Paris: Part Six, the final chapter!

I love you both, my loyal readers! I'll give you the last paragraph of Part Five so you get have a "when last we left our heroes"-type experience...

Lunch [at the Louvre] was quite good. We all had chicken salad sandwiches on baguettes and I got to order for everyone. Throughout ordering and conversing with the waiter in French, Mike was looking at me a little strangely, sort of bemusedly. When the waiter finally left, he grinned and said, "It's really very cute when you do that, when you speak in French. You have a cute accent." I nearly swooned on the spot but managed to just thank him and turn a little red. I internally vowed to speak more French when at all possible.

Part Six

After lunch, we all trooped off to the "Objets d'art" section of the Louvre. Mike had said that morning after inquiring what kind of things I liked to see that he didn't "want to spend all day staring a someone's silverware." Funnily enough, we soon found ourselves in front of a large glass case containing-you guessed it-someone's collection of butter knifes. I was particularly tickled by this but we moved on anyway. We saw the sculpture gardens and wandered through Babylon to get back to the pyramid and the gift shop. We were basically all Louvre-d out at this point and we were ready to spend big bucks in the gift shop.

About half an hour later we emerged from the Louvre with very little to show from our visit short of our maps and tickets. I had purchased a few postcards, the best and cheapest souvenir, and Yuan had bought a Louvre guidebook in French (to practice, he said) but other than that, the gift shops proved a disappointment. No matter, we decided, since we were on our way through the Tuileries to yet another street carnival. This one was much larger than the one Mike and I had encountered the night before. It stretched down the entire length of the Tuileries and had all kinds of varied amusements. After spotting an impressively large Ferris wheel that morning while we waited to enter the Louvre, we had all immediately decided we had to go. So it was about ten minutes later that we found ourselves all crammed into one small, round car and heading upwards.

The view from the Ferris wheel couldn't help but be spectacular. It was located basically in the direct center of Paris and you could see everything from the top. Courtney, petrified of heights and with a severe case of motion sickness, squealed and laughed nervously as we went up and around and were swayed by the light breeze. Mike, our resident photographer, filmed the entire thing using the video feature on his camera. I just grinned and laughed and let myself go. It was beautiful up there and the wind was a pleasant respite from the heat down below. We went around a bunch of times, each time spotting some new monument or landmark below us. It was exciting and, if we hadn't had time to actually visit each landmark personally, this Ferris wheel would have been quite enough to make up for it. As it was, the ride was like a checklist of all the places we had been or wanted to go while in Paris. I am happy to report we eventually saw all of them with the small exception of the Musee d'Orsay, which we saw from the outside many times but never went inside.

After the Ferris wheel we found an incredibly cheap ice cream place at the carnival and we each got a cone. Ice cream in hand, we started back towards the Seine and Notre Dame. We crossed the Seine to the shady side of the river and continued along. Rather than walk up top where all the little booths and souvenir shops were, we took a steep stone staircase down to the water level. I'd never been down there but it was remarkably different from the upper street. It was more bohemian and felt like the real Paris, not the Paris everyone wants you to see. There was a little tent village, complete with medical tent in case anyone should fall ill. There were boats strapped up next to the docks and a couple lounging in a hammock they had tied up under a bridge. It was also cooler down by the river on the cobblestone so it was quite pleasant.

We were still hoping to take a boat-ride down the Seine that night so we kept an eye out for any company who might be available to do such a thing that night. Mike found a taxi-boat service where you paid for a day and then could use it whenever, hop on and hop off. It was after five by this point so it seemed a waste to purchase such a ticket even if it would save our feet the next ten minutes of walking to Notre Dame. So we ditched the boat idea, resurfaced and paroozed the touristy stalls along the street until the Ile de la Cite came into view. Courtney successfully purchased four bottles of water from a man with a bucket and we proceeded onto the island. We walked the length of it, Mike and Courtney for once agreeing to follow my lead rather than go off on some crazy route with Yuan. Apparently the previous night's Metro debacle had boosted my street credibility.

