Vite, vite!

It was my second time in Paris and I was having a dilemma. My last visit to Paris was only two days in length and had given me the impression that Paris was a dirty, cold, hard city full of people who did not want you to speak their language and who could care less for your comfort or well being. This time around, I wanted to get the impression that Paris was a romantic, beautiful city, full of wonders undiscovered.

We arrived at 8:30am and were met promptly by Elise, who lives in Plaisirs. I bought postcards at Relay, where the clerks handed me free Sweet Gum for my purchase and smiled at my strange, Canadian accent. We lined up for Metro tickets and a ticket into Paris. If you are coming from Charles de Gaulle, you require a ticket to get into Paris (8,40 euros) and Metro tickets to get around Paris (1,14 euros each). Naively, we bought a two day pass and tickets to get into the city.

The train ride in was pleasant, showing you ivy-covered brick walls and small neighborhoods as you whizzed past them all into the heart of downtown. Elise took us to our hostel on Rue Caulaincourt where we finally met Ross. We dropped our bags off and headed to L'Arc de Triomphe for our first whole day in Paris. The Arc cost 9 euros for admission into the "museum" and we climbed 276 steps to get to the top. It was our first exposure to a series of neverending windy stairs, but not our last. We spent some time taking pictures at the top of the arc, sans Ross and Elise who had already seen the Paris sights over the weekend.

We then took a leisurely stroll down the Champs-Elysées, stopping at an Orange store to buy a phone for Matt so that he could call his parents. Meanwhile, I stole into a candy store across the street, marvelling at all of the elaborate sweets! Chocolate cupcakes with rose petal icing, macarons of every color and flavor imaginable, strawberry almond tarts - it was incredible! They even made perfume that smelled of their best-selling sweets in those old-fashioned bottles with a squeeze bulb!

At the end of our Champs-Elysées tour, we went inside the Petit Palais for free. Here, we discovered the Europeans' penchant for handing out actual tickets for free admission. We rested in the courtyard, taking pictures.

I don't remember exactly when I started having troubles with my Metro ticket, but my troubles were many. First, I simply could not get through the gates because my ticket was "invalid". I had my ticket recharged three times, I was let in through the "baby gate" (the gate where moms with strollers are let in) once, and I got stuck between the turnstile and an electric door once. Even the cool protective case couldn't save me from demagnetization. I am just one giant, human magnet.

Next stop was Saint-Michel and Notre Dame. I had been in both churches before and didn't feel the need to stand in the large, crazy line for another look. Matt and Sable went inside Saint Michel while Elise, Ross, and I walked around looking for a drink and/or sandwiches. Perhaps the most frustrating part of travelling with other people is the indecision. Looking for a place to eat is like getting gutted alive. This particular search for sandwiches was not as painful as searches in other cities, but it is something you do not need to worry about when travelling alone. We finally just settled on buying a drink and sitting by a fountain, resting our legs and feet. When Matt and Sable finally met us, we were ready to go and get something to eat. We all got sandwiches at a shop near the Notre Dame. I could not finish and saved my sandwich for later, along with all of the meals Air Canada had bestowed on me.

The last time I saw Notre Dame, it was virtually empty. It was undergoing restoration and cleaning, so I was thoroughly impressed to see the church up and running for its peak tourist season. It was bustling with people, including Catholics on bended knee, children lighting candles, tourists resting in the dark, cool inside. Everything - the ceilings, the flooring, the supports - was elaborate. It filled me with wonder and warmth.

From Notre Dame, we walked to an ice cream shop that Ross and Elise raved about. Canelle - that is the flavor that is so amazing and which I did not try. Instead, I tried the creamy, nutty kind of ice cream, watching as blond-haired, blue-eyed German schoolchildren bickered, laughed, and took pictures of Matt from behind. I was tired and sick from the motion-sickness patch (ironically), so we headed back to the hostel, where we checked in and I almost collapsed from exhaustion. The man at the reception desk was a dark-skinned, grinning man with a perfect French accent and an even more perfect English accent, making me think that perhaps I wasn't hearing my French accents correctly anymore. He was jovial and welcoming, and, though not particularly quick, he made the wait somewhat pleasant.

After a nap, I was awakened by a call to the room asking whether or not I had paid for the room and how I had done so. In fact, I had paid with a 100 euro bill! Reluctantly, I trudged downstairs to clear up the matter which merely entailed a screw-up at reception. Apparently, he had entered my payment as credit card on the receipt and could not find an authorization slip for the transaction, which never transpired since I paid him in cash. I was up, so we went to a cafe called Le Café qui parle for some dinner, where I had poached eggs on asparagus in a creamy mustard dressing with a crème brulée de cassis for dessert.

Then, sweet, sweet sleep.