Travel Diary

January 1, 2004: The Dawn of a New Year

In the morning, I looked out the window to see something neat--it was snowing outside. Wow! My first morning of 2004 would be of gazing at snow gently falling outside my window in Paris. Now, I had memorized some various words for the weather, but "it is snowing" was not one of them. (By the way, it is "il neige.") It was a wonderful feeling to watch snow coming down on the quaint streets of Paris. It's one of those moments that will always be frozen in my memory. Having some time to spare, I chatted with Kimberly a spell and found out a little more about her. She was teaching a class in a nearby city and would be leaving that morning. That was a shame since I could have invited her to hang out with us. It was probably best that that didn't work out since things would not go as planned. For most of the day ahead, "us" would simply be "me."

First of all, the snow was delightful as I entered the chilly streets of Paris. The mesmerizing effect wore off in short time as the freezing conditions soon began working their effect on my body. I was bundled up as much as possible. I had gloves, a cap, a scarf, a neck warmer, a sweater, and a coat. But it still wasn't enough to keep out the cold. I was also dragging my luggage behind me like a two-year-old child who was eager to splash in every puddle and jump off every curb.

The Waiting Is the Hardest Part

Several blocks later, I reached the train station. It was 10:45am and I was meeting Alan and Irena at 11am. Hey! I was early for a change. I was anxious to meet them and start sightseeing. I stood in front of the station and waited...and waited...and waited. Soon, it was 11:30am. Then it was 12pm. Then it was 12:30pm. Meanwhile, it's still freezing outside and I was starting to get hypothermia. I headed into the train station for warmth, but it's to no avail. The station was basically just a large hanger and not heated. I was just as cold in there. To get warm, I did...well. I did nothing! There was simply nothing I could do except burn my luggage--and I had no matches with me to do even that. Finally, I gave up the wait. They just weren't coming. I begin walking westward to check into the next hostel...without them.

Dragging my little rolling toddler along, I made my way over to a neighborhood just under Sacre Coeur. I climbed a narrow street heading up a sharp hill and then a little side street led me to my hostel. I spoke French to the receptionist and she spoke French back. Cool. It's so much fun to speak the language. But after a few phrases, I was lost in understanding her, so I switched back to English. But she kept speaking in French. Hmmm...apparently she wasn't aware that I had reached my limit of comprehension. But not wanting to complicate things, I simply nodded a lot and agreed with her. I got the general idea of what she was saying. The hostel we were at was full, and she was sending me to another hostel for the reservation. It was all arranged though. That was just how they handled their overflow. She escorted me down the streets and together we found the other hostel. Having done her job, she departed and I promptly entered the wrong door.

The clerk was clueless as to who I was but soon understood the situation. I was looking for the hostel next door to them. Well okay, back outside I went, and back into the adjacent hostel (if I ever go back, I'm staying at exactly the same places because at least I now know where they're at!) Now these people were the ones expecting me. Once again, I got to explain that yes, there HAD BEEN four reservations. There were now THREE reservations. Oh, the joys of people canceling. Not knowing the whereabouts of Alan and Irena, I wasn't sure whether or not I should even book all three beds, but I figured it was best to be safe. I knew Irena wanted to find a way to head back to the States, but with next day plane tickets costing over $2,000, I was fairly certain they wouldn't pounce on that great offer. I made the reservation for the three of us and then headed upstairs.

Another Home

The room was actually fairly nice. It even had a tiny TV and a bathtub. I dropped off my luggage and went back out in the cold. Back to the train station, I sallied. I had to figure out whatever became of Alan and Irena. I hung around the station a while, but they never showed. Next, I walked the long ways up Rue de Lafayette to their hostel. Maybe the people there would know what happened. If aliens dragged them away, there would have to be at least one witness. The clerk informed me that they had indeed checked out at 9am that morning. They had had her call a taxi and were heading to the emergency room. No, I wasn't surprised in the least. The clerk was concerned, but I explained that everything was just fine. Like a routine now, I once again made my way down Rue de Lafayette. The snow had turned to rain. My trusty umbrella kept me dry and not having my little toddler to drag along, I kept a good pace. So far, my sightseeing hadn't amounted to much more than a few hostels and a very familiar train station.

The Bread Shop

After returning to the train station area, I began to notice that I was quite famished. I entered a little café for a bite to eat. The name of the establishment was Histoire de Pain. There were so many various breads and pastries to choose from. Even before I entered, I could smell the strong aroma of freshly baked bread permeating the air in front of the café. Proudly, I did all my ordering in French. And the lady behind the counter replied in French. That's always a good sign. If you ask a question in French and they reply in English, then that means they know you don't really speak French very well and they just want to cut out all the games and get to the point. So I gathered that I was doing a decent job. My lunch was a croissant, a baguette, and a cup of café crème. The people there were remarkably friendly. After finishing my order, the lady responded with "merci." So much information can be relayed in that final response. The tone can be short and cutting as if to say, "I'm glad this trouble transaction is over with." Or it can be jovial and chipper as if to say, "Thank you for your business. I really appreciate your patronage." Happily, her response was the latter. And she seemed to be that way for every customer who placed an order. Taking a window seat, I sat down and observed the city life of Paris strolling by in front. I wanted to look at all the details-the little things that made Paris...well, Paris.

