5.4.2014
A Portugese man and a Turkish woman in the guidance of a Portugese woman in Paris
I collapsed with jet lag at 10:30 pm in my tiny, cosy room on the third floor. Hotel Esmeralda is an old hotel, built in 1600s, tells Francisco, the receptionist, with whom I had communicated earlier. He is very friendly, speaks better English than I do French. We understand each other. I understand he is a partner in this business drawn into it by a friend of his. My friend Greg will learn from him later on that he is originally from Peru and came to Paris in 1980s.. The hotel has a narrow facade like those in Amsterdam, a steep staircase, thankfully Francisco volunteers to take my luggage to the third floor, on condition, I will stay by the reception desk in his place! Nice exchange, I take it.... Throughout the week, I will enjoy this medieval neighborhood with its churches, old medieval buildings and streets.
One of the oldest churches in Paris
When I wake up, there is the night staff at the desk and he doesn't speak English. I am on my own to find the metro station, which must be a different one than the RER train station. I do find it quickly, but getting the tickets is a different story. After, annoying my French fellow travelers at the ticket machine, which doesn't accept my credit card (apparently, certain French devices accept credit cards that have a PIN number only, thus American cards are out, fyi! shops and restaurants do accept American cards, too, though). Finally an elegant and smart French young woman figures out what my problem is and guides me to the next station where I can deal with a human being to get my tickets. Great relief for all the other Frenchmen that piled up behind me at this early hour of the morning! At the next entrance, there is a ticket booth and voila! I have 20 tickets for the week.
My friends from Portugal, traveling together with Teresa's guidance
My dear colleagues from the University of Porto, who are also attending the International Abusive Head Trauma Conference with me are in town and we make a plan for the evening. Teresa, who did her PhD in Paris on forensic evaluation of victims of crime with disabilities will be our guide today. Her colleague Agustino is also a first timer in Paris, just like me! Apparently, Teresa took him to Notre Dam yesterday along with Eiffel Tower and today their plan is to go to the Basilica du Sacre Cour and Montmartre. I wasn't necessarily planning to go there today, but that is OK, plans are made to be changed... After my talk, we meet and get on the metro. By the way, Paris metro is very good, serving the public in a very efficient and effective way. After one transfer, we are close to Montmartre. There is a totally different feel here, more funky, artsy and bohemian, just as i had imagined Paris to be. Except that I was expecting this air along the river, apparently it was to be found up on the hills of Paris.
Monmartre ambiance is indeed funky
Around us, I find a bit of Istanbul, a bit of Izmir, a bit of Ankara, and even a bit of Porto from the start as we start climbing up the hill on a meandering road around the hillside. Little cafes, small souvenir shops, lots of painters drawing, painting, coloring what mostly appears to be art for tourists. I stop at several of them by their desk and admire their skillful doing. As the crowd tightens, we feel we need to watch our belongings a bit better. The basilica is profound from the outside. Interior is extremely peaceful, gothic style, with scarce furniture; seating consists of single chairs arranged around a circle in the middle under the main dome. As in every church in Paris my friend Teresa tells me, all windows are covered with stained glass art with lots of biblical stories. Two front yards of the basilica terraced up the hill is covered with people of all colors and shapes. After climbing up the hill, I can see how they can appreciate the sun and the vistas of Paris as they relax on the grass.
After our visitation, we sit at a creperie. Teresa orders a "butter and sugar" crepe, the most traditional one and I order a cheese and mushroom one. Agustino will have a chocolate cake with ice cream. It is a great treat while we watch passers-by. A great place to watch the stream of people. Teresa tells me stories about how young people put on shows with their bikes and roller skates up and down this hill even the steps along the funicular that carries the people, who can't climb up the hill on foot. We crack up quite a bit over Teresa and Augustino constantly slipping in and out of two languages between French and Portugese even in response to my questions in English. Both of them realize they have been going on in French in response to one of my questions, sometimes realizing that only when I request "Englais, s'il vous plait!". We crack up over and over again...
Mulin rouge, quite a history around dance and music and much more...
We finally head down, Teresa is keen on showing us Moulin Rouge. I don't know what it is, I haven't read anything about it in my RickSteve book on Paris. It is something about dance and music. Teresa feels the need to ask somebody if we are in the right direction. We are, but, just as we depart, the gentleman hollers at Teresa "Madame!", we turn around and he makes the most interesting gesture: He puts his right index finger on his right cheek bone just below his eye and pulls his lower eye lid downward. When I am lost wondering what this means, Teresa's response is "Merci" with a pleasant voice. Wow, Teresa knows this unspoken language, one could have never learned anywhere but in Paris! Apparently, this means "Be watchful madame, pick-pocketers are out and about!" I crack up and hold onto my backpack that I carry in the front, better than before.
Music is part of Monmartre
As we move forward, I notice that the number of sex shops and shaky appearance of the neighborhood increase. We even pass by the Muse du Erotism. I start wondering whether this Moulin Rouge is something of a sex show. After all, Teresa, her team and I have an interesting story in Amsterdam. When we had decided to meet in front of the Oude Kirche in Amsterdam, I had unknowingly found myself in the red light district and that had caused a lot of laughter among the crew. I remind her and Agustino of our history and she protests with a smile: "No, no, no, this is really a good show. Everybody goes there, they eat dinner and watch the spectacle" It looks like it is something like a cabaret. We finally arrive in the square where MR is located with a huge crowd taking photographs. So do we, indeed it is a cabaret show. I guess this part of Paris is the night life section.
Shakespear and Company Bookstore
Time to go back. we get on the metro and depart upon our transfers, which are going to be to opposite directions. Before I drop off my load at the hotel, I decide to stop at the Shakespeare Company bookstore, which happens to be just underneath my hotel. It is indeed an interesting place. I climb up to the top floor to find a group of people listening to a man, and African man telling them the story of a woman. It sounds like a reading session, I approach the group to sit in. At the entry, a gentleman opens up room for me to sit on a bench. However, in a few minutes, people from the group start asking questions to him. This is not a reading session, I get it. I have to ask what it is to not intrude if I am not supposed to be there, but also not to be rude for leaving without a word. How did I get myself in this situation? I whisper to the man next to me "Is this a closed group meeting?" and sure enough he replies very politely "This is a writers' workshop". I apologize for intruding and leave them alone. The man's words still echoing in my ears "She was nice and caring some days, but druggie, obnoxious "feeling f..'d up" most of the time. I tried to write about her as honestly as I could..."
Once I come out from my hotel again around 9 pm, I discover there is a music show at Notre Dam tonight, I will take it. Since lines are prohibitive to be able to get into Notre Dam during the day, I am happy that I will be able to see the inside of the church, and good music is a bonus of course. I always find the inside of churches very peaceful although, what goes on behind the scenes in the entire church network may not always be as peaceful and good for human kind, especially looking at the medieval history of the religion... The music is in French, all the better, I don't understand most of it, this way I can only enjoy the aesthetic of both the instruments and the human voice. I do, my preconcert meditation turns into a lengthy one throughout the concert as well. finally refreshed following a full conference day and traveling one full quarter of Paris, it is time to go to bed again, in peace and content....
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| Stained glass windows at Notre Dam are best photographed at dusk |
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