Bonjour! I can tell you -- morning comes early on this trip. After breakfast at the hotel (how I love the drinkable yogurt and pastries... I've gained an easy ten pounds), we set off for the Eiffel Tower. However, after several failed attempts we discovered that the machines at the metro station did not want to accept foreign debit or credit cards (this after I rudely wondered what the hold up was in line... once we got to the front and were the holder-uppers I was very repentant). Not only was it frustrating, but an arctic wind was blasting through that front part of the metro station where the petulant ticket machines are located. Eventually, we left The Dad to figure it out, and The Sister and I took the children up to the sunshine. It was a good thing that we did, as they rescued a bee who was somehow rendered flightless, from being trampled on. By the time they were done with the rescue mission he was dusty, but safe.
Finally (after having to resort to cash), we were on our way. The space between the metro stop and the Eiffel Tower reminds me of my time in China because of the amount of people who approach to sell trinkets. Further from the tower little keychains are sold fairly consistently for three for one euro. Closer to the tower you can get four for one euro (the reasoning must be that you're a tough nut to crack if you've made it that far without buying them, so the incentive needs to be sweeter). I told the kids how in China I, or a friend, would buy something off the street for like one dollar and feel really good about the purchase, then somebody else from the group would come back and be all: look, I got TWO for one dollar! And bitterness would well up. Over a dollar. The negotiating culture releases an inner beast.
Another way that euros and tourists are parted is via creative panhandling. This usually takes one of two forms: pets or games. The latter is usually a guess-what-cup-it's-under variety. Why would anybody in their right mind think that they can outsmart somebody who is willing to stand on the street and play that game all day for a living? The former... Well, let's just say that The Girl has convinced us to contribute to pet maintenance. Perhaps the most unusual has been the bunnies. There was a large rabbit, and four bunnies. There were no tethers or cages, just happy bunnies who licked each other and pumped their petite noses. We couldn't chuck our change into the bowl fast enough.
The two other visits I've made to the Eiffel Tower have consisted of taking the lift to the 2nd floor. But our group was feeling restless, and perhaps a bit bitter at having stood in line so long for metro tickets, so we opted to take the stairs to the 2nd floor (strangely, the queue for the stairs was quite short). It made me appreciate how tall the tower is. While resting, we read some information that gave some history of the tower -- how it was only to be up for 20 years, people thought it was hideous, blah, blah, blah, blahtity blah (actually, some of the criticism about it sounded very similar to what is said about the London Eye), and then its permanent status was secured when it was turned into a transmitter tower. In fact, it was because of the Eiffel Tower that many people throughout Europe were able to watch Queen Elizabeth II's coronation in 1953.
The option from the 2nd floor is to go back down, or slap down some more euros and take the lift up to the top. We decided to do that. Barf. The way up felt like we were about to be shot off the top -- it went a lot quicker than I was expecting, and the windows were a lot... clearer...
There are 347 steps up to the 1st floor, and 674 steps up to the 2nd floor. I felt every single one of them. The kids just chatted away as if we were strolling through the park.
It was a brilliant move on somebody's part to put a dummy on the outside of the lift where the operators used to sit. Very cool. Note: everybody using the lift were SOFT.
It's so cool how you can see the rues extending out from the Arc de Triomphe.
To the catacombes.
To be honest, I didn't really know what this was. I just follow along on these trips, occasionally contributing, often complaining... However, as we made it to the front of the line (took a while), and I started making out the word "disturbing" and "nervous dispositions" on the signs I demanded some clarification. Clarification gained, I suggested that this not be something that we do as a family. The Sister really wanted to go, so I tried to back out of the line with the kids, only to be told that the end point was several blocks away. Sigh. The Dad backed out with the kids, and I started the descent down below the streets of Paris.
