One Weekend in Paris

'Paris is like a whore. From a distance she seems ravishing, you can't wait until you have her in your arms. And five minutes later you feel empty, disgusted with yourself. You feel tricked'- Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer, 1934

When my closest friend, Felix, told me that he was visiting another one of our friends in Paris over the Easter bank holiday weekend, I joked about letting me tag along. 10 minutes later, I was looking at buses over to the continent, a large grin on my face about the prospect of spending a weekend with good friends in a city that I have yet to fully explore. Even the thought of being surrounded by the French could not damper my mood, as my mind filled with thoughts of gazing upon the numerous landmarks that call the French capital their home. Paris embraces its history with open arms, with my curiosity peaked due to reading through Alistair Horne's Seven Ages of Paris. 'Excited' was a vast understatement.

I do love a bit of culture

Then I came to my senses. Paris, la Ville Lumière ('the City of Lights') is a wonderful city, yet in my previous visits (once in December 2012 for a school history trip, and again in the summer of 2013 as part of my interrailing journey) I had seen the uglier side of the city. Parisians treat the streets of the capital with little respect, as they take the very conscious decision to relieve themselves in public with little regard to their fellow citizens or the hordes of tourists that descend upon the city. In one of my Métro (the Paris version of London's underground system) rides across Paris over the Easter weekend, I saw an elderly man spit on the floor of the carriage, without a care in the world. A disgusting act on its own, made worse by the fact that it was bright red. I sincerely hope it was some sort of strawberry flavoured gum, rather than normal gum given a red taint by poor dental hygiene.

Yet before I could enjoy the 'sights' of native Parisians on the Métro, I had to traverse the English Channel. My companion and I used Flixbus, a cheap continental bus service, to reach the European mainland, with the Eurotunnel shuttling us across from Folkestone to Calais. 30 minutes under the Channel is certainly impressive, and both of us were shocked when we leapt out of the water arrived in overcast Calais. Heavy traffic at Folkestone had delayed us by an hour or so (that's bank holiday Friday for you), but spirits were not dampened as, close to 10 o'clock, Paris came into view. Arriving in Bercy coach station, the first sight we saw was a heavily graffitied skate park, and the motte and bailey like AccorHotels Arena. Thankfully, our host, Kris, was there to greet us, and the Métro took us to République, with a well-deserved McDonald's and a nice cold beer wrapping up a long day. Marianne, the personification of liberty and reason, smiled down upon us from her position in the middle of the Place de la République.

Paris, the following morning, was cloudy, and a breeze sent shivers down the spine of this humble traveller. Diving into my chicken and egg baguette, the three of us made a move through the streets of the capital, taking in the sights of Paris. The Triumph of the Republic, another statue dedicated to Marianne, greeted us on our way to the Place de la Bastille and the July Column, a monument dedicated to the July Revolution of 1830 and the end to the reign of the final Bourbon monarch, Charles X. On this site, the French Revolution of 1789-1799 (key theme here- France goes through governments and regimes as if they're going out of fashion) sparked into life with the Storming of the Bastille, now commemorated with Bastille Day on July 14. Not only is it excellent city planning to combine two monuments into one, but it is symbolic in that the Place de la Bastille represents the beginning of the end for the Bourbons, and the July Column serves as the manifestation of the Bourbon's curtain call.

Bravo to the monument and city planners

Revolutionary fervour surged through my veins, intensified by our arrival at the Place des Vosges and the apartment of Victor Hugo, acclaimed author of The Hunchback of Notre-Dame and Les Misérables. Hugo championed republicanism, causing him to be exiled when Napoleon III (nephew of an esteemed Corsican general turned emperor) established the Second French Empire in 1852. 'I Dreamed a Dream' circled through my head as I walked round his apartment, wondering if he would approve of how his book had been turned into a musical, then subsequently a feature length film starring Hugh Jackman and Anne Hathaway. Important questions for another day perhaps. The spirit of Hugo then took us to Notre-Dame, the perfect example of France's Gothic architecture, now surrounded by armed police who held their FAMAS rifles tightly in their hands. Once more, perfect city planning was on show with a statue to Charlemagne, legendary Frankish King and the first Imperator Romanorum (Emperor of the Romans/ Holy Roman Emperor), placed outside the world famous cathedral. Unfortunately for my two companions, I launched into a small lecture on the importance of this particular monarch, intensified by the large grin upon my face.

