Arriving in Paris

This morning, my host mother and I departed by train at 6:30 for Paris.  It was a very beautiful train ride that showcased the geographical variability of France.  The first part of the journey, I was looking at all the life.  There plants and birds and rocks and things there… *ahem* I mean, there was much elevation change as we rode through the Central Massif, a giant series of plateaus and hills, but after that it was mostly flat countryside with occasional small villages clustered around a tall-medieval church.  I was caught off guard when I saw white on the ground, it taking me a second recognize it as snow after spending the wintery season in Mediterranean Montpellier.  It was only after disembarking from the train that I was thrown for a real shock: it was actually snowing.  Yes, it was cold, but I was excited nonetheless to actually experience light snowfall (my apologies to you in Michigan in the midst of a tempest). 

My hostel is in the Montmartre district, once famous in Paris’s “Belle Époque” as the pre-WWI bohemian, counter-culture, art district.  The window in my room is a great view of the famous church the Basilica Sacré-Coeur, which dominates the top of the hill that the district is built upon.  I arrived at the hostel at eleven, but check-in wasn’t until four.  So I left my things in storage and set out exploring.  It wasn’t long before I was drawn up the hill to Sacré-Coeur.  It is quite a climb up to the stairs to the basilica, which is then yet another climb to the building itself.  The view of Paris alone is worth the view.  It was a foggy morning, but looming out in the distance along the skyline were Paris’s iconic monuments. 

After wandering around looking for a place to eat, I found a nice little café and ordered couscous and chicken, which was exquisite and very filling.  I can already tell that eating here will be expensive, but luckily my hostel serves breakfast and there are other ways to cut down on costs, so it won’t hurt my wallet too bad and I will still be able to savor Parisian cuisine.

After lunch, I wandered the streets of Montmartre and discovered the trap of Paris that is at both times its greatest menace and most endearing charm: you never know what is around the next corner and it gives you the most yearning desire to find out.  I went up and down the side-streets of that hill many times, exploring little shops and finding interesting, little-known historical spots.  This city is just gushing with history in a way that no American city can rival.  I saw  several restaurants which claimed to have been frequented by the major figures of the art-nouveau scene and other Belle-Époque poets and artists, so I figure that among those at least one or two were being honest about it.  I also found the two remaining “moulins” (windmills) that at one time were iconic landmarks of the district. 

I do not yet know what I’m going to do tonight, but            whatever it is, it’ll be done in Paris.