Side note: Before going further, I must remind everyone that this was the year 2000, and in Europe. Internet access was very hard to come by (or very expensive) and slow. Other than buying my airfare online, I do not think I did any other travel planning via the Internet. I also did not have a cell phone.
After landing in Paris, I went to an airport information booth to inquire about deals on hotels room. (Yes kids, this was the old school way of scoring a last-minute deal.) It was a good thing I could speak a little French, because the information lady did not speak English. I was shown a binder (yes, an actual three-ring binder with paper) with some options. When I saw something I liked in my price range, I hopped an Air France bus to my destination. (The information lady explained that I could only get to the hotel by bus, not the Metro because the Metro did not go to Orly Airport.) When I got off at my stop (Montparnasse), I wasn't exactly sure how to get to the hotel. All I had were some paper maps and a vague description of where the hotel was. After walking around a while, and catching my first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower, somehow I found the hotel. Once I got in my room though, I knew I made the right choice!
I loved the window! And the street was super cute too!
My map. My best friend during this trip!
The Louvre is probably the most famous art museum in the world, so I had to check it out. The line to purchase tickets was quite long, and I was upset that I could not get a student discount. Once inside, I finally realized how massive the museum actually was. I wandered up and down the halls, and was disappointed that I saw almost no works of art that I recognized. Everything seemed to be war paintings of what I assumed was the French Revolution. I walked the halls fairly quickly, now on a mission to find the Mona Lisa. Once I found it, that was rather disappointing as well. (If you or anyone you know has been here, you know what I mean.) The painting itself is housed in a glass viewing box. Huge crowds gather around the painting, so you can only see it once you work your way toward the front. When you do, you see that the painting is actually much smaller than you had imagined. So then you think to yourself, "What's the big deal about this painting, anyway." I wandered around a little more after that, saw the statue of Venus de Milo (which I took a picture of...more on that later), passed through some decorated rooms with old dishes and jewelry, and eventually found my way out.
I took some photos in the area around the Louvre, and decided what I should do next. I learned about a Fashion Museum (Musée de la Mode), and I thought it sounded great...and so French! The museum was on Woodrow Wilson Street, so I walked in that direction. When I got to the right spot, I was confused as to why I couldn't find the museum. I finally realized that I was actually on Franklyn D. Roosevelt Street. (I guess I figured there wouldn't be more than one street named after an American president.) Once I got back on the right path, I found it. I thought the museum had fashions on display from the 1960s to 2000, and I liked it a lot.
After that, I sat down on a bench outside to gather my thoughts and figure out my next move. I decided to take the Metro over to Montmartre to check out Sacré-Cœur. I did't know exactly what Sacré-Cœur was, other than it being an old church and one of the top tourist spots in Paris, so I had no expectations. As I walked up the road from the Metro, I thought this part of town was a bit shabby, and the stores along the road were full of crap. But all of a sudden I looked up and saw a perfectly green grassy hill with the most beautiful, creamy white building that I have ever seen. I was in awe for a few seconds as I gazed at it. Then, it finally popped into my head that I had to take a picture of this. I reached for my camera, but couldn't find it. A little worried, I went over to the steps on the hill to set my backpack down and search around. My camera was still nowhere to be found. Within 30 seconds I went from sheer bliss to full-on panic.
I thought back to when I last remembered having my camera. I had not used it since getting on the Metro. I decided I had two options: 1: Retrace my steps to try to find it (all the while hoping that the camera was actually lost and not stolen.) 2: Forget about my camera and just continue with my day. As much as I hated the idea of wasting time and energy to retrace my steps, I felt this was what I needed to do. My camera had been a gift from my mom. I wanted my camera back, as well as the roll of film inside that had photos of my last few days at school in Spain, and who knows what else. I did a quick walk through of Sacré-Cœur before heading off.
Side note: Remember, this was before people had cell phone cameras and digital cameras.