Only reason I came to Notre-Dame

The cultural trip did not stop there, as we made our way to the Louvre, the largest art museum in the world. Francis I had begun the Louvre's impressive collection by acquiring the Mona Lisa from Leonardo da Vinci, who had entered French court in 1516, where he remained until his death in 1519. Although the Louvre was not entered this day, the Musée de l'Orangerie was only a short distance away, under the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel (dedicated to victories in the earlier years of Napoleon I's reign, such as the Battle of Austerlitz and the Peace of Pressburg, both in 1805) and through the Tuileries Garden. At the end of the impressive garden is the Place de la Concorde, an important site in the story of the French Revolution, as the deposed Louis XVI met his end here in 1793, his head falling to the ground under the force of the guillotine. The Luxor Obelisk now stands in the centre of this historical pilgrimage site, a gift from the ruler of Ottoman Egypt, Muhammad Ali Pasha, in 1833. Once more, Ben the Historian lectured his compatriots.

Oh boy, another pilgrimage site for historians!

In the Musée de l'Orangerie, any art buff can be treated to paintings of both the impressionist and post-impressionist era. Claude Monet's Water Lilies fill two separate rooms, with works from Maurice Utrillo, Pablo Picasso and Paul Cézanne (just to name a few) on display as part of Paul Guillaume's art collection. Although the Louvre can boast to having the Mona Lisa and Eugène Delacroix's Liberty Leading the People (you know, the painting of that half naked chick, representing 'Liberty', with a French flag and a musket standing atop barricades and fallen comrades), Monet's masterpiece is worth the visit all by itself. At times, I fell into a calm trance as I tried to envision myself sitting beside the riverbank, watching the water lilies float upon the surface, taking in the peaceful atmosphere that Monet found in this one small part of this wide and diverse world.

Mum was jealous

Our first full day now came to an end, as we passed the Palais Garnier (the setting of The Phantom of the Opera) and made our way home. Upon our return, we headed to the roof (an easy feat, as we were based in a rooftop apartment with a handy skylight) to take in early evening Paris with a bottle of Leffe Ruby in my hand. This fruity delight certainly sweetened the view from atop the roof, with the Eiffel Tower poking its head out far away in the distance. Dinner at the vegan restaurant Tien Hiang (Kris is a vegan, so we had to make sacrifices) was delightful, as I tried tofu for the first time, washed down by a cold beer whilst watching Paris Saint-Germain defeat Monaco in the Coup de la Ligue final. Our day, as a matter of fact, ended at around 4 in the morning as we took in the Paris nightlife. I had my first taste of a Wall Street bar (the drinks increase/decrease in price every 90 seconds, in a similar vein to the stock market), before bar hopping our way to Lulu White and a minty Grasshopper cocktail. Now that's how to do Paris.

It's a little bit funny... This feeling inside

We rose late on Easter Sunday, yet the hangover was, surprisingly, nowhere to be found. Another chicken and egg baguette gave me the perfect start to the day as we travelled to Versailles. I'm sure you already know that I gave another lecture on how Louis XIV had moved the French court to Versailles and had begun the rapid expansion of Louis XIII's hunting lodge, turning it into a royal palace. The three of us arrived at the shining example of the Ancien Régime (the social system of France before hell broke loose in 1789), spirits weakened by poor service at a local coffee shop, only to find the queue into the château itself seemingly stretching for miles. Turns out a bank holiday weekend in France encourages the masses to head to Versailles. My heart dropped as I would not be able to gaze upon the Hall of Mirrors, the sight where the German Empire was declared after the conclusion of the Franco-Prussian War (1870-1871) and where the Treaty of Versailles (the treaty that formally ended the First World War of 1914-1918) was signed in 1919.