Following the little signs reading "Notre Dame de Paris," we turned almost at the end of the island. We were immediately on a lively street with numerous cafes, shops and tons of tourists. As we continued along, the sound of bells started to be heard coming from somewhere up ahead. It was a remarkable conflict of sounds as if someone in the bell tower had just decided to ring every bell up there all at once without rhyme or reason. Every bell pealed out its particular note, competing with the other bells to be heard and to be the loudest and most often sounded. Hearing the bells created a magical moment. Notre Dame in and of itself is magical, there are no words to describe the feeling you get when you go there, but hearing the bells and seeing the cathedral slowly rise up from behind trees and buildings is indescribable. For the first time, I could perfectly envision in my mind's eye what it was like back at the time of the cathedral's height. I could see the old, crooked roads winding in and all around with the Medieval people of Paris hurrying to get wherever they were going. It was as if everything faded away around me and I was left alone with Notre Dame, her bells and the shades of days past.

Nothing could shake me from the haze of appreciation and adoration of the building. We immediately got in line to go inside and then we were in a whole other world. Almost as soon as we stepped in, the cantor stepped forward in the pulpit and started to sing the most beautiful hymn I've ever heard. Notre Dame is amazing in the silence of tourists' feet shuffling and cameras clicking. Notre Dame comes alive and becomes inexpressibly beautiful when she is in use. The bells had been calling people to Mass. We were in time for Mass.

The next hour was one of the most moving of my life. Incense poured forth from the pulpit, thicker and more potent than any I've ever seen in my life. It encompassed everything, tossing a hazy glow over the entire interior. The cantor continued to sing, the choir joined in and the monumental organ at the back of the cathedral sang to life, resonating around the stone walls. It was completely magical and life-affirming and an experience on the verge of converting me. I sat in a corner, huddled near a statue of Joan of Arc and just looked around me in complete awe. Notre Dame is always my favorite thing about Paris and there are no words that can describe why. I don't know why myself, it just enchants me and casts a spell over me. Man created all this to honor something he truly believed in. It's a wonder.

Mike joined me after a bit next to Joan of Arc and we carried on a conversation about religion in hushed tones as the incense overtook the air around us. I'm not one to talk about my beliefs very often but Mike brought it out of me. It's interesting to be confronted with the question of what do you believe. Notre Dame stirred every religious bone in my body and inspired me to believe more heartily in the plain, simple goodness of Man. The experience of sitting on a stone ledge pressed up against a soaring column in Notre Dame de Paris with Mike and Joan of Arc next to me while the choir sang on heavenly was incredible. Magical. Inspiring.

I basically had to be dragged from the cathedral. I could quite happily sit there all day listening and watching the beauty around me but it was time for dinner and even I was getting a bit peckish. We went to the café directly next to the cathedral and had a cheese plate since we all agreed we had to have crepes for dinner at least once while in Paris. So we had the cheese and then went in search of a crepes place. Rather fortuitously, the Latin Quarter, renowned for its eclectic-ness and numerous restaurants, was merely on the other side of the Seine. So we passed Notre Dame once more and delved into the Latin Quarter. I was about to somehow transfer into the most charming version of myself I've ever been.

I don't know what it was about that night but wandering around the Latin Quarter gave me a sudden new burst of energy, enthusiasm and gaiety. I became this charming woman who was slightly mysterious and said wonderful things in English and in French and could navigate to anywhere with complete confidence. I had a strut and I felt fantastic. I have moments in my life where I become different versions of myself, better, worse, dull, charming and this was the pinnacle of these moments. I skipped about and grinned and was thoroughly charming. That's the only word I can think of to describe it: charming. I wish I could be like her all the time but I don't know what switch got turned in my body to do it again. I was the best version of myself and I loved every moment.

Mike and I split two crepes (one cheese and chicken the other simply butter and sugar, both delicious) at this great creperie we randomly found down a busy side street. The crepe-maker was quite the ham and put on a great production in making our crepes. We then went up to the upper floor that no one else seemed to know existed and were able to watch the street from above. After dinner, we all just wandered around the Latin Quarter. There were street dancers and little shops that were (shockingly) still open. It was fantastic. We caught one last glimpse of Notre Dame, all lit up and beautiful at night, before Yuan stopped some people and asked for the nearest Metro stop. The night wouldn't have been complete without Yuan asking some random people where something was.

I woke up the next morning to Mike sort of gently touching my shoulder which was a nice way to come into consciousness. It was my turn in the bathroom so I got up, took a quick shower and then started packing all my stuff up. It was already the day of our departure. It was incredible that the time had gone so fast. Our plan for the morning before getting to the bus station at noon was to take the Metro one last time out to Montmartre and seeing Sacre Coeur, the last thing in Paris that I had never been to and really wanted to see. So it was with great enthusiasm that I strapped all my bags on and headed out. We stopped to take a bunch of pictures of the Hotel Tamaris before departing which earned us some weird looks from passersby.