I returned to the Metro, and actually was able to get an employee at that station to call the station I started at, to see if I accidentally left my camera on the counter when purchasing my ticket. My camera was not there though. I was going to call the Fashion Museum, but the pay phones only accepted phone cards. So I went into a nearby hotel and the receptionist kindly called the museum for me, but my camera was not found there either. On the verge of a nervous breakdown, I went back to the last place I remembered taking a picture, and continued retracing my steps from there. It really sucked because I had to "get lost" all over again, walking down FDR and Woodrow Wilson. My feet hurt so badly. I got all the way back to the Fashion Museum and did not find my camera.
I'm sure my response to all of this was over-dramatic, but I was devastated. I was alone, and upset, and all I wanted was to talk to my mother. So that's what I did. I found a pay phone and made a COLLECT call home . . . from FRANCE. (See, I told you I was over-reacting.) In retrospect, I'm sure my response was just the culmination of a stressful summer of living in a foreign land, being tired of speaking languages other than English, and missing my family.
My mom accepted the call and I blubbered and cried as I explained the situation. The call made me feel better and calm down. Prior to my trip, I had been trying to decide if I wanted to spend one day visiting Versailles or go to Disneyland Paris, as I only had time to do one or the other. While talking to my mom, I made up my mind. I was fed up and I wanted to have a free-spirited, no-hassle day where I could feel like a kid again. I was going to Disneyland!
Side note: I still have never been to Versailles.
I went on with the rest of my day as originally planned. But first, I stopped into a mini mart to find a disposable camera. (Remember those things? They actually had a practical purpose.) I did not know the word for camera in French, and saying "camera" with a French accent got no response from the employee at the register. I looked around the store until I finally spotted what I was looking for. Armed with my new camera, I headed back out.
Side note: The photo of my hotel room above was taken with my disposable camera. The photo of my map was taken now.
With all the time I spent retracing my steps earlier, I never got around to eating lunch, and I was starving! By now, it was dinner time, which in Europe means 8 or 9pm. I found a nice casual-yet-slightly-fancy restaurant with a great view along the Seine and sat down at my table for one. I asked for tap water (since I'm cheap and refuse to pay for bottled water if tap water is clean and available), and it was brought to me in a pretty, large blue glass bottle. I poured myself a glass, and realized that I was parched. Not only had I not eaten lunch, I don't think I had drank anything either. I went through that bottle faster than I've drank anything else in my whole life. The waiter was really nice and helped me figure out what to get. I ordered some sort of fish dish and a salad, which was simple greens and dressing but I totally loved it. The waiter brought me a basket of bread too. I ate everything, not caring if it was polite or impolite to scarf down the bread...and the tap water. I was a poor college student, alone in an unfamiliar city, and still upset about my camera. (FYI: My entire meal was about $14.)
View from across the Seine.
After dinner, it was already dark. Although I would have preferred to view it up close in the day light, I decided to go to the Eiffel Tower. Upon arriving, I learned that the lines to ride the elevator to the top were ridiculously long. If I would have bought my ticket then, I would have had to wait at least 1-2 hours for my turn. I contemplated if it was worth waiting or not. At that same moment, a woman from a tourist group came by saying that she had one extra ticket to sell. Finally, I caught a lucky break! She sold me the ticket and I got to go on the elevator right away. I don't remember what I thought of the elevator ride itself, other than being surprised that it was actually a few different elevator rides and not one long ride. It was dark when I reached the top, but the view was still amazing.
Side note: While writing this post and looking for my mementos, I came across a journal that I kept the entire summer I was in Europe, to include this trip. I had no recollection of keeping this journal and probably hadn't looked at it in over 12 years. I was so happy to find it, and it made for a much better re-telling of this trip since a lot of my memories were incomplete. Thanks year 2000 Lisa!
From my journal.
The following day was my visit to Disneyland Paris. (It was no longer known by it's former name, Euro Disney.) I took the train there, as the park is not actually in Paris itself, but on the outskirts of town. As I reached the gates, some employees were doing a survey of the guests entering the park. An employee asked me where I was from in French. For some reason I looked at her dumbfounded. She said either, "England or English," and I said "yes." Then I just kept on walking for a few seconds before I thought, "Wait a minute. I'm not English. I'm American." Oh well, surveys aren't an exact science anyway.
My ticket. (That's "Honey, I shrunk the Audience" in French.)
At least I fit in with my super modern disposable camera!
