Fairies, Churches, Sex, and Gypsies

The last few days, we’ve seen two very different sides of Paris. Yesterday we visited Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower and today we went to Montmartre, Pigalli and Moulin Rouge.

...the rose windows were gorgeous.

"That's the right price."

On the first Sunday of each month, visitors can go up the towers at Notre Dame for free. Scott said, “That’s the right price. Let’s go to Notre Dame.” It was as to be expected…huge, old, impressive, crowded.  Scott seemed more touched by it than I felt. He made a point to acknowledge the power of viewing the alter, which to me seemed so far away and dark that I really didn’t get any special emotion from being there. I thought the rose windows were gorgeous. Besides that, I think I enjoyed traveling TO the cathedral more than the actual destination, navigating the subway trains, walking through the streets and interacting with the people.

When we find ourselves unsure where to go next, Scott always turns to me and says, “Will you ask how to get to…” Notre Dame in this case. “Scott, you can ask just as well as I can. Just say Notre Dame and watch which way the person points,” I told him. He replied, “Yes but when they answer back, you will understand the directions better; come on just ask.” I sighed because I really can’t see that we need more than a nonverbal point in the right direction. It’s Notre Dame for goodness sake; I don’t think we’ll miss it if we are anywhere close to it. But because I have vowed to let Scott be the boss on this trip (two chiefs won’t work for this vision quest), I approached a single lady who looked a little younger than I am. Scott, Elle and Cody stood behind me and I said, “Pardonnez moi, mademoiselle, aidez-moi, s’il vous plait?” She looked a bit panicked and replied, “I don’t know. I don’t speak French.” I followed my first instinct and walked on to find someone who could help me but this time, Scott and the kids didn’t follow. After finding another woman who pointed me in the right direction, I returned to Scott, who was laughing out loud and walking in the right direction without my reporting back to him. “What’s so funny?” I asked. “Molly, when she said she didn’t speak French you just walked away…she was speaking ENGLISH!!!  You could’ve asked her for directions in English…” Oops. The same thing happened while in line at the Eiffel tower. I asked the clerk, “Tickets pour deux adultes et un etudiante, s’il vous plait.” When he asked what age the student and the child were, I replied, “Quatorze ans et trois ans,” but was annoyed when Scott interrupted, talking over me, “14 and 3.” After getting the tickets, I asked Scott, “If you want me to ask questions, please don’t talk over me.” Again he laughed incredulously, “Molly, he asked you in English!” “He did?” And here I thought I was just really catching on to the language!

Surprise, it was to walk through the church!

Although people say French people are rude to Americans, I really think that they have been extremely obliging, considering how irksome it must be to help  ignorant tourists all the time. Today we experienced some of the rudeness though. While standing in the mall area outside of Notre Dame, Scott approached a police officer to ask if he spoke English. The cop brusquely spit back, “En France, nous parlons francais!” Scott gave him the evil eye and I pulled him away, “Come on, let’s get in the line.” He pulled back, “But I don’t know what the line is for and that guy could have helped us. He’s just being a dick.” That encounter bothered Scott all day. True, the guy was a jerk about it, but I really don’t want to force a man carrying a long, specialized, rifle-looking gun to do something he doesn’t want to. Plus, isn’t it obvious what a long line heading into Notre Dame would be for? Surprise, it was to walk through the church.

After touring inside, we returned to the mall for pictures with the gigantic Christmas tree in front of the cathedral. Scott posed with the kids and to my right a group of college-age French guys and girls gathered, loudly mocking American tourists. One of the guys stood before the rest pointing at the cathedral façade, and over-enunciated loudly, “It is SOOOO BEAUTY-FUL DARLING!!” then his audience laughed hysterically. It’s funny because it’s true.

"It is SOOOOO BEAUTY-FUL!"

When we ascended the steps from the Metro, the Eiffel tower came into view and we all pointed in awe, “It is SOOOOO BEAUTY-FUL!” It really was, though. At night, it’s totally illuminated in this bright yellow light. As we approached it, we walked along the Seine River on a boardwalk ending in a merry-go-round. Keep in mind, it’s not warm here. It’s winter and it’s cold. But it doesn’t seem to stop the fun. The merry-go-round turned to its carousel music and Elle’s bribe to be a good girl was in place, “Elle, if you are a good girl at the Eiffel Tower, you can ride the merry-go-round.”

"If you are a good girl at the Eiffel Tower, you can ride the merry-go-round."

We all had our eyes up as we went beneath the tower.

