Day 8 – Last Hours in Paris

This is our last morning in Paris.

That was not actually my first thought this morning (the real first thought was likely about turning the alarm on my phone off), but it probably should have been. (Sara adds that my second thought of the morning may have been getting her up, since she tends not to spring out of bed immediately following the phone alarm.) [After much debate – to quote Sara – and noting that “this wasn’t as much debate as the previous thing” – I will add that I want to start this next sentence with “anyway,” but I won’t.] So, last morning in Paris, very depressing, j’étais très triste and all that. Truly though, I mourn.

At breakfast, Sara ordered all by herself, and the waitress smiled and was proud of her, and it was excellent and great fun and I shall miss that tomorrow. When she brought the food out, she said, “J’arriverai avec le lait,” and then asked me how to say that in English. I told her, evidently too quickly, and then repeated myself more slowly. She said English was difficult, which I suppose is true if one is trying to learn it as a second language! Regardless, this incident represents why I loved breakfast at our Paris hotel! As such, I wrote her a note (en français, bien sûr), essentially explaining that she was the highlight of our mornings and so on. (I assure our DEAR READERS that it was, in fact, a very brief note, which, in case you’re curious, was signed les deux jeunes filles américaines.) (“You signed it for me! That’s illegal!” – “It wasn’t your name! It doesn’t count!” Sara did not actually read the note, nor have me translate, before we left.)

La Cathedral de Notre Dame. Cue "Bells of Notre Dame," which sadly, Miel doesn't actually know.

After checking out (sadness), we walked to Notre Dame, which is of course grand and lovely. We took pictures. Honestly, there’s not much to say. Sara felt it was a bit more touristy than Sainte Sulpice, which is true, and so weird, because real religious stuff actually occurs there, and yet one can also get a medallion/coin thing and various other souvenirs in the cathedral proper. I really can’t imagine going to services there. I suppose it would be interesting and cool in a way to actually worship there (if I were Catholic), due to the history and such, but, as Sara says, “also really sucky,” given that tourists would be wandering around taking pictures all the time. Fun fact: next year marks its 850^th anniversary, so they’re doing various renovation/cultural work.

The inside of Notre Dame. Very archy!

Once finished with Notre Dame, we walked to Sainte Chapelle, which was built to house various relics; it now also honors St. Louis, who was a long-ago king of France. I was rather surprised by the fact that a king managed to become a saint. Either the Church is corrupt or he was really unique. Regardless, it was very pretty, and we tried to get pictures of the various details.

Sainte Chapelle - lots of colors and stained glass.

Next, we got on the métro towards a librairie (bookstore) that Madame Dessi-Olive recommended. We actually bought tickets here, and amazingly, I had held it in my hand for all of fifteen seconds before it didn’t work. Luckily, this sort of thing happens all the time to real French people, and a nice gentleman let me go through with him. We found L’arbre à lettres fairly quickly (it’s literally just down the street from the Bastille métro station), and it was wonderful. Sara remarked on the fact that basically all of the book jackets are the same, which is true (each brand really has one spine look that they use for all of their books). It was amusing to note all of the translations they had, and not only of British classics, but also of science fiction and fantasy books. It’s a lovely little shop and I’ve decided I quite like French bookshops.

We then headed back towards the métro, and (of course) found that neither of our tickets worked. I marched over to the ticket window, and the employee informed me that we had weekend tickets, so they weren’t supposed to work at all. I have no idea why Sara’s worked that first time. Regardless, we had to buy new tickets (Paris métro definitely made a profit off of us) and returned to the Quartier Latin. Once there, we ate lunch (for the last time in Paris), at a place specially picked by Sara due to the fact that it sold lemon Fanta. I love French sandwiches.

Just for you, Kait.

Fed and watered [Fanta-ed], we returned to the hotel and picked up the umbrella we’d left hanging in the closet (above the chair), along with our luggage. Then, it was off to the train station! We had a five and a half hour train ride from Paris to Nice. As Sara puts it, it was essentially like going from home (Minnesota), through Colorado and bits of Montana, and into California. (She’s referring to change in vegetation and architecture styles.) We both read (Sara, Game of Thrones; me, Légère comme un papillon) and slept some, as well as looked out the window to view the French countryside. For the last couple hours, we went along the coast, and the towns we passed were everything a southern French town was supposed to be: charming houses and apartment buildings nestled into hillsides that fall towards reddish brown rocks along the sea. Also, it helped that as we traveled south, it became sunny! The coast is gorgeous, so I suppose this should make us future California girls excited for our next big adventure.

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE! As in, this adventure isn’t even close to being over yet. In Nice, we’re staying in a legitimate hostel for the first time. Sara remarked that it’s like summer camp and college combined. The staff members seem to be British, not because they have very strong accents, but because they say things like “cheers” and the hostel has signs regarding our “rubbish” and such. We had dinner in their restaurant/bar (no, we’re not drinking, although it seemed that pretty much everyone else was) and then made our way back to the room to charge our various electronic devices and write this note to our LOVELY READERS. We were clever and uploaded our pictures while we were writing, so this is going directly to the internets for YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE.

More southern France tomorrow!

-       Miel & Sara

P.S. Miel is now in the shower, but would like me to add that we visited both Stalingrad and St. Paul during our journeys. (These are métro stops in Paris, which we thought amusing.)