The Metro ride to Montmartre was pleasantly surprising since it took place primarily aboveground. We got to see the city rushing by which kept me more awake than I probably would have been otherwise. We got out of the Metro and, after one right turn, there was Sacre Coeur. It just rose up, all white and shining above all the other, comparatively dingy buildings. We went towards it, snapping pictures all the way and started to climb the stairs towards the church itself. We hadn't gone more than five stairs when four black men accosted us and asked us for our index finger. Warily we stuck out our fingers and very soon discovered the men were South African bracelet weavers! Five minutes of bizarre conversation later, the four of us parted from the four of them with lovely reminders of our trip tied around our wrists and ten euros less in our wallets.

We continued climbing unimpeded (a few more South African guys tried to stop us but we just held up our wrists and they left us alone). A man had set up shop with his harp under a little blue tent and was plunking out "My Heart Will Go On" from Titanic. For some reason, it worked. It seemed strange that a Celine Dion song would be remotely appropriate at Sacre Coeur, but the harpist made it work. He was very serene and dedicated to playing his music and it was quite calming. Eventually, after more climbing, made it to the church itself and wandered around inside for a little. Where Notre Dame was stunning and magical both within and without, Sacre Coeur's exterior was really all it had to recommend it. After finishing up our circle around the inside of the church, Mike informed us that we were going all the way to the top. Not for the faint of heart, I can now tell you.

It was a pretty cool Indiana Jones-like experience to go up the winding stone staircase through the very walls of Sacre Coeur towards the dome at top. There were cobwebs and poor lighting and the steps just went up forever. It was only the knowledge that they did eventually end at some point that kept me from complete despair. I could just imagine some little bell ringer forcing himself up these stairs day in and day out. At the halfway point the stairs open up to give a break and you shimmy along by the gutters. About there you realize that all these stairs are well worth it. I thought this halfway view was the actual end-game view and I was considerably awed. But it got better.

The view from the very top of Sacre Coeur was quite the sight. You can see all of Paris and even out into the countryside on a clear day. Courtney and I marveled that we could see farmland from right in Paris. Yuan accosted a friendly German man who happily took numerous pictures of all four of us from various angles and then proceeded to talk to us for a while after. We met a group of confused British tourists who kept exclaiming "But we were just looking for the crypt!" They seem to have gotten lost. After a while, we headed back down the winding stone staircase (this time down the other side). This side had an even more Hunchback of Notre Dame feeling about it. There was more skitting along gutters and climbing awkwardly down worn-in stairs. It was fantastic.

We stopped to buy three French hotdogs and flavored ices before hopping on the Metro once more to catch our bus back to London. We were right on time and all piled onto the bus. We didn't get the front seats this time but we got four seats in a row which was nice. As with the last time, Courtney and I chattered amiably for the first few hours of the trip while the boys dozed or listened to stand-up off of Mike's iPod. After a bit, I decided to take a nap. We were all quite looking forward to the ferry this time since we knew it was coming. It would be daylight and we could all go out on the deck and actually see the choppy Channel waters around us. We were quite excited about the prospect.

Sad to say, when the bus driver started following signs for the Eurotunnel rather than the signs for Calais. We had to stop twice for customs and the only upside was that we got our passports stamped. It didn't really make up for the lack of ferry-ride, but I'm all for getting more stamps in my passport. The tunnel wasn't like I imagined it at all. The bus drove into a train compartment, parked and then, about half an hour later, we were let out of the train compartment and we were in Dover. I didn't even notice us moving.

The ride back to London was uneventful. There was traffic in between Canterbury and London which delayed us a lot. We got to see the spires of Canterbury Cathedral, which was pretty cool. Our trip was allowing us to see other random pieces of touristy things that we might have otherwise missed had we taken a plane or train. But it was coming to an end and I resignedly attempted to get some law reading done.

We arrived back in Oxford around 11:40pm and walked back to Trinity. The whole experience was surreal. We had been in Paris only hours earlier and now we were in Oxford, UK. That in and of itself was still remarkable. We were home and our home was Trinity College. It wasn't even really a disappointment to have to leave Paris for such equally exciting places. Besides, I got to see everything I wanted to see in Paris without the slightest twinge of regret over anything. It was the absolute best weekend of my life, I decided and now I can just look down at my wrist and see my Montmartre bracelet and smile whenever I want.