Is it available to rent?

Yet Versailles is far more than that. More than 800 hectares of land accompany the impressive palace, and the great expansion of these gardens was all part of Louis XIV's desire to create an estate fit for the future rulers of France (and himself, of course). The gardens are full of many different points of interest, such as the Orangerie, both the Latona and Apollo Fountains, and the Obelisk Grove. Again, just a few examples of what to expect in the Gardens of Versailles. The fountains and groves were accompanied by classical music as part of the Musical Fountains Show that runs throughout the summer, giving a touch of class to the already classy surroundings. Classiness may have escaped us, as we lost Kris at the Latona Fountain and would only tell him of our location through a series of riddles left as voicemails on Facebook Messenger. Such clues included, as we arrived at the Colonnade Grove, 'when life gives you colons, you make Colonnade'. I am available to hire as a professional writer, by the way.

A face you're just willing to employ

Our 'classy' romp around Versailles could not distract us from the most important task of that Easter Sunday- finding a suitable bar to watch Chelsea vs Spurs. Making our way back to Paris, our routine trip was put in some sort of jeopardy by an unprovoked attack by a local citizen. He had boarded the same Métro carriage as us and stood uncomfortably close to our group, his eyes darting around. Once we exited the train, he proceeded to address us, before squaring up to our host and knocking his water bottle out of his hand. His outburst was roughly translated to 'stop looking at me, get out of my fucking face'. The reason for his odd behaviour is a debatable topic to this day, with our guesses ranging from him being on drugs to the possibility that he took the recent Stoke loss to Arsenal very seriously. Nevertheless, we reached Galway, an Irish pub, and watched on in horror as Tottenham dismantled Chelsea with ease.

Hunger soon demanded attention, with our resident Parisian suggesting we make our way to 'Le Dernier Bar avant la Fin du Monde' ('The Last Bar before the End of the World'), a board game bar, to enjoy some pop culture references. We took great delight in being surrounded by nerdiness, such as the large model of the Millennium Falcon from Star Wars or the themed food and drinks presented on the menu. I am sure Goku and Piccolo would have approved of my cocktail choice, as I opted for the 'Kaȉȉȉ', a blend of Cahaça, lime and brown sugar, with a 'Bruschette Luigi' for dinner. In true board game fashion though, the games we wanted to play had missing pieces, or were too complicated to understand as two party members were not fluent in French. Thus, we made our way home, passing the Centre Pompidou, a landmark hated by the locals due to its out of place look when compared to Les Halles. I for one like it, mainly because it's a giant library.

I mean, it's not awful

To end our second day, we collected our beer supply and headed to the Sacré-Cœur, which can be found on the top of Montmartre. The hill alone is significant in Parisian history, as it was here that Saint Denis was executed by the Romans due to his attempts to convert the populace to Christianity. Indeed, the basillica was built upon the order of the National Assembly in 1873 in order to 'expiate the crimes of the Commune', who had executed Georges Darboys, the Archbishop of Paris in the last days of the Commune in May 1871. His successor, Joseph-Hippolyte Guibert, climbed to the top of Montmartre and said 'it is here that the Sacred Heart must reign' ('Sacré-Cœur' can be translated as 'Sacred Heart'). Nowadays, it is a popular drinking spot due to it being one of the highest points in Paris, with a view to match. In front of this Romano-Byzantine church, people gather to sip their drinks and gaze over their city. On this particular night, the party atmosphere was interrupted by three British men playing '21'. Once again, another day in Paris ended with joy and alcoholism. 

Sacré bleu, it's Sacré-Cœur!

