This is difficult for me to admit, because I’m almost never wrong. In fact, I made a habit of pointing out to people how much better their lives would be if they only took my advice, because it’s nearly always sage, wise, correct, judicious, practical and experienced.
However, once in a while, there is the rare occurrence that I happen to be wrong, and I admit this freely. I want to make clear that it occurs very seldom, but in this case, well, OK. I was wrong.
I went grudgingly to Paris, expecting to hate it because I had previously hated it on my one and only visit 47 years ago and guess what? I didn’t hate it. In fact, it was … OK. I sort of almost liked it. I could see going back there someday. Maybe.
Let me explain that I don’t speak French and haven’t studied the language since I was in college, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth. On my one previous visit, every Parisian I met acted as if he could not understand a thing I was saying, even “Where is the toilet?’
Which in French is, “Où sont les toilettes?” Don’t tell me you didn’t understand me when I asked you that, Mr. Nose-In-The-Air in the supposed Paris Information Booth, which seemed designed to suppress information, not provide it. By the way, in Europe it’s considered perfectly polite to ask for the toilet. If you ask about the bathroom, they might think you want to take a bath.
On that first trip, I spent a great portion of my visit standing hopelessly at street corners, peering at maps trying to figure out where I was. The only people who talked to me were other tourists, who saw my map and asked plaintively if I knew where the Eiffel Tower was.
I didn’t even know where I was, let along the Eiffel Tower.
But 47 years makes quite a difference. For one thing, this time around, I was visiting my friend, Pinky, and mooching off her in her cute apartment near the Seine. So not only did I have a free place to stay, but a companion who could find her way around the city easily.
Also, there is now a popular locomotion device known as le Uber, which means you open up your phone and enter where you want to go into the Uber app. As if by magic, presto, in a few minutes, a car will appear and take you to your chosen location. Yes, it will cost you $15 or so, depending on the distance, but, still, there’s no plaintive wandering around in tears, with a now-damp map in your hand.
Also, nowadays, English has become the universal language and even the grumpy Parisians have accepted it. Signs are in French and … English. Tourism workers speak French and … English. So those of us misguided and chauvinist enough to go to France without learning the language can still get around with relative ease.
Also, you don’t even need a paper map anymore, because you’ve got Google maps. You do have it, right? Just put in your destination and, if you’re lucky, it will guide you there. Now, I tried to use it a few days ago to find a particular pharmacy and I ended up wandering around lost, but, hey, I found a yummy Greek cafe and a grocery store, so it wasn’t a total loss.
On Easter Sunday, le Uber took me to the newly reopened Notre Dame de Paris, which, as you know, suffered a devastating fire in 2019, and only reopened to visitors in December. Aside from the thousands of other people waiting in line to get inside, it was quite thrilling to see how it’s been rebuilt exactly as before. Huge cranes still hang over the building, so it’s not completely done, but it was still special to be there. That was No. 1 on my places-to-visit list for this trip.
I also went to the high mass, also known as the Gregorian Mass, at the gorgeous Gothic 1633 Saint-Eustache church because it’s known for its remarkable music. Choir, cantor and the largest pipe organ in France put on quite a show. I always recommend going to the high mass at any historic church you want to visit, instead of just walking around an empty church. Plus, churches never charge money for attending services, so it won’t cost you anything to get in, though you should drop something in the collection plate.
Pinky also took me to the Musee d’Orsay, where she has a membership so we got in free. I love free. It’s jam packed full of Impressionist masterpieces and I could have spent a month there. She likes it better than the Louvre, and I agreed. We also took a cruise along the Seine and hit up a fun flea market. So, all in all, it was a great trip.
She’s buying an apartment there now, so I might even go back someday. I still haven’t seen Jim Morrison’s grave.
Related links
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