Even in the winter, when it drizzles. I needed a change of pace and an adventure, so I took myself off to Paris.
From where I live on the East Coast, it’s not that much more difficult to get to Paris than it is to get to the West Coast, which I’ve done with some regularity over the past few years, but it’s been a long time since I’d been to Europe. Why Paris? Why not? The timing, the airfare, a bunk in a conveniently located hostel, and the chance to see a friend of a friend performing on trapeze in the Cirque D’Hiver all conspired in my favor.
By coincidence, I was there on the weekend of the grand reopening of Notre Dame de Paris, nearly six years after the catastrophic fire that engulfed the spire and the roof.
Not being a global dignitary, I wasn’t invited to join in the festivities, but I could see some of them from afar. The security presence in the area was most impressive. Later, when non-VIPs were once again permitted inside, the line for timed tickets was also most impressive. Not being patient, I didn’t join it. It’s still a beautiful and monumental presence, and it amuses me how well the fractal scaffolding coordinates with the elaborate gothic details. Is scaffolding the new flying buttress?
Prior to my trip, I secured tickets to see the Europe’s oldest circus perform in this 19th century wedding cake of a building. The show was spectacular, and while I admit I’m partial, the Flying Tabares were a highlight among all the fantastic acts. I had ballet tickets too, but in possibly the most French thing ever, the performance was cancelled when some of the dancers went on strike.
But overall, I was there without an agenda. I didn’t have a list of top sights to see or museums to visit or foods to eat.
I visited the catacombs, which are just as peculiar and atmospheric as they sound.
I visited the cheese museum (I admit the tasting following the tour was the real attraction). I spent a lot of time riding the subway to different neighborhoods and then walking around until I got hungry or tired, and then found a cafe to sit in for a while.
My first ever stay at a hostel was quite pleasant. It was comfortable enough, clean, and secure. The one surprise was that almost everybody staying there spent their time head down in their laptop, or walking around with headphones. Nobody was really interacting with their fellow travelers, which was not what I was expecting from a hostel. Not a complaint— I was there for cheap accommodations in the heart of the city, not necessarily to meet new people— just not what I was expecting.
The weather, however, was exactly what I was expecting. It was cold and drizzly and grey every single day. Between the humidity and a severely underpowered hairdryer loaned out from the front desk, I spent my time in one of the world’s style capitals having perhaps the worst hair days of my life. Somewhere around day 2 I bought a hat. I may not take it off until Spring.