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December 30th and 31st were our go-out-and-conquer-Paris-or-die days and as such were jam-packed full of sights. As to not disprove any commonly held European stereotypes of Americans running across Europe like beheaded chickens, Amy and I were out the door first thing Thursday morning and never looked back. Our first course of action was to swing on down to Versailles, a quaint little shack of a palace, which as you may know was the royal residence of all sorts of unsavory, UNELECTED rulers and dictators throughout history. The palace itself has a gazillion rooms all chalked full of gaudy and flamboyant paintings, carvings, and statues dedicated to the glory and opulence of non-democratic social orders. Although I really do love European palaces, castles and forts, and while I still have a strong affection for European history and culture, these days when I see yet another palace I just want to scream, "STOP THE INSANITY!!!" :-) I really did enjoy going to Versailles actually and do understand its historical significance and the sheer magnitude of its presence, but I just think I'm all "palaced out". But then again, as stated earlier, at this stage in my life the most important thing about travelling is the people I'm travelling with, and in this regard my tour of Versailles was a lot of fun since I was with my sister and we had a good time just strolling around and looking at everything as if we had just fallen off the Kansas City bound pumpkin truck.
First stop: The Eiffel Tower As everyone knows, the Eiffel Tower is the main attraction in Paris. And why not? Its huge stature is imposing and powerful. Its steel skeleton magnificently zig-zags its way into the heavens and I found the spiny monster to be just as beautiful and exciting today as it was the first time I laid eyes on it back in 1994. (1994 wasn't that long ago, I suppose. . .) Unfortunately due to the New Year's Eve pyrotechnics strapped to the tower and the fact that the Storm du Century snapped all the surrounding trees in half, the entire tower area was fenced off and closed to tourists, which meant Amy and I were unable to stand in line for 3 hours to take the elevator up to the top of the observation deck. A shame really as I think it would have been a great experience for Amy. (I remember back in 1994 when I went to the Eiffel Tower with my brother Aaron and my step-brother Bret. Aaron totally freaked out when we got to the top of the tower because he suddenly remembered he was afraid of heights which I found rather humorous!) So instead of ascending the tower, we walked across the Pont d'Iéna bridge spanning the Seine River just in front and were able to get some really nice pictures from afar. Once we finished our tour of the tower, we headed underground and took Le Metro over to Paris' modern business district to view the modern rendition of L'Arc de Triomphe: La Défense.
(As I was writing this paragraph, it occurred to me that AmyLynn and I seem to share this love-affair of scaling to the top of skyscrapers and high-rises. ("Scaling"??? More like taking the air-conditioned elevator. . .) So far Amy and I have spent quality time atop La Défense, the Umeda Skygardens Tower in Osaka (similar in concept to La Défense) in March 1999, and the 100 story tall John Hancock Buidling in Chicago back in June 1998. Perhaps there is a Freudian explanation for all of this???)
Actually, the Moulin Rouge district was MUCH tamer than Amsterdam, since there were no prostitutes chillin' out in the windows everywhere, but there were sex shops and erotic dance clubs galore and on more than one occasion we were beckoned to enter the shadowy depths of the Parisian underworld. Of course, all these pimps and shop owners failed to realized that I was travelling around WITH MY SISTER and somehow I just consider the whole prospect of visiting such an establishment with my sister to be WRONG!!! Besides, a sex shop in France is the same as one in America is the same as one in Japan and they are all quite boring (not that I would personally know, but that's what I've heard&ldots; uh&ldots; yeah&ldots;). So instead of shelling out clams on something neither my sister nor I would be interested in, we both decided to sit down at yet another restaurant and gorge instead. (I'm sensing a pattern here.) Plenty of food and white wine later, we slithered back to our hotel room and got a good night's sleep in preparation for THE LAST SECOND OF THE LAST MINUTE OF THE LAST HOUR OF THE LAST DAY OF THE LAST WEEK OF THE LAST MONTH OF THE LAST YEAR OF THE LAST CENTURY OF THE SECOND MILLENNIUM!!! (And if anyone reminds me that the 21st Century doesn't officially start until January 1, 2001, I'm going to scream!!!) ;-} 31 December 1999 The great day had finally come. Friday, 31 December 1999. The day the western-Christian world had been fearing and anticipating for a thousand years. The last day before the possible return of Jesus Christ to Earth. The last full day before the possible self-destruction of 50 years of computer automation and electronic dependence. The last day of a century characterized by horrific paroxysms of war and genocide, but also of an unending explosion of prosperity and scientific advancement the world around. I had dreamt of this day for as long as I knew how to count. When I was younger I used to watch science fiction movies and television shows and in doing so I always fell into a fantasy world imagining what life would actually be like on 31 December 1999. What would the world be like? What would * I * be like? How old would I be? Where would I celebrate the momentous event? It always boggled my mind. When I was 12 years old in 1986 the year 2000 seemed like an eternity away. 14 years was longer than the length of time I had been alive and to think that one day I would be 25 years old celebrating the dawn of the 21st Century was really too much for me to comprehend! As time had gone by and the big year loomed ever closer, the Year 2000 seemed to loose a little bit of its mystery. I had begun making definitive plans regarding what I wanted to do and where I wanted to be in life spanning the years 1998, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002 and beyond. When I began to think of the Year 2000 with that kind of perspective, it simply became an irrelevant human construct, like screaming across national borders at 100 mph on a bullet train. You see the Welcome to the Future sign far off in the distance, yet before you know it, it's right in your face and if you don't take a second to hit the breaks and take a picture, it'll forever exist in the past without you. So on Friday, December 31st, 1999 I slammed on the breaks, stood back, looked at the big picture and indulged myself in every remaining moment of the millennium. Every free chance I got I wrote the number "1999", I did, since after midnight the number "1" would be retired in favor of "2". I thought about the 20th century, that it would all be over shortly and that soon enough we would be closer to the year 2100 than the year 1900. On that last day, I took a few minutes to jot down some 'final words'. They are nothing momentous or totally thought provoking, but I wanted to memorialize a thought or two about the occasion, and this is what I wrote:
