Paris in the spring time

The purpose of my weekend trip to Paris was to shop and I can honestly say mission accomplished! Getting to and from was a bit of a different story. I grew up in the mid-west – the heartland of America – and therefore a child of public school not public transportation. One of my guide books had said there was a 4 hour train to Paris – to me this meant an easy travel day with no security and no limit to your carry on luggage – perfect! Yeah, not so much.

The ride started out just fine. In fact, the train ride itself wasn’t that bad. It was however a bit boring since there was no in-route entertainment (guess you are suppose to entertain yourself). But alas, the time pasted and finally I arrived in Paris!

Now I was able to master the subway system in Tokyo but unlike the rest of that city, the subway is laid out well and pretty easy to follow. So naturally I thought I would be able to handle the Paris subway. And since I wanted to make some major purchases over the next few days this meant making a few sacrifices (i.e. the luxury of a cab from the train station to my hotel). Given that I had nothing else to do on the 4 hour train ride, I had carefully plotted the location of my hotel, the subway line, and how to reach the aforementioned from Paris Nord (aka the main train station). On paper it seemed easy enough, 1 transfer and I was there. However this ONE transfer managed to be the longest ever connection – 700 meters to be exact. That’s 7 football fields for those of you not familiar with the metric system and that’s pretty far when you are carrying your bags, wearing heels, and sweating like an American without air conditioning. Flashbacks of Tokyo filled my head and I began to regret my decision to come to Paris. As I staggered the last 10 meters to the train, I noticed a man staring at me; not thinking much of it – I boarded the next train and continued on my journey. Aboard the train, I was entertained by a local rap group and children running back and forth throughout the car; annoying as it was it did remind me I was definitely not in Tokyo. When the train arrived at my stop, I exited the entertainment car and continued to trek to the hotel. Admittedly, I was a bit disoriented and confused as to which exit to take. The man that had been starring at me before “just happened” to exit as well and he was oh so eager to help me. “Can I help you miss?” “Are you married miss?” “Tell me your name miss.” “Maybe you and I can (insert hand gesture that I don’t know what it meant but I’m sure it was not nice)” At first I tried to politely dismiss his help but his interrogation continued and when he took my map from my hands I lost it. I looked him straight in the eye and said, “I am perfectly FINE and I DO NOT need your help, now good-bye.” Whew… now where in the hell am I!

After a good night’s rest and a solid breakfast (where I reviewed my itinerary for the day) I headed out to SHOP! I started at Le Bon Marche. Heaven has a place here in Europe as well as a name – Le Bon Marche a fantastic department store in Montemarte that managed to hold my attention for 2 hours and capture the first three purchases of the day. After Le Bon Marche I took to the streets. I had a Marilyn moment while crossing the street – apparently those grates on the street really do have air blowing up! Thank goodness I opted for non-thongs! One hour later I was starring at a subway map in disbelief. I had successfully managed to completely turn myself around. Sucking up defeat and not being able to hail a cab, I walked to the subway. Upon exiting I saw the Seine River and Eiffel Tower – this was the Paris I remember.

In fact I was so entranced by the view I again went the wrong direction! Thankfully the Parisians were beginning to warm up – a local artist helped me sort out my directions. The second planned destination was so close I could feel it – Christian Loubitian here I come. I am not really sure what I was expecting of this red soled boutique but was quiet surprised to find the store was rather understated but relieved to see it came with signature red carpet. The disappointment however continued when each style I pointed to the salesman said – no not in your size. When I finally received a “yes” it was really a no due to too much toe cleavage. I marched onto Rue Saint Honore. My next stop proved to be quite an enjoyable experience, Gucci – gotta love it! Having gotten a preview of what the new flats looked like at LBM, I knew I wanted them. Strategically carrying my Gucci purse I gained instant creditability with the sales staff, François in particular. The flats were an instant hit, so much so that Francois insisted on pulling out the matching purses (just received on Friday). Despite my longing to spend more time in the shop, I knew I need to continue to stay on schedule. Roger was calling…and I was ready to answer! The Roger Viver boutique is exquisite – even had the opportunity to check out the VIP room. The next stop was the Champs Elysee. I spent the next few hours literally strolling the magnificent street in awe. Stopping for a crepe here and an ice cream there I was so content. Realizing that it might be a good idea for me to actually indulge in some real food, I meandered off the Champs Elysee to a corner brasserie. As I took my seat at the outside table, I turned to my left and stared in disbelief. I was looking at the exact hotel where I had stayed the first time I came to Paris. I just couldn’t believe it – by no means did I intend to find this… funny how things seem to find you.

Sunday was spent wondering more streets and popping in the few shops that were open. I strolled through the Lourve and Tulleries and enjoyed another crepe (ok, 2 more). The time pasted quickly and I found myself rushed to get back to the hotel, grab my things (multiple bags now) and get to the train station. Evidently everything runs on its own time in Paris except the trains which leave promptly at their scheduled departure as I was so nicely told by the train attendant when I arrived 1 minute late. Nearly out of breath, I headed to the ticket counter to re-book myself on the next train. Luckily, the man behind the counter was a friendly Parisian who didn’t charge me for the ticket change and offered some advice on where to spend the next 2 hours waiting for my train.

Once aboard, I was faced with another set of “party seats” and because I’m such a dedicated worker, I was determined to find an outlet on the train. So I made my way to the dining car and befriended the man working behind the counter. I convinced him to let me use one of his outlets for my computer. I spent the next 3 hours at the bar, not uncommon for me, however this time I was typing away rather then knocking a few back.

When I exited Central Station (back in Amsterdam), I joined the taxi line. Even though I had spent my quota in Paris, this was one luxury I wasn’t ready to give up just yet.