Paris Day 3 – 31st Dec 1995
Versailles, Notre Dame, Seine, Blanche
31 Dec 1995
Versailles Palace
On 31st morning we went to the palace at Versailles, which is about 30 kms from Paris, but well connected by trains. (I can’t imagine what we’d have done if the public transport were on strike!) Versailles was glamorous and yes, beautiful. The township around it also had a less hurried pace, and I felt good for the first time after landing in France. The palace itself is slightly different from other palaces I’ve seen in India or the UK. The emphasis is not on glittering objects but on paintings and frescoes. Beautiful and life-like. You’d almost think the chappies in the ceiling would climb down and start walking around! The royal bed chamber had a king-size bed and lots of cushioned stools and chairs around it, almost as if for an audience! The gardens around are vast, but due to fog and bad weather, we couldn’t really stroll out much. I picked up a lapel pin (of sun god) and some more picture postcards to make up for the lack of photographs.
Then we hit Mac Donald’s. In the UK, I wouldn’t even look at Mac D’s but since France lacks Burger Kings, Mac D’s was the only option. And there too, they don’t have anything vegetarian except for potato fries and hot chocolate. ‘Je suis vegeterienne’ (pronounced something like ‘Jeh swee vay-jay-ta-ree-en’) is French for ‘I am vegetarian’. But barbarians that they are, they don’t really know what ‘vegetarian’ means, in any language. Fortified by potatoes and hc for us veggies (the others feasted on chicken burgers and the like), we continued back into Paris – towards Notre Dame Cathedral.
Notre Dame Cathedral
Walked in with the other tourists, and a mass was in progress. So tiptoed around and spoke in whispers. The lady who sung the hymns sang beautifully – though high pitched, her voice didn’t jar. I am not a believer in any god, but I feel a momentary sense of peace in churches and quiet temples. Perhaps it’s the atmosphere – everyone around you is sharing a common peace and serenity (except the tourists who are clicking away and talking in stage-whispers). We walked out of there and around, hunting for the spire – found it tucked away between folds and folds of other structures rising from the roof of the cathedral. The footpath behind the church is full of street artists displaying their paintings, caricatures, sketches and so on. I would have liked to browse and browse, but we had a city to get through. (A small aside for those on OpenPAS: I came back to Reading and am working on browse diary – so I am now browsing and browsing to my heart’s content – though not my preferred kind!) Anyway.
Our next item on the agenda was a visit to the Eiffel Tower. You are supposed to be able to see it from anywhere in Paris on a clear day, but by now you know where the emphasis lies. So, we caught our first glimpse of the great tower on 31st evening, from a distance of about 100 feet. Decided it was too foggy to go up, so we went to return in the new year and try again next day.
Seine boat ride
Walked across the road to the Seine for a boat ride. The girl on the boat (all references to P.G. Wodehouse are purely coincidental) explained to us the importance of each building or bridge we passed. What’s more, she spoke well in four languages – French, English, Italian and Spanish, and had a very sexy voice. There was the oldest bridge of Paris, the newest bridge, the wishing bridge, the pedestrian, the widest, and so on. This is not really surprising since the Seine is the only river flowing through the city! The boats on the river all have gaudy sodium vapour lights on the outside, to show us the sights along the river.
Amar and I went to the elevated structure across from the Eiffel Tower, to find out what it was – it turned out to be Palais de Chaillot – I quote – “a cultural center built in the 30s… containing four large museums”. The terrace in front offers a fantastic view of the Eiffel Tower, with dramatic fountains in the foreground. Some cinema festival was going on, but my ‘par-lay vooz ahng-glay’ (do you speak English) did not get any positive responses. So we couldn’t find out much.
Walk on the wrong side of town
The boys wanted to visit Blanche, a part of the city akin to Kamaathipura or Colaba in Bombay (I am told!) or Soho in London… they just wanted to walk along the roads and go to a Gujju restaurant for dinner. So that’s where we went next. After dinner, as we were walking back, we saw a chappie pick a fight with another chappie, and within minutes, he drew a knife. We were within a few feet of this scene, but not for long! We quickly crossed over and watched from a safe distance, but nothing happened. The last I saw, the others around were holding him back and pacifying him.
How not to ring in 1996
In Blanche station, the metro was very crowded and Amar had his pocket picked and lost his passport and credit card. We were planning to go to the Eiffel Tower and see the new year from there, but after this we tucked our tails and went back to the hostel. The security and hostel staff refused to help us beyond telling us that the nearest police station was at Gambetta. Luckily, it wasn’t too far. Amar, Venky and Vipul went there to lodge an FIR (a police report), while Jayesh, BG and I sat in the hostel lobby and waited for them. Thus we valiantly sailed into the New Year 1996, each of us a brown study, in more ways than one – half of us in battle with the French bureaucracy, while normal people, the rest of the hostel, were steadily getting more and more inebriated, and celebrating New Year’s Eve in the dining-hall-converted-to-disco.
The guys returned after 1:30 am. They couldn’t get an FIR lodged, since the police chowki wasn’t authorized to record one. This, after spending a lot of time in sign language, broken English and French with a dictionary and Fodor’s guide to Paris. A rather worried Amar went to bed, the rest of us trying to cheer him up with reassurances.
I didn’t see this, but Vipul says Paris celebrates New Year strangely – they step out onto their balconies and clatter dishes and spoons at each other at 12 in the night! Like how people in Baruch [Vipul’s hometown] do in a curfew, when they want to tell the police that something is wrong.