Now we reach our last full day, with an early alarm set to make sure we got the most out of our last day. First stop was Saint Denis, home to both the Stade de France and the Basilica of Saint Denis. The area around the stadium felt empty, reminiscent of a scene from The Walking Dead, but I knew on match days that the place would be packed with excited and boozy fans. Yet it was the basilica that interested me the most, as it is here that the vast majority of France's kings were buried. Remember Saint Denis? Turns out that, after he was executed, he walked for 'six thousand places' with his head before finally dropping dead. Dagobert I was the first king to be buried there in c.639, and is now the final resting place of many of France's monarchs, such as Clovis I (the first king of the Franks and Catholic convert), Philip Augustus (who built a giant wall around Medieval Paris and was key in the city's expansion) and the guillotined Louis XVI (he and his wife, Marie Antoinette, had been buried in the Madeline cemetery, yet the restored Bourbon monarchy of Louis XVIII moved their bodies in 1815). There was a clear gap between myself and the others, as I stopped at every sign to gaze upon the remains of the esteemed royals of France.

Louis XII and Anne de Bretagne had some style

Turns out that Saint Denis wasn't enough for us, our thirst for burial sites unquenched. Thus, the Panthéon was our next destination. In 1744, Louis XV had recovered from a bout of illness and vowed to replace the ruined Abbey of St Genevieve with a structure worthy of Genevieve's memory. Saint Genevieve is the patron saint of Paris, earning her sainthood in 451 by praying for Attila and his Hunnic hordes to spare Paris (they did, as they headed to Orléans instead). Construction finished in 1790, and in the following year the National Constituent Assembly ordered the abbey to become a mausoleum due to the death of their leader Gabriel Riqueti, Count of Mirabeau (who in his spare time was the leader of the French Brotherhood of Assassins- I knew I would mention 'Assassin's Creed: Unity' at some point). Although Mirabeau was later removed due to his dealings with Louis XVI, it began a process of laying to rest the most respected people in French history. Among them lies Victor Hugo, scientist Marie Curie and Napoleonic general Jean Lannes.

Get in, more dead people

Momentarily distracted by the appearance of a Costa sticker on the ground, our group gazed at the Sorbonne, once the home of the University of Paris, and once more reached an acclaimed garden, this time situated outside of the Palais du Luxembourg. Once the home of the regent Marie de' Medici, mother of Louis XIII, the French Senate has met in this building since the formation of the Fifth Republic in 1958. The Luxembourg Gardens have a family friendly atmosphere about them, as the gardens contain tennis courts, basketball courts and food stands to tend to all needs. Spread around the central basin are twenty figures of French queens and other important women, such as Marie de' Medici herself, Empress Matilda (claimant to the English throne during 'The Anarchy' of 1135-1153) and Mary, Queen of Scots (widow of Francis II, and rival to Elizabeth I). The central basin itself is glorious, mainly due to the boats that sail from side to side across the basin. It seemed a fitting sight to see the British ship streak away from the French, German and Spanish ships. 

Not too shabby...

A bus ride took the group to the Pont Alexandre III, dedicated to the Tsar who had helped to secure the Franco-Russian Alliance of 1892. The bridge, another marvel on its own, faces Les Invalides, another key site in terms of the first Revolution, as the masses stormed it in order to obtain guns and artillery, which would then be used on the Bastille on 14 July 1789. Once a hospital for wounded and retired soldiers, it is now the principal location to explore the military history of France, as it contains museums such as the Musée de l'Armée, and underneath the Dôme des Invalides (the dome being built in the Baroque style, much like St Peter's Basilica in Rome) lies that Corsican general turned emperor. Napoléon Bonaparte's tomb is certainly on par with the grandeur the 'Emperor of the French' enjoyed in his life. Twelve 'Victories' statues surround the tomb, each one a symbol to his campaigns, with eight famous victories (such as Austerlitz in 1805) engraved on the marble floor at the base of the tomb. It is a site, outside of historical context, worth seeing in its own right.

