Friday 15/7/2016.
We’d booked a ghost walk for the evening which started at the Notre Dame, so decided to stay in that area. After breakfast in a café, the three of us headed to the Louvre while Neen’s friends went shopping. One of her friends had promised her wife she’d wait to visit the Louvre with her. The Louvre is enormous! As Paris is the city of love, we thought it would be hilarious to pose for fake proposal photos at famous sites. Cat and Neen did the first photo outside the Louvre, using one of the shortbread hearts we hadn’t eaten in the airport. Mocking cliché romantic gestures with a fattening treat.
It didn’t take that long to get in to the Louvre and it was only €15. You enter via the giant glass pyramid then go down steps into the museum, so it’s all underground. A map detailed the areas so we could pick where we wanted to go, or we could easily spend all day walking around. We wandered for a bit before heading to the Venus di Milo. Her washboard abs made us jealous. We amused ourselves by taking photos with the statues, mimicking their poses. This is how we do culture.
This is art
As we reached the top of some stairs, a poorly placed air vent blew Cat’s skirt up, Marilyn Monroe style, exposing her pert posterior to the patrons below. Back home, she’d be arrested for indecent exposure, however, in the Louvre, this is considered art. We made our way through the Egyptian section to see the sarcophagi, which were beautiful. Egyptians put more effort and thought into decorating their sarcophagi than most people do in decorating their homes. No white and magnolia and Live Laugh Love signs for these pharaohs! One day we’ll go to Egypt, when we have more travel experience, but until then, Egyptian exhibits will have to suffice.
Mona Lisa smile
We worked our way through the Louvre to find the Mona Lisa. It’s not a painting we’re especially interested in – our tastes are dark and gothic – but visiting the Louvre and not seeing the most famous painting inside has to be a crime. There was a big crowd in front of the Mona Lisa, taking photos, so we had to wait. You seemed to be under pressure to just take a photo and leave without having the luxury of staying to study her. You’re meant to admire art in its reality, not through a screen. The painting is a lot smaller than we thought it would be, especially compared to the size of some of the paintings that were on display.
Cafe culture
We met up with Neen’s friends in a café and paid an eye-watering €12 for a vodka and lemonade. That’s why you should never use cafes near famous tourist attractions. They will rob you blind. A laminated menu with no prices is a giveaway. As it’s only our second time of leaving the UK, we had no idea. We have since learned our lesson and now find places in quiet residential streets, away from the tourist price tag.
It was a strong measure of vodka so we stumbled back to the Notre Dame, stopping to look in gift shops. The Notre Dame is stunning but the queue to get in was ridiculously long. It was really hot and we didn’t fancy getting sunstroke with our entry ticket, so we went to find somewhere to eat. In hindsight, we should have queued. In the ten years since we’ve been to Paris, it burned down and was rebuilt. Another lesson learned. Go to the famous sites while you have the chance.
News reports
Ours and Neen’s feet were killing us, so we didn’t want to stray too far from the Notre Dame. After some chips, we practiced asking for the bill in French. “L’addition, s’il vous plait.” Only for Neen’s friends to ask in English. A news report came up on our phones about a terrorist attack in Nice. Neen’s friends became anxious, but we assured them that we’re too far from Nice to be worried.
We got to the Notre Dame just in time for 7 p.m. The tour guide didn’t show. Neen checked her email. Lynx had accidentally booked the wrong tour. We were meeting on Pont Neuf at 9 p.m. We shuffled our way over and went into a bar/café. Lynx needed the toilet but a woman who tried to go in earlier when it was occupied, was blocking the doorway on the phone. The toilet became free, but the woman didn’t go in. Lynx waited about ten minutes before going to the woman and saying “excuse moi.” The woman went into the toilet. Hope you drop your phone down the latrine.
Going for ghosts
One of Neen’s friends was sick, so they returned to the apartment and we found another bar. We didn’t feel like drinking, so we asked the barman about the city bikes we’d seen around. He explained how to use them. They’re free for the first half hour then you pay €1. But if you get to a parking spot within the half hour and wait two minutes, you can take another bike for free. They’d save our poor feet!
We made our way to Pont Neuf for the ghost tour, but again, didn’t see a guide. We spotted a guy with a clipboard, but he was in a bright yellow t-shirt, not the usual black attire of ghost walk guides. He was part of the ghost walk, not a guide. The guide was an American woman. It was less of a ghost walk and more about France’s bloody history, which was interesting, because we don’t know a lot about France’s past, other than they were often at war with England (who wasn’t?) and the Revolution.
She pointed out where the gallows were, the church were St Bartholomew’s Massacre started, where Henry IV was murdered, and where the site of the public executions were. She also pointed out the Conciergerie building we’d passed on our way to Notre Dame, where they’d held the prisoners of the Revolution before taking them to the guillotine. Marie Antoinette was held there. We added it to our list of places to visit.
Biking babes
After the walk, we went to find somewhere to drink and ended up in the gay district. We shared a Sex on the Beach because we wouldn’t manage one each. Even that made us slightly tipsy. As it was gone midnight and our feet were hurting, we decided it was the perfect time to try the city bikes. We found a bike spot and took a while reading the instructions, trying to figure it out. You needed €150 in your bank account to cover the deposit. Our bank accounts rarely see that much money, so Neen paid for all of us.
A man helped us with the machine then we finally figured out how to get the bikes off the stands. You get a ticket with a subscriber number on and you have to enter a 4 digit passcode. You put in the number of the bike you want then have 60 seconds to get it off the stand. No pressure then. The seats had to be on the lowest setting so we could reach the pedals.
Tour de Paris
We soon got our bikes and were on our wobbly way. We haven’t ridden a bike since we were 17 and Lynx fell off hers, cutting her knee so badly that the scar remains. So we weren’t exactly confident on them. Neen regularly rides, so she was fine. She has a better sense of direction, so was volunteered to lead the way.
We accidentally went the wrong way up a one-way street. And rode on the wrong side of the road. But there were no cars, so no witnesses to our crimes. Plus, rule breaking in Paris is a cultural norm. We made it back to our apartment and dropped our bikes off nearby. It’s much quicker than walking and it saves our feet. Our shoulders ached from the weight of our rucksacks though. We’d tried putting them in the baskets on the front but it unbalanced the bikes. We finally got to bed at 1:30 a.m.
Read Day 1.
Read Day 3.
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