23 Feb 91
Chere mama an cher papa,
Tout va tres bien, je veux vous recounter mes adventures .
. .
My introduction into French culture was very sudden, as
the DC-10 I think transported me across the Atlantic was in itself a petite
France. Although everything was spoken bilingually, it seemed everyone on the
plane was French. However, the most important aspect of my plane trip was the
distinct feeling that I got, that I was not merely going on a vacation but on a
very long-term discovery adventure. Everything around me was causing foreign
stimulus (it seems after six days that I am having a great deal of difficulty
speaking English smoothly . . .), such as the flight across the ocean (my first)
the French spoken over the intercom, the large plane (to which I was unaccustomed)
which I was aware meant a transoceanic flight, and especially the knowledge
that I would be touching down in a foreign country.
My arrival at the Paris Orly airport was another sudden
shock. I expected at least that the airport would be helpful for foreign
travelers, with things printed bilingually, etc. Boy, I was wrong! I found
myself in a strange land, exhausted from jet lag (imagine it was 9:00 AM in
Paris but 2:00 AM and Nashville and I had hardly slept on the plane because I
wanted to experience everything), knowing nothing of the native tongue, and
nothing is printed in English. I found the counter where I was to change my
money but how was I to know if I was being taken for a ride because I wasn't
familiar in the least with the concept of changing U.S. dollars to francs, or
even changing money at all. At this point, I was at one of the most vulnerable
points of my life thus far.
My next great goal was to find out how to get into Paris. I had envisioned this task as being a little easier than it actually was. I had thought I would find some nice, helpful, English-speaking person at the information counter who would take my hand (figuratively) and tell me exactly what to do and perhaps invite me to stay with her family for a few days. As it was, I got a very rapidly speaking French woman who I think probably thought I was crazy knowing neither the language nor how to get anywhere. She was explaining how to take the bus to the train station and I asked twice the name of the stop and caught it neither time but heard her mention that it was the last stop so I figured that I could probably tell the last stop by all the people leaving the bus. Which is exactly how it happened. I could elaborate, but I think I'll shorten things by saying that I made it, With great difficulty, to the correct stop on the metro (Charles de Gaulle/Etoile) on the way we passed the Eiffel Tower, which is smaller than I expected. As it turned out, Charles de Gaulle/Etoile stop on the metro is where the Arc de Triomphe is. So, within 5 minutes of each other, I unexpectedly stumbled upon two major monuments of the world. Anyway, the streets in Paris are arranged around statues,
monuments, major buildings, etc . . . For example, I must have walked around that circle 16 times or so trying to accomplish the things that I needed to accomplish. Anyway, I made it to the youth hostel at about 4:30, starving, with no food because I discovered everything is tres cher (very expensive), and so tired, considering my extreme jet lag and the fact that I had probably walked 10 miles or so. I don't know if I can communicate what a great feeling it was arriving at the hostel. I instantly felt at ease, as it was warm (about 40 degrees and windy outside) there were lots of young people lounging about, drinking coffee, talking, reading, etc . . ., and there was good music playing, and I was equipped with an AYH card. The card gave me the feeling that I belonged there. I was finally in allied territory. The first thing I did after taking my bags upstairs was to get a cup of (hot) coffee (oh! I forgot to tell you about the first European cup of coffee. I was in the midst of my journey to find the hostel and I had to stop to get something to eat and drink and rest for a few minutes (and to thaw out I really could have used a pair of gloves and a hat!) very quickly I understood why Scott et al complains about American coffee, as this was the best coffee (cafe) I'd ever had. So there I was sitting in the front of the Louvre, sipping on a cup of wonderful cafe au lait, eating a baguette w/fromage (fraise!) having no idea what adventure I was in for . . .)
Anyway, back to the hostel . . . before I even had a chance to sit down a girl with an Australian accent asked me to sit with her. We enjoyed talking to each other and decided to go out that night but I said that I had to get some sleep beforehand, as I was suffering serious jetlag. So I slept until 8 when she woke me. I met with her downstairs and found her sitting with four other guys from Australia. I was still quite disoriented from my exhaustion and that combined with the fact that I had just awakened was picked up immediately by Cameron and Simon and Floody and Stewart who used every opportunity to try to confuse me and to make fun of me. Of course, it was all in good fun. We never even went out that night just stayed there and met more people and played cards and drank cheap (tres $2 a bottle!) French wine.
(Photo Credit Narell Barclay)The next two days I spent with the same six people (these four plus Norell and another guy Martin) and were two of the best days I've ever had in my life.