Big tomb for a... average sized man

Once I had calmed down from the joy of seeing one of my historical fascinations, the Pont Alexandre III was crossed, where we were hailed by Simón Bolívar, the Venezuelan general who had a key role in establishing numerous South American countries, such as Venezuela, Bolivia and Ecuador. He had been in Paris for Napoleon I's coronation, and his revolutionary spirit earned him a statue in Paris. Beyond the Grand Palais and the Petit Palais (both, like the Pont Alexandre III, were built for the Universal Exposition of 1900) are three more significant statues. One is of Prime Minister Georges Clemenceau, leader of France during the First World War and nicknamed Le Tigre ('The Tiger'), with his ruthlessness towards Germany during the Paris Peace Conference of 1919 on par with his nickname. Along the Champs-Élysées stands Charles de Gaulle, leader of Free France and first President of the Fifth Republic. He is depicted striding with pride, much like he did along the Champs-Élysées on 11 November 1944, around three months after Paris was liberated in August 1944. It is the statue of Winston Churchill, of course, that drew us to this point in Paris. He is also striding as if he were walking beside de Gaulle on that November day in 1944, with the base of the statue inscribed with his immortal words, 'We Shall Never Surrender'. Sorry Charles, I think Winston is the star here.

Hero

Much like the two wartime leaders of the Second World War (1939-1945), we strode down the Champs-Élysées, amazed by the amount of wealth on display. It was the land of the rich, as Lamborghinis roared down the avenue and people walked by in designer clothing. Down this famous avenue is the Arc de Triomphe de l'Étoile, or just the Arc de Triomphe if so inclined, which acts as a memorial to those that fell fighting for France during the days of the First Republic and the First French Empire. Beneath the arch is the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, accompanied with an eternal flame dedicated to the soldiers that died during the World Wars and were never identified. The pillars are engraved with famous French victories from the period, alongside military leaders who served during the Napoleonic Wars. The attic (or top, for definition sake) is also engraved, this time with the more famous battles of the Napoleonic era, such as the Battle of The Pyramids and Austerlitz. Relics and statues also surround the arc, once again depicting key moments of the first Revolution and the reign of Napoleon I, such as famous victories and even more personifications of Marianne . It is the definitive site of commemoration to the France that was born from the ashes of the monarchy, and stands as a triumph to past French glory.

Believe it or not, France has been militarily successful

Finally, we come to our last monument, and it's the big one- literally. The Eiffel Tower is 324 metres high, built as the pièce de résistance of the 1889 World's Fair. In front of Marshall Foch (Supreme Allied Commander during the First Word War) atop his horse and the Palais de Chaillot (once the site that Napoleon I had selected to build a palace for his son), one has an incredible view of the Eiffel Tower. Gazing down the Gardens of the Trocadero, along the Pont d'Iéna and over the Seine, this monumental feat of engineering stands as the definitive symbol of the city. Gustave Eiffel set out to create 'the tallest edifice ever erected by man' and, until the Chrysler Building popped up in New York in 1929, he had succeeded. The structure took three years to complete, and it is a marvel of the Industrial Age. As Paris recovered from the defeat brought on by Prussia, it was a beacon of hope to the French. It was the perfect place to end our sightseeing voyage.

The grand finale

An early start on Tuesday signalled the end to my Parisian adventure. Returning to Bercy, stopping off at a Starbucks to loot a plastic spoon to be used for my yogurt, our host bid us farewell and we began the surprisingly speedy return to the United Kingdom. Along the way, I pondered on how I could best describe this city. At times, it felt ironic; widely acclaimed to be the most romantic city in the world, and capital to the land of Liberté, égalité, fraternité ('Liberty, Equality, Fraternity') it appears that nobody has told its residents that. At La Place (that's right, I'm naming and shaming), service was seemingly refused to us, perhaps due to the fact that we alerted them of our English nationality by speaking in our mother tongue. For a family of Frenchmen to skip ahead of us in the queue and be served was certainly not the best way to defuse the situation. Even when a coffee was obtained due to Kris' skill with the French language, it was overpriced for a beverage that was consumed in around three sips. 