It all started because of geology. Limestone happened. Billions of years later limestone was found. Limestone was wanted. Limestone was quarried as early as 1292... and many of the beautiful buildings that make Paris Paris show how it was used. Those mines were underground as Paris sprawled for the next few hundred years, and eventually, there were cave-ins. In the 18th century the government began a program to stabilize the quarries. Stabilized, they became the perfect place to alleviate a problem that was developing: the living being overrun by the dead. Cemeteries, specifically the Saints Innocents were taking in way more bodies than their grounds could absorb and the mass of decaying matter was an origin of infection for the inhabitants of the area. Something had to be done, and so the quarries were consecrated and the bones were chucked in the tunnels. Eventually, some organization kicked in (kind of macabre organization, if you ask me -- stacks of leg and arm bones with skulls facing out). There are over six MILLION bodies exhumed in the ossuary. And I felt like I saw all six million. The thing that was hard was to not feel crazy. On one hand your instinct is to start to shut everything out, by way of preservation, as you walk past unbelievable amounts of bones. On the other hand, you're trying not to lose perspective of the fact that these are human remains that deserve respect. It was a trip. People were taking pictures, and I felt icky about that. A person's grave is one thing, an anonymous person's skull propped up on a stack of hundreds of femurs is all together different.
It was interesting to be there with The Sister. For a long time she wanted to be a forensic anthropologist and she is brilliant with bones. She was pointing things out. It would have been very educational if I wasn't mentally checked out (the mental equivalent of humming and rocking back and forth). Recently, as she's taken some college classes, talked to friends, and registered for full-time college for the fall she has switched from forensic anthropology to medicine. As we walked through the bones (and there were so many) she said, "I'm glad that we did this. I feel very confident in my decision to change my major. It's not that it freaks me out, it's just that I don't like it." And there you have it. If you have a teenager that you love tell you that he or she feels confident with a major decision, then you will gladly walk through miles of underground tunnels seeing millions of skeletons and breathing in who knows what. It was definitely worth it. Definitely interesting. Definitely not something that I ever need to do again.
Here's a picture looking up as we started the long walk out. The tunnels themselves are very impressive.
There are sculptures done by a quarryman who was a veteran of Louis XV's army. They are impressive, though I can't figure out why anybody would spend off hours down there. I was more than ready to resurface.
We felt like we needed a shower. It was time for lunch. The Dad and the children acted as hunter gatherers and came back with fromage, from a fromagerie, fruit, water, and drinkable yogurt. We stopped at a boulangerie to get baguettes and french pastries, and then headed over to Parc Souris. It was perfect. Everything tasted so good, and the park was so pretty. We sat in a little gazebo area and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.
Of course, everybody needed to use the toilet. And Paris, she is stingy with her public toilets. On the way to the metro The Dad pointed out a cool city university that has houses from different countries done in the architecture of that country. Perhaps there's toilets on campus? We walked in to the main building with purpose and found some toilets. They were of the French variety -- meaning men and women share the same room. Kind of weird, and they weren't super clean, but we were grateful nonetheless.
And then it was time to go to one of The Girl's favorite places -- Jardin d'Acclimatation. It's a smorgasbord of little carnival rides, live animals, playground, puppet shows, local kids taking equestrian lessons, french moms pushing strollers in high heels, a very tall dovecote, flowers, ponds, etc. and so forth.
The kids rode plastic horses that jerkily, and quickly take you around a lovely little track. We saw many animals and birds. One of the things that we've learned on this trip is that all the babies are born in May/early June... so there are new little things everywhere. We especially appreciated some little ducklings that we saw who were all in one big pile snoozing. The Girl was purely happy. The Boy also enjoyed himself, for the animals and rides, but also for a piece of equipment in the playground. It was a sturdy metal thing with a seat, and you had to maneuver two different levers to make the scoop work. The surrounding sand was properly compliant and the kid happily spun around on the seat and dug with purpose. When frenchies would come up and talk to him he politely nodded and gave turns (whether that's what they wanted or not we'll never know), and as soon as the other child finished he slipped back into position, and into the zone. It is always good to watch your kids outdoors and happy.
We stayed until we were kicked out. In fact, as one of the last families in the park the kids got to ride that dreadful ride where you sit in swings hanging from long chains and you get raised and you go around and around high up in the air. I had to make myself stop screaming things up to them ("Stop leaning over!"). They shared a double seat and they looked so sweet up there together. Only the two of them amongst all those empty swings, and so vulnerable with just that thin bar in front of them, but together and laughing.
Back by our hotel we wandered the neighborhood (for far too long) before settling in at a restaurant and having some very bloody meat ("medium" means something different here). It will be tragic when we no longer get to take our meals outside. We are starting to feel the pinch of the trip coming to an end, and we don't like it.