We crossed the street toward the tower. Again, I was struck by the hugeness of the thing. There were a lot of people but I can imagine compared to tourist season, it wasn’t crowded. We all had our eyes up as we went beneath the tower. Besides the light of the tower itself, there were all these blue sparks of light shooting up and down in the air around us. They looked like little blue Disney fairies flitting all around under the tower. Up close we found that they were tiny lighted helicopters shot in the air with rubber bands. Then, while standing in the ticket line to travel to the top, the tower suddenly started to sparkle. A million strobe lights situated on every inch of the tower flashed randomly for about five minutes like a swarm of excited fireflies. A collective sigh of “OOOOOHS and AHHHHHHHHS” from the crowd below the tower multiplied the magic of the whole thing.

A million strobe lights...like a swarm of excited fireflies.

We followed the enchanting elegance of the Eiffel Tower with an afternoon trip to Pigalli today. I hadn’t heard of it before but Scott pronounced it “Pig Alley” and said it was where the famous Moulin Rouge is located.  

 

As we strolled down the street, the street did not disappoint. Cody counted at least 50 sex shops and, unlike American erotic shops, the windows were not necessarily covered. My son Dakota, 14, was shocked, pointing out all the free peeps of naughty paraphernalia he caught through open doors and windows.

Cody agreed he would rather not actually go inside Moulin Rouge for lunch, “Sure I would probably like going in, but not WITH YOU!” So we ate at Bistro Chat Noir simply because we recognized that red Art-Deco Nouveau poster with the tall black cat on the sign. We all ordered safely and ate our lunches happily.



"Sure I would probably like going in, but not WITH YOU!"



We had learned to order food cautiously the night before at a small restaurant near our hotel. Dakota asked me which item on the menu may be a hamburger.  Knowing only that beef would be “beouf’ on the menu I pointed to the first entrée listed which said, “Tartare du Beouf.” Oops! Cody was served a cold, raw burger patty with a raw egg cracked atop it. Needless to say, he sent it back despite the garcon’s irritated eye-roll. Cody was good-natured about the whole thing, “I should’ve just mushed it all together, mixed in some worchestershire and ketchup and ask him to throw it in the oven. Then I could’ve had meatloaf.” Cody also had a big night with his first glass of wine. He downed the first glass like water but learned to sip on his 2^nd glass. I wanted to take a picture to post but he refused, just in case he becomes a professional athlete or runs for office someday.



...at least a million steps...



In Montemartre we climbed...





I've now been to church more in the last two days than in the last three months.



I would say the lesson for today was not to attempt a photo of Gypsies at work. In Montmarte,the highest point in Paris, we climbed at least a million steps to tour La Basilique du Sacre Coeur (I’ve now been to church more in the last two days than in the last three months).

Afterward, we found this narrow alley-looking street packed with pedestrians and Gypsies ripping off tourists…and my husband in this case. I guess his PhD didn’t cover recognizing obvious con jobs because I’m not exaggerating when I say he handed a man 5o Euros to guess which of three black discs was white underneath.  About every 10 feet along this busy block was situated a man standing behind a stack of boxes. On top of the stack was a dirty cloth on which the guy would shuffle three black discs around quickly then dare someone in the crowd to guess which disc was white underneath. Someone would bet 50 Euros, guess, win or lose, then he’d flash the bottoms of the discs to the crowd and begin again. Dakota wanted to bet because he could guess correctly every time but Scott and I explained that it was a cheat, “Those women betting are plants! They know the trick and are working with the guy to make you think it’s possible to win. You can’t win. There’s a trick to it and you will never pick the white disc!” He trusted us and walked on…til the next gaming stand when –I’LL BE DAMNED if Scott didn’t walk up and hand the guy a 50 to guess. I pushed Elle away in her stroller and yelled back, “Nooooo Scott. They are plants. It’s a cheat!” But the ladies around the table urged him on, “Yes Yes Yes.” Mon Dieu, it was like a bad morality play!! Guess what? He lost his $50.



...Gypsies ripping off tourists...and my husband in this case.



"GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER CAMERA!"



That wasn’t the end of the excitement though! And this is where the lesson of the day comes in. Knowing, I would write about the event, I wanted a picture. I quickly snapped one of the smarmy cheat before his short little henchman covered my lens with his grubby hand. I already had the picture so I happily put the cover back on and turned to leave, but my protective men didn’t like that. Both Scott and Cody charged toward the man yelling, “THIS IS A PUBLIC PLACE. SHE CAN TAKE ANY PICTURE SHE WANTS! GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER CAMERA!” I saw our lives flash before my eyes and pleaded with them, “No No No. It’s okay. It’s okay. Let’s go.” Then I turned to the man, who I swore would rip my camera off my neck if I didn’t get out of there, and held up my hand, “D’ACCORD!.” I hurried off, urging Scott and Cody to follow me. Holy cow. We went from magical sparkles to gypsy beat downs in less than 24 hours. I think tomorrow we will stick to Le Louvre.

In Montmontre, the highest point in Paris...