The Métro certainly didn't help capture the romantic feel of Paris. I have already mentioned the spitting man and the assailant, who are just a few of the colourful characters we met on the Paris equivalent to the Tube. Homeless citizens stalked the carriages and pleaded their compatriots for spare change, getting off at every platform and waiting for the next train to come along, thus starting the cycle over again. Performers sang their hearts out, yet were duly ignored by other passengers, who had no desire to listen to an accordion while on their way home from work. But the one occasion that stands out to me was when a man stood up and began waving his arms around frantically, exclaiming loudly in French. I questioned Kris on what he was saying, to which he replied that this man was preaching against Islam. Much like the rest of the passengers, I kept my head down and ignored his ravings.

Paris is a city still recovering from the Islamic State terrorist attacks of November 2015, which left 137 dead and 413 injured. Three bombs were detonated outside of the Stade de France during a match between France and Germany. Four separate shootings occurred at restaurants and cafés across Paris, and the Bataclan theatre, which at the time was hosting an Eagles of Death Metal concert, was the scene of a mass shooting and subsequent hostage situation. In January of the same year, the offices of the Charle Hebdo were the target of one of Al-Qaeda's subordinate groups, with 14 dead and 11 injured. Armed police still patrol the streets, and guard the monuments from any group or individual aiming to cause harm. It is a scary sight, as they glare at any pedestrian that catches their eye, their minds assessing the possible threat level. How long they will remain on guard is anyone's guess.

The horrific scenes will remain in the minds of Parisians for years to come

I could criticise Paris for their hostile attitude to a certain group of tourists, or worry about the government crackdown on the possibility of another large scale attack on the city, but Paris has recovered from worse. It has been sieged by their neighbours to the east twice (1870 and 1940), suffered through numerous revolutions and shifts in government to the point that France is now in the phase of the Fifth Republic, with a history of monarchs, emperors and extremist politicians that have imposed dictatorships. It is a city that always builds itself back up, no matter what it has suffered through. 'Ironic' could be the best way to sum up the capital of the French, but I shall settle on the word 'resilient'. Yes, the history of France has been turbulent (as de Gaulle once said, 'how can you govern a country that has 246 varieties of cheese?'), yet through every dark phase in French history, Paris remains.

On this trip to Paris, numerous monuments were left unexplored. There was no trip around the Louvre, both the Grand and Petit Palais remain a mystery to me, and my disappointment at not seeing Vincent van Gogh's Self-Portrait in the Musée d'Orsay means that I have many excuses to go back. Indeed, if you're in the mood to explore more burial places of pivotal French figures, then the Père Lachaise Cemetery is one potential destination. Not only does the playwright Molière and the famous Middle Age lovers Abélard and Héloïse rest here, but the Doors' lead singer Jim Morrison and the Irish poet Oscar Wilde can also be found here. The free entry for those aged under 26, and teachers as well, means that I have at least three years to experience Paris for free (even though I had to pay to get into the Gardens of Versailles due to the Musical Fountain Show), with Métro tickets priced at €1,90 (or €4,10 for a day pass across the first three zones) that also cover bus travel. With twenty arrondissements (districts) to visit, Paris is a city that can be done through multiple visits, even though you might be subjecting yourself to some very stuck up locals. As Henry Miller, again in Tropic of Cancer, writes:

'I understand then why it is that Paris attracts the tortured, the hallucinated, the great maniacs of love... Here all boundaries fade away and the world reveals itself for the mad slaughter-house that it is... An eternal city, Paris!... The very navel of the world to which, like a blind and faltering idiot, one crawls back on hands and knees.'

I wouldn't describe us as idiots though

Ben G 😁 xo

P.S. Spoiler for next week- the ordeal is over. Time to unleash some hell...

P.P.S. Time is running out until I walk 100km (26/27 May), so any donations would be fantastic. All for Battersea Dogs and Cats Home, so you know it's good! Link is below.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/benjamin-goscomb