Our alarm clock rang at 4:45am, and it was time to say "goodbye" to London and "bonjour" to Paris! We hopped onto the 6:18am Eurostar train that connects London to Paris by traveling under the English Channel. It was pretty cool to be zooming along, and then suddenly decline into the ground. The underwater/underground duration was surprisingly brief, so we didn't have to have our oxygen masks on for too long.
I jest. We didn't have oxygen masks. Just snorkeling gear.
After we dropped our luggage off at our hotel (Hotel Republique), we embarked on our Paris Day 1 Day of Paris. This proved overwhelming for Whitney because of the many many patisseries (bakeries) that we passed. Something that's important to know about Whitney: she lovvvvves bread. And pasta (watch out, Italy!) I recently overheard her say to herself, "Yep, bread and pasta. They're the best carbs." And when we'd watch travel videos in the preceding months to this trip, I think she got as equally excited about seeing bakeries as cultural sites. But hey, food is an important part of the culture, right??
We stepped into a store that had a particularly tempting display of breads and pastries, and drooled over the items for a while. They also gave us samples, which was super. In the end, we decided to wait until later to buy bread because it'll likely turn into a bread binge-fest.
But something did come out of this stop. Someone decided to give me a head cold, the symptoms of which I felt coming on the day before this trip. I packed some pseudoephedrine just in case, and thank heavens I did so because I've had my own mucous party going on for the last few days. I did the math and realized that I might run out before my body whips the virus into shape, so when we saw a small pharmacy in the store containing the bakery, we approached the pharmacist guy and asked, "Parlez-vous Anglais?" He responded that he did, and I followed up by asking about cold medicine and acting out a mucous factory in my nose with miming skills that I developed in China and honed in Ireland.
Amused and slightly disgusted, he said that his pharmacy wasn't the right kind (?? I think maybe it was a beauty supply pharmacy?? I don't know these things.), but that there was a suitable one across the street.
Before entering the next pharmacy, I googled "french cold medicine" and found forums where other Americans had posted advice on potential meds. I also wanted the non-drowsy kind, but not knowing if they had that term, I google-translated how to say "I don't want to sleep" ("je ne veux pas dormir"). Whitney suggested I also look up the term for "non-drowsy", but I thought it was unnecessary. However, it's good to take your spouse's advice, so I did translate the term ("sans somnolence").
The pharmacist spoke very limited English, so I just said, "Nose. Mucous." and said "Maxilaise? Humex?" (by the way, if you don't speak French, you feel totally ridiculous trying to speak French properly, i.e. saying "oo-mex" instead of "hugh-mex"). I think she got the idea, but for good measure, I made a flowing motion with my fingers while my wrist was near my nostrils. Too much? I think not.
She pulled a box of something to the counter and I added, "Je ne veux pas dormir." She cocked her head to the side and gave me a puzzled look, so I quickly added, "sans somnolence?" "Ah! Sans somnolence!" she replied, and got a different box. In retrospect, I imagine that it would probably be odd to hear someone say in seriousness, "I don't want to sleep." Try saying it to a stranger sometime.
Also in retrospect, I'm very thankful that Whitney suggested I translate "non-drowsy" so that I didn't look like someone in serious fear of his nightmares.
The box she presented had pseudoephedrine written on it! Success! With our doctorates combined, Whitney and I pieced together the dosage. So far I haven't overdosed, so we must've been good enough.
Next, we started a self-guided audio tour of historic Paris with Notre Dame! I took a picture of this mostly to show the huuuuge line that we waited patiently in (I'm spoiled after our Tower of London experience. And Harry Potter). Luckily it was overcast and cool, and really the line moved fairly quickly; we entered about 15 min later.
The tour also took us to Sainte-Chappelle, which was absolutely stunning. The architects designed the building with enough flying buttresses so that the walls were basically just stained glass windows and window jams (supported by the buttresses). This picture doesn't do it justice, but you owe it to yourself to see a better one.
After we finished at Sainte-Chappelle, we strolled along the Seine. The weather had cleared up and the Parisians lined the river. My understanding is that in the summer, they fill the esplanade with sand and chairs to create a Parisian beach!
We stopped at Musée d'Orsay for a lesson in Impressionism. Conveniently, it was free museum night, so we got to explore the masters' works (Monet, Manet, Van Gogh, Gauguin) gratuitement.
Then we walked to the Trocadéro area where we would start our Eiffel Tower experience, but it was after dinner time and we were hungry after all that walking and art.
It was time. for. BAGUETTES.
We searched for patisseries, but every one that we saw had closed (it was 8pm). So we settled for some from a convenience store, and walked into a Carrefour to find.... phantom baguettes!
Noooo! These late birds definitely missed the worm. We settled for much less satisfying alternatives (really, could anything rescue our dashed hopes for warm, chewy baguettes?) and headed to Trocadéro.
We arrived to our view of the Eiffel Tower just as the sun was setting in a partly cloudy sky. It was totally gorgeous and we only had to share the experience with about 20 persistent hawkers, whom we informed that we weren't interested in selfie sticks or miniature Eiffel Towers.
Okay, maybe the Eiffel Tour is more satisfying than a baguette.
Elevator tickets to the top were so hopelessly sold out months ago that we queued for the stairs line. It actually turned out to be a really cool experience to walk up among the gridwork of the Tower. It was 704 quad-burning steps to the middle level, which provided a très romantique view of Paris at night.
In most cases we would've walked the 3 miles back to the hotel, but we were très tired after being up so early, so we splurged on the subway.
Back at the hotel, we finally checked in and got into the teentsy elevator to retire for the night.
Speaking of retiring, sweet slumber is calling my name! Bonne nuit!
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