People Watching

When visiting Paris for the first time - or any country I should imagine - the best tactic is to stand back and watch when you’re not sure about something. This proved to be an invaluable strategy on the Metro, where everything was confusing for the first time. For example, in London you have to validate your ticket when you enter and when you leave stations; in Paris, you only validate on the way in. When you leave, you’re faced with tall metal doors and I had no clue what the deal was with getting through them. All I could do was stand back and watch what everyone else did, and of course it was simple - the doors are automatic and you just walk through.

Unfortunately, my strategy didn’t work quite so well tonight. So far, all the Metro trains that I’ve used have been of the sparkly new variety, but when I got one to the Seine, it was an old train with manual handles - like the old slam-door trains we used to have in the UK. I was fine getting on, I just made sure that I stood by someone else on the platform and tried to watch how they opened the doors. Alas, I obviously picked an expert illusionist because I didn’t see a thing. I only had to travel two stops and all the while I was appraising the door, trying to figure out how the horribly complex-looking latch is released. When my stop came, nobody else in the carriage moved to get off; maybe they were all foreign tourists, trying to work out how the bloody doors worked. I couldn’t bring myself to be the idiot who tried, so I continued to the next stop… and STILL nobody got off. I was travelling further and further into the city and further away from the Seine. Finally, I had no choice but to pluck up the courage and, having gone five stops further than I wanted, I took a deep breath and tried the latch - and it opened! For anyone who’s curious, errrr, just pull the handle up.

When I did make it to the Seine, I was disappointed; I obviously found the only bit that hasn’t been prettied up! However, I did stumble upon a little restaurant that proved a great success. The waiter was lovely (something of a rarity) and, while I was determined to speak French, he was determined to speak English. There were only a handful of people in the restaurant and I’m guessing that one was the owner as all the waiters were buzzing about him, and he ordered a bottle of champagne to drink on his own. How decadent.

Tonight I have eaten very, very well for about £15, including wine. Unfortunately, I can’t remember the name of the place, just that it was very near the Musee D’Orsay.

Place de Voges

Now I know what Eric Maisel was getting at. Place de Voges is one of the most magical places I’ve visited - in Paris or anywhere else.

To get there, I took the metro to St. Pauls. Walk out of the station and you face a large main road - cross the road and walk down - you’re walking into the Marais district. To me, it had a whole different feel to other parts of Paris… it might sound strange, but I felt a distinct San Francisco vibe about the place. This probably isn’t surprising, as I later learned that this is very much a gay district; it also has a large Jewish population. It feels more open and less stuffy than other places; tiny little streets house the most wonderful shops, cafes and galleries, all of them totally different and inviting. I didn’t feel out of place here. I don’t think anyone can feel out of place here. When I go again, I’ll find a hotel in this area, and I’d advise anyone else to do the same.

I had a guide book and a map but I didn’t need it; there are plenty of signposts to the Place de Voges and there’s no mistaking the breathtaking square when you find it. It was a weekday and so not that busy, a few tourists milling about but I almost had the park to myself. There are an abundance of benches and I just sat and drank it all in for half an hour or so. To be honest, I was a bit overwhelmed by it, partly because it looked so amazing, and partly because everything felt so calm and I realised how uptight I’ve been at home with work in recent months. I wish I could have caught hold of those moments and stuffed them into a box to bring out later.

I had my laptop but I didn’t write. I thought a lot, and then I explored the winding streets around the square. I walked past a large synagogue where a group of men were gathered, all dressed in black, two of them with huge, professional looking video cameras on their shoulders. Seconds later, the street filled with tooting horns and a wedding car approached, at which point, lots of other people emerged from the synagogue. All of the men wore black and so did a lot of the women, but a few wore a neapolitan mix of colours and shimmering taffeta. The car drew up and stopped and an old man climbed out, absolutely beaming with pride as he greeted the guests on the pavement who cheered like they were at a football game. There was something very natural and honest about the whole thing - in some ways, it reminded me of weddings that I’ve seen in Eastern Europe. Yes, everyone was wearing their best clothes, but it had none of the vanity that abounds at most modern weddings. The outfits looked a bit dated, but charming nevertheless, and yes, the bride did look a bit like a giant candy floss - but there was genuine delight and real feeling as she was greeted by her friends and disappeared inside. This picture doesn’t really do it justice, I snapped it on my ‘phone from across the street:

Give me a wedding like that any day.

I made it!

Well, here I am - and if I’m honest, I’m ever so slightly amazed that it’s all gone so smoothly.

The bit I was dreading - arriving at Gare de Nord, was fine, in fact it was little different to arriving at Waterloo. I found the exit where the taxi rank is, queued for ten minutes, showed the taxi driver the address of my hotel on the booking form and that was that! A fairly long taxi ride across the city cost the equivalent of about £10, so I wasn’t fleeced.

The hotel is lovely - I will post some pictures when I get home. This morning I got up and didn’t really have much of a plan what to do. I have to keep reminding myself that the emphasis on these few days is to write, not to be run around like a demented tourist - but it’s hard! I needed to aim for SOMEWHERE. I wanted to go to the Musee D’Orsay, as mentioned often in Eric Maisel’s book, but it’s closed on Mondays. So instead, I braved the metro (I’d bought an advance five day pass from Railbookers which saved a lot of worry) and here I am at the Louvre. How exciting!! It’s a huge complex and so my first stop was a cafe to have breakfast - then I will look around the Louvre and come back to writing. Breakfast is a large coffee and croissants. What else?! I fired up my laptop, planning to write my journal offline, but there is free wi-fi here so I’m taking the opportunity to blog ‘live’.

Hmmm. Time for a second cup of coffee and a look at chapter 2 of my novel perhaps?