I noticed how each building contained so much detail. The buildings were huge, but still had so much character in the ornate stone cuttings and the curved iron railings. I noticed the little clocks on the street which could come in handy should someone not be wearing a watch, like myself. The people passing by all were bundled up in warm clothing. Most of the clothing was black, navy blue or some other dark color. Warm clothing just always seems to be dark. Tiny cars drove by. Many taxis passed too. After all, we were next to a train station. The people passing all varied in their expressions and mannerisms. Some were happy and laughing. A few girls giggled as they shared some exciting story unbeknownst to me. One couple was confused and asked a man for directions. He helped them out and even crosses the street with them to point them in the right direction. A lady with white hair walked by. She seemed rather preoccupied. A boy and girl paused in front of the café. He kissed her, but she's a little coy about it and shied away. Happily, he took her hand and led her onward. Small flakes of snow begin to float down again. I did a little writing and a little reading while I contentedly soaked up the time.

Sacre Coeur Church

Being quite satisfied with lunch, I stuffed half my baguette into my backpack and exited the café. I resolved that I had to at least see something new during my stay in Paris. The Sacre Coeur Church was something I had yet to see and it was unbelievably close to my hostel. I guess I had just gotten used to always having to walk many miles to get to the good stuff. But this outing would take no time at all. Heading up the hill, I discovered the church at the hill's peak. To the left was a long stairway filled with tourists. Beside that was a tram system. One could pay a euro, wait in line for twenty minutes and ride to the top. But not ever being one to take the lazy man's way, I joined the group on the stairs. Slowly, I ascended each step until I reached the top. The church was a sight to see, and even more amazing was the snow all around. It lightly dusted the grass and the statues. I snapped many pictures. I then pushed my way into the large crowd and begin entering the church. The price was one I liked--free. Inside, it was packed. I sadly noted the sign that said "No photography." I was also asked to remove my hat. Oops. My bad. Slowly, an amoeba of people made its way around the sanctuary. At one point, I exited the crowd and sat down in a wooden pew chair. It was nice to break free of the herd-like procession. The ambient noise in the church was interesting to observe. No talking was allowed, but people of course would mumble quietly to each other. The effect of hundreds of people doing this gave a sort of quiet roar to the place. The sound was a soft rumbling, and it was almost tranquil. Resting in my chair, I took note of where I was. I had traveled over 5,500 miles from home by means of a plane, a train, and a lot of walking. Now, I sat in the Sacred Heart Church and took some time for prayer.

Returning to the line once again, I continued my way around the sanctuary. The line stopped moving so I forced my way up to the front of it to see what was happening. They had halted the line for an event to take place. Suddenly, loud ominous pipe organ music filled the church. Moments later, a small line of choirboys walked out. The first carried a metal container of incense, which he swung by means of a thin chain. Smoke from the incense began filling the air and permeated into the crowd. Following this, a group of nuns dressed in white took their places in the center of the church and began singing. They then allowed the line to move again. Again, I exited the line and took a seat. This time I simply listened to the musical voices of the nuns and the thunderous sounds of the pipe organ. Closing my eyes, I took some time to relax and take it all in. Not being able to snap photos, I can use only words to describe what I saw and felt. The church was large. It seemed to equate the size of Notre Dame. Large stained glass windows were scattered all about. But with the dull gray skies outside, no sunlight would be permitted to shine through. I was only able to imagine what it must be like when the rays of the sun pierce through the glass and cast colorful light into the church. In the back of the church on the second level was the large pipe organ. It appeared to fill the entire loft. Whereas, the front of the church was decorated with fancy gold trim, the pipe organ remained more sedated in glamour. Its colors were darker and it appeared to contain a lot of brown or cherry colored woodwork. Adding soft yellow color to spotted areas of the church were the numerous tiny candles. The candles also offered little pockets of warmth when you stood next to them.

Finally, I left the church and went back out into the cold weather. Instead of heading back down the hill, I wandered to the right of the church and began trolling the small streets of that area. Braving the gentle rain, street artists were numerously scattered about selling their creative works. The rain was light and didn't prevent full crowds from taking in the rich Paris life. Cafés remained busy. Looking around, I sensed that the people around me were from all over the world. I ducked into a little pastry shop and ordered a crepe sucre (crepe with sugar). Thinking back, I realize that it was the strong sweet smell that pulled me into that store. I had smelled the aroma well before even reaching the shop. With crepe in hand, I headed back out into the streets. The weather was chilly, but my warm crepe seemed to balance things out for the present. Soon I was back at the long stairwell of the hill and I descended to the streets below. My next quest was for a liquor store. I needed some drinks for the hotel. This search would consume a good amount of time. Liquor stores just aren't terribly common in Paris. For the life of me, I have no idea where people get their food from once the cafés are closed. My lengthy search also took its toll on my feet. My legs really hadn't had a rest since first arriving in Europe days earlier. My left foot complained and my right knee kept it company. Yet, I pressed onward until I found a little store. I bought a coke, an Orangina and a Guinness beer. These items would last me the night.

I Have Company!

Arriving back at the hotel, I went upstairs and was disappointed to not see Alan and Irena in the room. But that disappointment faded fast as I noticed their bags had been deposited there. Ah! Very good! They had checked in and were now probably scouring for food in the city. My next task was only to raise my body temperature back up to normal. I drew a hot back and soaked for well over a half hour. It was certainly refreshing and peaceful. It's funny how contrast makes things so much more enjoyable. Taking a hot bath after spending an entire day freezing is so much more rewarding. After the bath, I relaxed on a bed and watched a little French TV. (Observe the pun if you want, for like I said, the TV was small!) In time, Alan and Irena came in. They had bought food from a local restaurant. Well, it appeared to be fast food of some sort, but I wasn't up for giving my usual "You shouldn't eat fast food in another country!" speeches. Besides, the fries did look pretty tasty. After chatting, we all turned in rather early that night.

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