(Photo Credit Narell Barclay)The next day we all went to Notre Dame, where, as I said in my postcard I cried. I think you can understand without me having to explain myself. That was a beautiful, 60 degrees and sunny day and we picnicked on the steps of the Palais de Chaillot
which has a magnificent view of the Eiffel Tower, and watched young people skate and do amazing feats of skill on skateboards.
We all went back to the hostel and slept or bathed or whatever and then met downstairs at about 9:00 for more cards and cheap wine. There were more people this time about 15 and we had an absolute blast. I hit it off really well with Cameron who just finished uni (Aussie for college) with an engineering degree and who, if I hadn't liked him so much, I probably wouldn't have liked him at all, as he is very overbearing and arrogant.
I get the distinct feeling that a lot of people feel I
should have been better prepared for this trip, considering that I don't know
much French at all and I have no itinerary, very little money (until I hear
from you) no plans to return home, etc . . . but I've begun to realize that I
had to do this trip this way because it's a way for me to prove myself that I
really can take care of myself in many circumstances where others may not be so
adventurous. It's the challenge of it all with which for some reason I feel I
need to be presented, and although it may cause me much doubt/consternation/worry,
I have to do it, just so I'll know I can make it through. For some, it's
graduating from college for others it's training for the Olympics. This is my
way to prove myself.
24 Feb 91
I
called Jerry earlier today I hope he relayed the messages concerning the credit
card and the travelers' checks as I am getting restless and would very much like
to leave Paris. There are so many places I have to see that I feel I've been
here long enough already. But since I have to wait a few days before I can
leave, this is my temporary plan: I have arranged to stay Monday and Tuesday
nights with a family on a farm about 35 kilometers to the West of Paris.
Wednesday night is with a 42-year-old English translator who speaks Swedish as
well as French and English. He seems to be very nice, from what I can detect on
the phone. I have yet to find a place for Thursday night. Then by Friday, I
should have some money so I want to stay in the other IYHF hostel (there are
two in Paris) for Friday and Saturday nights. My Let's Go guide says it's one
of the largest hostels in all of Europe so I should be able to find someone to
travel with. I don't know where I want to go after Paris so I want to look at
the ride board for ideas or if that doesn't work I'll just ask around.
Anyway,
back to my undoubtedly inadequate summation of my Parisian adventures thus far.
It is an interesting feature of Paris that it is so small. If you need to go
from one end of the city to the other it would take about two hours to do so. Of
course, most of the places I've had to go have not been that far apart. So I've
developed this philosophy: in general, Parisians are so fit because things are
not far enough apart to justify driving (plus there's nowhere to park!) Or
spending the 5.20 F (about $1.20) on the metropolitan (the subway), so they
just walk. And the distance is far enough so that they are able to get a good
workout. I'm hardly being facetious when I say this as there must be some explanation
as to why everyone is so thin! I think I've seen one person since I've been
here who I would consider to be obese. I can't tell you how refreshing it is.
One
of the more romantic images I've often conjured up in my mind in the past is that
of a picnic consisting of such items as wine, cheese, bread, and grapes. I have
the feeling that after this trip that will no longer be the case. I have had so
much bread since I got here that I probably wouldn't miss it if I didn't have
any for a long, long time. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't all white, but
it is. And one thing that's really driving me bananas (pun intended) is the
fresh fruits and vegetables are so expensive. A few nights ago I paid 38 francs
over $7 for an apple and a bunch (small) of grapes. I hope it's not that way in
all of Europe.
Picking
up where I left off several pages and trains of thought ago, After Sainte Chapelle's I went to the Pompidou center (another building that I studied) and
viewed their permanent collection of modern art. I have to admit that I was a
little disappointed because there were wasn't much there that really excited me
too much Picasso, Ledger, Braque etc . . . and not enough Warhol, Rothko,
Johns, etc . . . of course the first three I mentioned are all French (not Picasso) and the last three are all American (I didn't do that intentionally!) So
it seems I need to go to New York if I want to view modern art. Come to think
of it, in recent years Americans have really been on the cutting edge of the
developments in artistic trends. For once, they’re where the action is. For once I'm proud
to be an American!
Friday
wasn't so productive I intended to go to the Louvre but didn't get there until
three since I went via the best deal and had to walk quite a ways. The line at
the Louvre was long and I want to give myself several hours to get through it.
So I decided to save it for another day.