And during those last few hours, AmyLynn and I had a full schedule - race across town to L'Arc de Triomphe (The Arc of Triumph), Sacré Cœur (Sacred Heart) Basilica, Le Centre Pompidou, return to the hotel, rest up, then head out to the Eiffel Tower and party like it's 1999!!! The Arc of Triumph was closest to our hotel so we started our sightseeing journey there. We actually arrived at the arc a little bit behind schedule since Amy and I had gotten postponed briefly at the Exelmans metro stop when we stopped to ask the Metro Girl if the subway situation was going to be open later in the evening and how Amy and I should expect to get back to the hotel after midnight, specifically, would there be service at all? Our metro assistant was SUPER NICE and super informative - in stark contrast to the negative image generally given to the French by Americans. I have come to find out that the French are a very nice group of people - especially when you speak their language to them in their country. (Which is, of course, no different than virtually any American who would prefer to be spoken to in English and not Spanish . . .) So I spoke French to the Frenchies and I received nothing but hospitality and friendliness in return. In any case, we found out that after 5 p.m. all subways in the city would be free of charge and that only certain main metro hubs would be open after midnight until 2 a.m. I found that to be particularly nice of the city of Paris to offer free travel on New Year's Eve 2000! So we zipped under Paris to L'Arc de Triomphe and walked around the tower which sits in the middle of a giant circular 10 lane traffic star where about 8 major thoroughfares in Paris converge and drivers are thrust into a giant loop-de-loop where automotive anarchy reigns supreme! To get to the Arc itself you go under L'Étoile (the star) in an underground walkway and ascend in the middle island safe from the madness of the cars circling around you. (Back in 1994, my brother, step-brother and I did not know about this convenient, yet hidden underground walkway and simply chose to play chicken and run across the star and were nearly mowed down several times by cars racing by us at frighteningly high speeds while blaring their horns at us all the way!) |
(Personal
sidenote: from 1994 to 1997/1998 I was on my
I'm-going-to-be-a-connoisseur of-fine-European-culture trip, and
while I still believe that people shouldn't run around the world
acting like pigs sticking their fingers up their nose and wearing t-shirts
that say, "Who Farted?", recently I have come to the
conclusion that I am not and will not ever be European, and as such,
I have begun returning after a half-decade absence to my
"cultural roots", whatever those may be. This is not to say
that I suddenly love all aspects of American culture and feel that
American culture is superior to the rest of the world (God no!), just
that I am now recognizing and embracing those redeeming aspects of my
American heritage and trying to figure out a way to integrate that
into my overall world view. (Perhaps this is reflected in my less
than glowing portrayal of Versailles?)
So
after Versailles, AmyLynn and I walked around the palace area and
she did a little souvenir shopping and eventually we sat down for a
nice, tasty little lunch at this Mexican restaurant just next to the
train station. We gorged, felt great, waddled back on to the train
and headed back to Paris for the real meat and potatoes reason we
came to Paris in the first place!
From
L'Arc de Triomphe looking down Les Champs-Eslisé boulevard
several kilometers in the distance you can see the modern La
Défense building. The overall architectural contrast between
the old arch and new arch creates a really cool effect since you've
got both styles visually superimposed onto one another. La
Défense is basically two white, granite-clad high-rises joined
at the top by an expansive free-hanging level containing a large
museum and observation deck. Night had fallen over Paris by the time
we reached the top of La Défense and a nasty rainstorm was
ravaging the city, but we were determined to stand atop the high-rise
and get at least one picture of the city. With winds whipping around
from every which way and giant rain drops pelting us in the face, we
stood there bravely and beheld the beauty of a Paris shrouded in
storm and darkness. Mind you, we didn't stand there long, but it was
long enough to oooh and ahhh and enjoy the moment - umbrella flipped
inside out and hair flailing in all directions. After snapping a
couple underexposed pictures with my point and shoot, Amy and I
scurried back into the interior of La Défense like a couple of
roaches fleeing an illuminated room.
Eventually
we descended the tower and walked back to le metro subway and along
the way Amy was fidgeting with her camera when suddenly it went on
the fritz and died right there in her hands. Of course I had to make
some quip about the risks of buying a "cheap camera" and
after a little bit of frustration, we meandered our way under Paris
to the Moulin Rouge district, which is Paris' muted version of
Amsterdam's Red Light District.
(Here
is some random woman I snapped unbeknownst to me while Amy and I
were standing in front of the Eiffel Tower on New Year's Eve. At
least I think it's a woman. In any case, it was kind of freaky when I
was flipping through my pictures and suddenly noticed this strange
person, back toward me but head cocked around and staring straight
into the lens of my camera through the third zero on my glow-in-the-dark
"2000" glasses and I had no clue! You just never know
who's watching you!)