Apartments in Paris, I determined early on, are tiny. David lives in a Tokyo-size room that would've been maid's quarters at the turn of the century, and crams a bed, desk, shower, "kitchen" and the rest of his possessions into a space about 3m x 4m. I don't think I could manage in such a tiny space. Slept in a hammock in some spare space in the air there for a few days until I simply decided that I was taking up too much space in an already tiny room, despite his reassurances that it was no bother.
Scooters took over from bikes upon entering Paris - they're everywhere, and like many other places in the world, somehow hopping onto a tiny moped turns one completely insane. Here in Paris, they're all souped-up - nothing's stock, and they careen through the streets with nothing to depend on but inadequate handling and brakes. Bikes weren't terribly common anywhere along the road in France - by this time, I'd come up with my basic theory about the correlation between the type of bike shown on bike route signs, and a country's attitude towards cycling. Here in France, the bike route signs all show a racing bike, while in Belgium, Holland, Germany and Switzerland, they show a city bike, sometimes complete with headlights and fenders. I tend to think that this is indicative of the consideration of cycling in France as something you do for sport, whereas in the other countries, it's seen as a mode of transport.
Headed out my first day in Paris to check out a local hole-in-the-wall bike shop, which turned out to be a real gem - there were a couple old-style newspaper delivery bikes out front, much like the "porteur" bikes I've lusted after for years. When i head back to Paris in April 2002 for the 100th running of Paris-Roubaix, one of these is definitely on my list of things to track down and bring back. Also discovered that benches in this city are alarmingly upright - not good for my slouching American posture! Dropped by a paper ephemera store that specialized in transport memorabilia - mostly tractors and cars, but some bike stuff - picked up a nice promo shot of Nicolas Frantz, the Luxembourgian winner of the 1927 Tour de France, and a couple other bits of bike paper.
Eventually had to bite the bullet and call SF to get Sorrel's phone number, and got another round of hair-pulling as she had left not minutes before I finally called, and with me less than 3 blocks away. Argh! Did manage to get ahold of her the very next day though, and transferred all my stuff over to her (much "bigger" - over twice the size! woo.) apartment, and then tromped off to the Louvre, which was quite overwhelming. Sorrel: "So, anything in particular you want to see while you're here?" Joel: "Uhhhhhhhhhh...... Art?" In the end, decided to basically give up on the Louvre, cause it was just too much - it really requires a dedicated trip to experience - otherwise you're just not giving it the time it deserves, and I had 7 years of catching up to do with an old friend. Priorities...
Paris was given the task of dispelling my final misconception about France: "Paris is expensive". Again, false - if you do it right. I ate better than i ever would've expected, and for cheaper than I would've guessed. Started off my Parisian dining experience with a lovely duck confit, followed by a delicious creme brulee with raspberries that i think ended up costing me around $10. Just try getting that price in SF. Spent the rest of the afternoon rummaging through a street market for bargains - walked away with a nice little postcard from the turn of the 20th century of a baker and his triporteur, and a program from a post-war celebratory velodrome meet, as well as my novelty for the day - a blueberry sausage! Yes, you read right. It was really blue, and really did taste of blueberries. I just couldn't resist...Definitely set the mood for more flea market shopping the next day.
Travelling around Paris with friends who don't have bikes made for a new experience entirely - the Metro. I usually don't really bother with public transportation, not so much because i dont like it - I'm a huge fan of light rail and metro transit - but because I just ride everywhere. The Paris Metro is remarkable - once you have it figured, you're set for travel around Paris. It certainly would be my next choice for travel around the city if I weren't on a bike. The Metro also solidified my conviction that there was one thing i absolutely musthave for my next trip - a minidisc recorder - for the single purpose of capturing all the noises that catch my ear as i travel. The echoes of street musicians with discordant accordians through the subway tubes, the shuffle of feet through street markets, the sound of rain on canals... It will add another dimension to my journals of these trips, beyond the written and photographic documentation - another sensory trigger for memories. Another vote for the minidisc recorder was cast by the appearance of a motley procession through the streets below the apartment - puppets, drummers, costumed figures of all types parading through the alleys. Never did figure out what for, but it didn't seem to matter.
The flea markets the next day were a goldmine. Picked up an old cycling map of the Isle of Wight, and a stack of 120+ issues of Miroir des Sports from the 20s, which, along with 160 issues waiting for me back in Amsterdam, filled in a big hole in my collection - not to mention contained valuable information on courier racing in Paris in the 20s and 30s. All this got packed up with the maps I'd used to get to this point, and sent back to Jetset in SF, where they'd be held for my return. Lunch brought a trip for crepes, which I beleive was inevitable, and well worth it. Dinner, however, was the real highlight, at a smallish restaurant, Restaurant Polidor, in the 6th - escargot, guinea fowl, and a sinfully good raspberry pudding. I've yet to eat meat in Paris that required a knife - everything just falls away from the bone.
Waling home from dinner, stopped by an internet cafe to check email, only to break down crying in the place as I found out one of my best friends got engaged during her trip to Italy. Must've looked quite entertaining, sitting there at the computer, laughing and crying aloud at the news. Stopping in at the cafe around the corner, said hi to all the regulars, and noted again something that I notice in larger European cities that I just don't see in the States - that familiarity with the denizens of your neighborhood - it's just the exception rather than the rule back home.
Starting my next morning off right with a cup of hot chocolate heaven while doing laundry (finally!) - pitcher of steamed milk, pitcher of melted dark chocolate. I'm now convinced that there's really no other way to make hot chocolate. Spent the rest of the day rambling about with David, mailing packages, stopping by bars, checking out train fares from Paris - it'd been recommended that I take the train a short ways out of the city rather than ride out the way I came in - apparently getting out is an order of magnitude more difficult than getting in. I figured I'd see how far 100 francs would get me, and evaluate my options from there. 109 francs got me to Epernay, and that made the decision - $13 later, I had my ride out of Paris.
Had my last dinner of the stay at a Morrocan restaurant down the street, with a group of Sorrel's Parisian friends. Ate couscous until I just couldn't have stuffed myself any fuller, and then it was home to bed, because my train was an early one - 8 am - so I needed my sleep...
Paris is sleepy in the morning. No one is awake unless they work in a cafe or boulangerie. The only real movement is that of water flushing the gutters, on today's guided cleanup tour, directed by rolled towels telling it where to turn. I was sorry to leave Paris, but the advetures must continue, so I hopped on my train and headed off on my way to Zurich.
On to the next stage, Paris > Zurich