Day 2: Lessons in Overcoming Fear

The last time I was in Europe, having climbed numerous tall edifices to the top and not being too afraid, I thought that fear, at least from tall buildings and not cliffs overlooking the Bay, would dissipate as they had before. With that line of thought, I woke up around 9 this morning, tied back my heavy hair (made strange by the Dove shampoo I had to buy at the Franprix) as chicly as possible, and set off.

First fear: sitting in a cafe alone for the first time and ordering food in French.
At the small cafe on the Rue de Rivoli that I'd spied the night before, a French-speaking Japanese woman overrode my order for a "petit creme," saying "cafe creme?" instead. Ah well. I sat out in the terrace (really the sidewalk with heavy plastic and clapboard enclosing it), and drank while two other young women drank their cafe cremes and smoked their cigarettes. My best friend had given me 3 tasks in Paris: drink coffee in a cafe, smoke a cigarette, and hook up with a Parisian boy. I could only promise 2 out of 3. In order to do this, I went to a nearby Tabac to purchase the requisite cigarettes. Now I know why I only smoke cigarettes when tipsy. It's like pre-partying to get yourself ready to do something you don't normally do.

Began my walk using my Walking Paris book, but using it mainly for directions and less for what information was in it, as I'd read it the night before. Began at the Pont Sully, on the furthest end of the Ile St. Louis, where you're greeted by this small little house on the corner. Walked up the quay and down the Rue St. Louis, unsuccessfully able to find the door into the church but marking where the Berthillon shop is located. Then up the other side of the Ile St. Louis to cross onto the Ile de la Cite. Then came Notre Dame. The view from the little park behind, where you can see the buttresses and the stained glass of the ambulatory was amazing. I walked around to the front, hurrying in instead of taking photos like the throng outside on the Parvis de Notre Dame (the square in front of the church is called a parvis), and joined in the noon mass. There was a policeman sitting to the left of me during mass, and he was praying fervently. I wondered whether something was troubling him or if he just always prayed so passionately. I could understand the ire of the locals at foreigners and/or tourists who persisted in taking flash photography all during mass. I suppose after a while they give up hope of stopping this practice altogether.

After walking around the ambulatory, I exited and got in line for the Tower climb, where I bought my 6-day Museum Pass. Oh...the steps...I'd forgotten about the stone steps in such monuments, narrow and worn smooth and sloping from the thousands, millions of tourists every year. Thankfully, every time the climb got just too much, there was a little alcove in which one could catch one's breath.

Stepping out onto the Galerie du Chimeres (the Gallery of Gargoyles), excitement over seeing the strange stone creatures in the flesh, so to speak, vastly outweighed my concerns that if not for the wire "cage" they'd built, I would undoubtedly not have made it around the very narrow balconies with their sheer drop. Taking very very deep breaths, I walked around to see the large bell, named "Emmanuel", who has been put out of commission and now sits up in a dark belfry. You go through a tiny wooden door and up a flight of wooden stairs (through mesh netting on the sides of the stairs you can see the structure of the cathedral going all the way down, and the sounds of another mass beginning). The bell is enormous, and I can imaging Quasimodo swinging from a thick rope trying to ring it. In the other belfry the bell rang, and I half expected both towers to start shaking. Thankfully, they didn't.

Outside, there was the option of going all the way to the top or begin your descent onto terra firma. I wavered. My legs seemed to either not have recovered from the day before or simply grow weak at the thought of getting further from the ground. In the end I opted for the better part of valor ad climbed up more stairs to the top. It was windy, but the view was even more amazing. Sometime after I'd made my way around the tower to get the full 360-degree view, the wind began to blow even harder, so hard that the wire "cage" we were in began to sway. Time to leave.

Going down the steps was just as difficult, if not more difficult than climbing. Legs all wobbly, steps sloping downwards so one little misstep could send you bottom-first down the endless spiral staircase. I kept my eyes on the people in front of me and just kept pace with them. Before I knew it, we were outside. Yes, I deserved a treat, a very nice lunch in the Brasserie de L'Ile St. Louis, right where the bridge connects both islands. The owner and server were both very friendly, the one even tut-tutting me for not finishing my large platter of very sagnant (trans. 'bloody') roast beast because I was busy writing. Well, it had to be that bloody because I'm sure if cooked any more it would be inedible. It was rare at its rarest, just the way I like it.

It had rained while I ate lunch, but had slowed to a very light mist by the time I set out to finish my walk. Back on the Ile de la Cite, I went to the Conciergerie, the old prison where they kept Marie Antoinette before they beheaded her. There were a couple of rooms where they had recreated her cell, with two 'soldier' figures on one side of a low privacy screen and, seated with her back facing you, a black-veiled figure who looks as if she may turn around at any moment. Too much like a horror movie in the making for me. Upstairs they showed different cells, those for peasants who couldn't afford beds to sleep on while in jail (who could, really...you're in jail...) and those for noblemen or the bourgeoisie who could at least afford cots and a double or single room.

Down the block from the Conciergerie was Ste. Chapelle, which I dearly wanted to see, but the line outside was fifty people deep and five people wide. I was too tired to even think, much less push past all these people. I took the long way home, crossing the Pont au Change and walking around my quartier until I got to the hotel. If it is a little sunnier tomorrow I may go to Ste. Chapelle first thing, as the doors open, before heading off to the Louvre and Orangerie and perhaps the Arc.

Hoping to be on Paris time by tomorrow.