Normally, I don't care for lines, or hordes, or foul smelling subway tunnels, but I would go back to all that in a second. None of it would deter me in the slightest because it's all worth it. Paris is an incredible city.
Despite it being an incredible city, for the first two and a half days I was there, I can't say that I liked it. It was amazing and beautiful and powerful, but I didn't like it. I was overwhelmed, uncomfortable, I had overestimated how far I could get on the two or three sentences I know in French and everything was farther away than it looked on my map (I know, Stephanie, you warned me about that last one).
*Sidebar - Parisians are friendly and helpful.
I had gotten to Paris on a Wednesday evening with my hotel booked through the following Monday. I left Monday and Tuesday unplanned in case I wanted to make a side trip somewhere else - Belgium or Germany, most likely. At some point on Friday I was sitting in a subway car, not in a particularly good mood, thinking about better places I could have gone on my vacation. I don't know if it was my competitive nature, or pride or what, but something hit me and I knew I had to do. I had beat this city. I wasn't leaving Paris until I liked it, dag-nab-it.
To make the commitment firm, I extended my hotel reservation through to the end of my trip.
On Saturday evening I had met up with my French friend Arielle, who had been in my ward here in Seattle. We were wandering around somewhat lost after dinner, looking for a secret spot that, we later found out, didn't actually exist, when somehow, magically, I wasn't lost anymore. For the first time, I knew exactly where I was in relation to everything else (insert your jokes about my famous sense of direction here). To my right is the Hotel de Ville; past that is Notre Dame; past that is the Latin Quarter. The Pompidou is off to my left, the Louvre several blocks behind me, and Le Marais in front of me. I'm sure Arielle thought I was weird, but in that moment, I was very excited to tell her where we were.
"Arielle, wait, stop! I know where we are! Notre Dame is right over there!"
"We're not looking for Notre Dame."
"Yeah, I know... but, if we were... it's right there."
Which is not to say that I didn't continue to re-enact the Pink Panther doorway gag for the rest of my trip. I may know where I am, but left and right still give me troubles, apparently.
In any case, that's when I relaxed. That's when I stopped trying to fit everything in and just sat back and enjoyed the atmosphere. I read books in various parks, ate crepes, watched old men play boules, listened to street musicians, ate croissants, watched protesters parade around carrying a 10 foot tall, zobmie Lady Liberty puppet, ate doppelkeks... just the usual European activities.
And, I liked it.
The three most important French words you need to know are Pain au Chocolat.
I have to admit that my aversion to standing in line did cause me to miss a few things (Angelina's hot chocolate for one), which just means I'll have to go back. For those of you who share my distaste for lines, here are a few tips:
1. Lines don't like the rain or mornings.
2. Lines like weekends.
3. The Louvre line moves fast.
4. The Eiffel Tower line gets shorter after the mid-day crowds are gone, but before the sunset crowds show up.