I loved every minute of my trip to the park. (At this time, Disneyland Paris only had one park. It now has two.) It was kind of neat being alone. When I reached each ride, the employees were all surprised when I would say "une" or "one" when they asked how many. Some replied, "Seule tous?" ("Only you?"). I had never been to any DisneyLAND park before, so lots of things were new to me, like the Storybook Canal Boats, Casey Jr's Circus Train, and the huge façade of It's a Small World. I was also pleasantly surprised that most of the lines were not long. The evening ended with the Main Street Electrical Parade (yay!) and fireworks. My time in the park really was one of the most calming and joyful days of my life.
Looking at It's a Small World.
The Storybook Canal Boats sign. (Literally, "The Land of Fairytales.") I don't know why, but I was mesmerized by this ride.
Side note: As I reflect on this now, I realize that I must have had no idea how to use the Fast Pass system, as my souvenir park map clearly marks 3 rides as having Fast Pass, and I know I did not do this. Fast Pass probably didn't exist yet the last time I was at Disney World prior to this trip.
See, I'm an idiot. (FYI: Alice's Curious Labyrinth was awesome. Le Visionarium was not. Also, did you notice it is "Discoveryland," not "Tomorrowland?")
Additional side note, courtesy of my journal: When I got back to the hotel, I watched some TV. Nothing good was on, so I watched some bizarre music videos. Through this, I learned that Kylie Minogue looked nothing like she used to when I was obsessed with her version of "Locomotion."
On day 3, I started by checking out the Rodin Museum. I really liked this place! The museum itself is located in a historic mansion. It had lots of Rodin's statues in the back garden, and I liked almost every one of them. Inside the house, in addition to more of Rodin's work, was a collection of artwork he owned, which included some impressionist works.
The Thinker.
What I really had been wanting to see were the masterpieces of Monet, Renoir, and such, and I figured out that I needed to go the Musée de l'Orangerie. However, it was closed for renovations, and due to this many of its works were moved to the Musée d'Orsay. Once inside, I was a very happy girl. It had just what I was looking for - impressionist art everywhere! There were many other famous pieces too, like Whistler's Mother, and a collection of antiques. Plus the museum itself is located in a former train station. It was probably the best museum I had ever been to. (I have no idea if I would still like it though, with some things being moved back to the Musée de l'Orangerie.)
Side note, courtesy of my journal: For lunch I got a baguette sandwich with cheese, lettuce, tomato, hard-boiled egg, and dressing. I thought it was amazing and wished there were sandwiches like this back home. (Flash forward four years later, and little did I know that I would become so sick of finding nothing to eat but these sandwiches while in France.)
I worked my way over to Place de la Concorde and the Champs-Élysées, which I had visited two days prior, before I lost my camera. I took new photos, but based on the few (horrible quality) pictures I have of this trip, I really must have been trying to limit myself to just that one disposable camera.
Looking down the Champs-Élysées. That really small fuzzy thing in the center is the Arc de Triomphe.
The only picture of me from this trip.
I just loved the old architecture throughout the city.
After my photo ops, I hopped on the Metro to visit the Musée Carnavalet, because one of my schoolmates recommended it. It is located inside two mansions and contains historical paintings, decorated rooms, and such. It was decent and free, but looking back, I should have chose to go to the Picasso Museum over this.
Next, I worked my way over to Notre-Dame Cathedral. It was nice, but not as beautiful and big as I was expecting. I just didn't feel that it compared to the magic of Sacré-Cœur. I had to get to the airport, so I was not able to tour the inside of the church.
I tried to speak French as much as I could on this trip, and I definitely learned a lot about French art, architecture, and culture. Plus, I had not come across a truly rude French person once! That is, until I got to the airport. I had a few francs left to spend, so while waiting for my flight, I stopped at one of the quick-service cafés in the airport. In French, I asked for a croissant, which I was very excited to try since I had not eaten one yet while in Paris. The man behind the counter gave me a nasty look and responded with something to the effect of, "You stupid American. Don't you know that croissants aren't sold or eaten after breakfast?" As I walked away, I cursed him under my breath, and I'm sure I was probably ready to cry because I was disappointed and hate when people are mean. Merci beaucoup for ending my trip on a high note, jerk!
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