Anyway, Day 2 in Paris (Return of the Seine) started out by trying to find something that was open. Even more so than Dublin, Paris rolls up the sidewalks on Sundays. Jenna and I finally found a little patisserie and had my first Parisian pastry, which was good but not on the top half of my list for the trip. Part of what I was paying for was being open on Sunday. We ate on the steps of this magnificent church that was all but ignored, because in Paris magnificent churches are a Euro dime a baker’s dozen.
Jenna had heard about a bird market that was being held close to Île de la Cité (the home of Notre Dame) so we made our way over. There were hundreds of birds, bird cages, bird food, and small pet mammals. The sound of chirping was inescapable and little birdies were hopping all around their cages. There were also chickens and ducks, which were also pretty cool guys. Among the mammals were bunnies who were begging to be petted and chipmunks who were doing flips through their cage.
Besides being dirty and ruthless, these pigeons are cruel. They flaunt their freedom right in front of their indentured cousins.
The moving white thing on the right is the stomach of the flipping chipmunk.
By now, we were hungry and found a cheap sandwich. While it was probably average quality for France, it was great to me. Chewy baguette, salty and tender chicken, and ripe produce. Yum.
Where did we eat our sandwiches? Nowhere special, only outside the most famous church in the world.
It is too massive to fit in one frame.
I’m just glad that none of the gargoyles came and stole my food.
The line was short, so we went in and walked under the soaring ceiling, by an actual service, and past luminous stained-glass windows.
Next we walked to the Pompidou Centre, a huge series of tubes (no, not those, Senator Ted Stevens) in the middle of a neighbourhood of classic Parisian architecture. How crass of whoever designed it, say the French, but I like it.
It is a contemporary art and design museum and exhibition centre named after a former President of the Republic. Jenna and I were tired of being on our feet at this point, so we didn’t go in to the actually museum. We did, however, walk through the gift shop and the book store. There were a lot of really clever gifts in there, but none quite worth the price. If they were selling a watch like the huge clock on the ceiling, though, it might be a different story.
There was also a series of fountains that looked steampunk or like they had been taken from a whimsical children’s book.
Since it was Sunday, and the French are too le tired to open stores on Sunday, Jenna thought we should go to one of the only areas of town that would be alive: The Jewish Quarter! I was first affronted by this cool wheatpaste (street art affixed to walls using a paste made from wheat flour).
My guess is that the white thing is Boo from the Mario games wearing a trucker hat and ready to eat an unsuspecting duck, who is reading that woman’s text message. I may be wrong, but don’t tell me so. I like my invented scenario.
The Jewish Quarter was bustling with tourists, fun shops, and food. We walked about, window shopping and such. We stumbled upon some strange open house by some group associated with the EU. Countries like Poland had tables set up to promote tourism (imagine a 6th grader’s geography project on one of those fold out project boards). On our way out of the area, Jenna and I picked up some groceries. I thought I walked into a larger than life cornucopia, but then I realized it was just a produce market.
We dropped our heavy bags off and rested our tired feet, as well as my ravaged immune system. I woke up a few hours before my flight to Paris with a tickly throat which led to a cold the whole time in Paris. Gross, but I pushed on like it wasn’t there. It eventually felt ignored and left. This was our hotel’s street. We were in the one with the blue sign on the left.
On the way to Montmartre and Sacré-Cœur, we stopped to look at Moulin Rouge.
Like my Photoshop skillz to combine 2 pictures into 1?!?
We continued to our destination. Sacré-Cœur is the home to some cool street performers, including an impressive breakdance trio. No good photo. The church was impressive, as you can see. The history is very interesting as well, read up on it at Wikipedia or some similar academic source.
The real reason Jenna wanted me to come to Montmartre is to try what she calls the best French onion soup ever. We sat down to have some (well, she had a crepe, but I had some) and I agree with her.
It was so good that I couldn’t be still enough for a picture. We tried this photo 3 times and this is the most focused.
We walked around Montmartre until it was after dark and we were tired. I really like the area. It is a little bohemian, a little cozy, a little toursisty, and a little artsy.
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