disturb your fellow shoppers. (Not everyone wants to star in your Instagram posts, right? It's a small space, so nearly impossible not to accidentally get someone in there if you're trying to capture the full effect.) Here's my confession: I took a few photos. I know, I know. Terrible. I have so much respect for this store, but it was so beautiful that I needed to remember the little details and I was sleepwalking at this point and couldn't count on myself. Anyway, if any employee reads this post, I am so, so sorry to be "that tourist".
Okay, on to the staircase. I started walking up, but then I noticed the stairs had words on them. Of course the stairs had words on them. I backed up and actually teared up. Seriously, the fact that this place exists is comforting to me. Can you have faith in a bookstore? Because I do. I really do.
The really wonderful thing about Shakespeare & Co. is that it hosts book-loving travelers among the shelves. Seriously, there are little cushioned areas amid the books where people can crash overnight. And everywhere that isn't covered with books is covered with mementos from visitors paying homage or saying thank you for the place to sleep. If I had the chance to sleep in this store, I would not sleep because I would be up all night trying to memorize every dazzling detail of this place.
Anyway, even if you're not staying overnight, there are plenty of nooks for writers to stash themselves away and get to work. There's a little booth-like nook in particularly that I spent some time in. There was a typewriter and the entire space was covered in notes, poems, pictures, drawings, stories, messages, inspiration, doodles, shopping lists, old candy wrappers, etc. No one could see me in there and I might have shed a tear or two because my brain was broken and unable to accept the unfairness of only having an hour or two to spend in this place.
Aside from all this, I do have to mention one room in particular. Then we'll move on, promise. The room that preserved much of Sylvia Beach's original collection. The windows were open and the breeze was fresh after the rain. There was an incredibly beautiful young writer at work typing at a desk and there were so many old, old books. I tried to touch as many as possible with the knowledge that a writer that I idolize had likely held the same book in his/her hands or at least bumped their fingers against it reaching for another.
As a writer, there's this sense of being an intellectual descendant of other writers. For me, the Lost Generation is a huge influence. And being in this space was like reaching back in time to them. In fact, time was completely suspended for me. It's truly somewhere timeless. There are deeper roots than heritage and blood.
And that's all I'll say. I'm still sorting through the rest.
But of course I bought books.
4. Montmartre
I stumbled outside to find my family waiting for me. I don't actually know how I long I was in there, but coming outside was like waking up. One quick ride on the subway later, and we were ascending a very steep staircase up to Montmartre. In fact, the stairs were much steeper than I remembered them. But the view was even better than I remembered it, so I supposed it all evened out.
Basilique du SacrΓ© CΕur was my first view. And it's gorgeous, but when you turn around you stop breathing for a second. Which is really difficult to do because you're panting from walking up the stairs. So overall it's a painful but also amazing moment. Paris is just spread out underneath this hill like a blanket of buildings and people and hundreds of little cafes with thousands of eclairs and espressos and macarons.
This is me admiring the view from the steps of the Basilique:
Also, at this point it's very important that we make a soundtrack switch. On Montmartre, La Vie en Rose was playing in my head. I should mention I also love the Rat Pack and old jazz and that whole era. (Of course, if you read my New Orleans post you can hear me wax poetic on jazz for awhile longer.)
After the view, we wandered around Montmartre for awhile, among the artists and the cafes. I had a terrible crepe and a ridiculously good macaron. Street performers and musicians played in the square. Artists tried to convince you to let them sketch you -- for a fee, of course. Music boxes played from every shop, and it was such lovely chaos. There's a reason this is where all the artists and writers came to hang out. It's everything you've ever heard and also so much more. On the way down I took a polaroid of an incredible graffiti painting of a woman. There are few better ways to spend an afternoon.
5. Up, up, up the Eiffel Tower.
Of course, we went back to the Eiffel Tower. We still had to go up to the top. We chose dusk as the time to do this, and won the lottery on the wait-time to get to the top. (FYI, usually you're waiting in line for a loooooooong time.) Seeing as I have a fear of heights, this was a curse and a blessing. The ascension (worst part) was over quickly. But it was still pretty terrifying and I had less time to prepare myself than I would have liked.
Admittedly, it was worth it. While we were there, France was hosting the Eurocup finals and a game was happening far down below. It was so loud that I could hear the relentless chorus of vuvuzelas
from down below. Think about that for a second. Yeah, that's insane. By the time we started heading down, it was dusky and the crowds had started to thin out. Time seems to progress differently up there -- everything goes faster and slower.