Saturday
I went with Sylvain to meet friends of his Olivia and Michele (Michele is a
man) we went to Olivia's flat and had lunch consisting of bread, cheese (imagine
that!) and tomatoes and smoked Chinese tea (in that sentence "smoked" is an
adjective, not a verb.) Michele started talking about the war. I don't
even remember what he said but he got absolutely no comment from me and so the
subject was quickly dropped. For a moment I felt a little guilty for not
responding to his comments but I think that if a subject arises which I find
unpleasant to discuss it is my prerogative not to do so. So I chose not to. At
any rate, it was a very nice lunch. Olivia's apartment building is in a
nice old arrondissement of Paris. Sylvain was telling me that a lot of apartments
are in old, renovated buildings, as is his. He said that Olivia's building
however is not that old only 300 years or so. That comment, as I'm sure you can
imagine, caused a very sudden realization of cultural differences.
Saturday night was spent bar hopping
since Sylvain is planning a party for which he chooses 6 bars and gives each
person invited a list of clues as to which bar to go to, and the last stop is
his apartment. He chose Saturday night to go to each one and look around (interesting
choice of words on his part, I think) and make sure he made good choices. When
we got back to his flat, Sylvain did something which displeased me but at the
same time I took it as a compliment he attempted to make a romantic advance on
me which I aborted very quickly and definitively. But I realized that, since he
can't see me, and I don't wear any perfume, the attraction mustn't be physical.
there must be something about my personality that he liked. It's been very
interesting staying with Sylvain because it's forced me to look at many things
from a new perspective
This morning Saturday I woke to a beautiful, springlike day. It was about 60 degrees and sunny. But I had no motivation. I didn't even go outside until about 5:00 PM I think the depression was caused by several factors. There was my sudden discomfort staying there with Sylvain because of his advance The night before. I wanted to just pack up my things and leave but I'm so low on money that staying at the hostel would not have been practical. Then there was the realization that I will be leaving Paris soon (hopefully) and that involves going to a new city which is unfamiliar (I feel very comfortable in Paris now because I know it well), finding someone to go with, finding an economical way to get there, etc… in short, it's the fear of the unknown. It's the same feeling that plagued me before my bicycle trip and before I left for this trip. I hope that someday I can overcome this fear. So I spent the afternoon washing clothes and at 5 I called Jerry. I had to leave the building to call since Sylvain's phone is restricted (he gets a lot of travelers and must be careful) when I went outside I discovered what a beautiful day it really was and decided to make my pilgrimage to Montmartre (mont-mart).
it is an area of Paris which has become very artsy because of the fame of the Moulin Rouge, made famous by Tallulah tracks painting at the Moulin Rouge. You can see this area in the postcard I sent you.
If I had visited the area before. I would not have bought the postcard. It has been degraded by a Quickie Burger (two stories!) next door and a sex shop underneath. It is the first real disappointment I have experienced in Paris. The Bastille was boring but that's because my expectations were not set very high. I had expected more from the Moulin Rouge. Anyway, Montmartre is on a hill, and at the top of the hill perches a magnificent basilican church which is over 5 centuries old and it's called Sacre Coeur, or the Church of the Sacred Heart. It sits atop the largest hill in Paris- a San Francisco-type hill. When I visited the Pompidou center on Thursday I had stepped outside to take in the panoramic view that the 5th floor afforded me and Sacre Coeur was just amazingly beautiful. It was by far the most outstanding feature of all that I could see more beautiful than Notre Dame or the Eiffel Tower. It really exceeded my expectations because I wasn't aware that it was here as it was for some reason, not a very well-known monument. Or maybe it is and I just somehow missed out. Anyway, I hate to try to explain how beautiful it was because I don't know if I can do it justice let me just say this as with the other chapels my tears were rolling. I'll write more soon.
[from
the postcard]
Dear
folks at home,
In my first day in Paris, I saw the Arc de Triomphe the outside of the Louvre, the
Eiffel Tower, the Seine, and the Pompidou Centre and I wasn't even sightseeing!
I was just trying to find a place to stay! I never knew that finding my way out
of an airport into the city would be so challenging, or rewarding! When I was
on the subway traveling towards my first destination, the tourist office, I
felt such a triumphant feeling because communication is so difficult when
hardly anyone speaks English! But I made it! I stayed in a youth hostel and met
lots of guys and girls from Australia it's their summer vacation and played
cards and was rowdy with them until about 3:00 in the morning. Now it's the
morning on Tuesday we're headed towards Notre Dame and who knows where else. I
won't be staying long in Paris long though I'm sure because it's very expensive.
But I don't know where the next stop is. I had no idea there were so few
blondes in this part of France! I really stand out here, without even trying! I
must go as the guys are getting restless and want to begin the big day of
sightseeing. I'll write more later
Love,
Julie
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