6. Giverny
Alright, the next two will be cheating bit because they aren't in Paris. BUT they are just outside of Paris and were both incredible experience, so now we'll take a brief journey outside the city. First: Giverny, home of Claude Monet and the secret garden to end all secret gardens. Another religious experience to add to the books. I had dreamed of visiting Giverny for years. To actually be able to reach out and brush the flowers and window frame of Monet's house was incredible.
The glorious thing about Monet's house was that every room was dominated by a different color. There was a yellow dining room, a blue kitchen. It was both mad and magical. Do places this perfect even exist anymore? I don't know how much I was breathing, so I remember being pretty light-headed through all this.
The amount of beautiful things to see was agonizing.
Of course, the Water Lilies were chief among the things I wanted to see while I was in Giverny. What a moment it was. I couldn't tell if I was happy or sad and I think that was about right.
7. The Palace of Versailles
Again, not in Paris. But obviously this deserves to be on the list. This palace is the definition of decadence. In a way, it's terrifying to believe people actually lived there. It's a relief that it's a museum now. It's so vast and unnecessary and beautiful.
And of course, the history. I'm always very aware of my feet and the path I am wandering in places like this. Who else has stood where I am standing? What were they thinking? Were they also looking out this window just after it had rained? It's a minor obsession of mine.
The air is absolutely thick with the history of movement through these spaces. You can feel the past brush up against you so palpably. And the amount of details there are to notice and process and photograph and write about makes this a writer's dream.
8. The Louvre
Back to Paris. After our long day adventuring outside of the city, we returned and visited The Louvre. You can't leave without paying a visit to this spectacular museum, but be warned: it's insanity. The huge increase in tourism has made it a little overwhelming sometimes, especially around the Mona Lisa. This is OK as long as you're prepared for it. Not surprisingly, I don't have many superb shots of the most popular artwork at The Louvre.
Of course, I like to think this helped me to focus on the other artwork in this grand museum which is just as deserving of my attention. I'll share a few snapshots from my wandering in the museum:
There's the lovely Venus de Milo. Whom I had to photograph from behind and on an upward angle because she is quite popular with the tourists. But I like this shot more for being a little unconventional.
Okay, yes there's some side-eye at selfie sticks in that caption. I'm sorry, but I can't hide my distaste for them. Especially in an art museum. I read about someone knocking over a priceless statue while trying to take a selfie with it the other day. Tragic. Why does your face need to be in every photo of art anyway?? Fight the urge, people. Fight the urge. Look at the art and absorb it. Don't look at it like a trophy to stick next to your face.
End rant.
Cour Marley is a great place to take a breather and get a little fresh air. The whole courtyard is marble and there's more air movement in there. Plus, it's not that crowded so it's a nice spot to pull over and collect yourself before diving back into the halls of The Louvre.
Oh, and the marble statues are fantastic. That goes without saying.
So, you could give me a year to spend wandering The Louvre and it wouldn't be enough. But it does make for a fine day.
9. Musee d'Orsay
In the same day, I visited Musee d'Orsay, another huge place on my to-do list. This was a week after the Seine had overflowed and caused flooding. The river was still quite high, and it was raining. As we hopped around puddles, we watched the Seine hustle along. As rainy days go, it was a rather nice one.
We entered the museum, which used to be a train station, and headed to the top floor where the big collection of Impressionist art is located. There's a big clock face here right when you get to the top. It's lovely.
I'll share some works I saw there without much commentary -- it doesn't need much explaining. I really loved the quiet nature of this museum. It's definitely worth a visit if you have the time.
10. MISC. (AKA I'm cheating and want to show you three other quick things.)
Because what would Paris be without the little details?!
A. Dessert
OH MY GOD THIS WAS AN INCREDIBLE THING. We basically had little to no idea what we were ordering and I nearly died when they set this down. It was better than you're imagining. Trust me. I'm still not over it.
B. Love Locks
Duh. I had to snap a picture of at least one cluster of Love Locks on the bridges in Paris.
C. Moulin Rouge
Last, but by no means least. This is a show I will never, ever, EVER forget. If you go to Paris, try to do this. You will be blown away and also there will be a lot of bare breasts and innuendo and glitter and shiny things and gorgeous people and singing and roller skating and champagne. It's an experience. There were also bunch of small red lamps that reminded me of the Red Light distract, but I couldn't photograph them. So here's the outside of this iconic establishment:
I hope you enjoyed this little adventure through Paris. It's by no means exhaustive. The beauty of Paris is the atmosphere and the history and the vibes. It's a city with charm and a lot to offer the tireless visitor. Stay tuned for the last city I visited during my vacation this summer: London. And then of course, the many more adventures I've had in the Fall.
Never stop exploring, friends. There's too much to see in this world.
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