It was the perfect end to the most amazing trip of my life...so far. Paris, The City of Light, was just as beautiful as I remembered it to be, even in the rain, which made sporadic appearances during my final 48 hours there. Didn't stop us from enjoying ourselves almost right away, as we dropped our things at our hostel on the Quai de la Seine and headed up to my favorite viewpoint in Paris masterfully by way of the Metro: Montmarte.
We climbed the steps to Sacre Coeur and sauntered down the charming streets atop the hill to the clustered collection of outdoor seating in the main square, settling upon Cadet de Gascogne. Our waitress was quite forgiving of our limited and feeble French, though I had once upon a time spoken it well enough thanks to three years of high school classes. We indulged in delicious wine, bread, and foie gras before the main courses came. Dessert and espresso was a must, naturally. It was impossible not to enjoy our evening together, unwinding above perhaps the most beautiful city in Europe.
After dinner, we took the famous funicular back down to the streets below and found our way to the Metro once again, this time taking it to the Ile de la Cité to see Notre Dame by night, then walked through the rues and alleyways of the touristic yet classic Latin Quarter before crossing back over the Seine to Cité, where we caught the subway back to our hostel.
My final full day in Europe was indeed a full one. Pat, Joanie and I traveled by Metro across town to Charles de Gaulle and walked down Les Champs-Élysées to a nice café (called George V); crêpes and coffee for me, plus French onion soup and pizza for Pat and Joanie.
After our brief bite, we snapped some more photos of l'Arc de Triomphe then walked back down Les Champs toward Notre Dame, by way of several more beautiful and interesting buildings and landmarks, including Le Grand et Petit Palais, Place de la Concorde, Jardin des Tuileries, Le Louvre, and finally back by daylight to Notre Dame. We even passed what was probably the most ornate and over the top Abercrombie & Fitch store I've ever seen.
Walking along the streets of Paris, especially this stretch of streets and parks, is one of the most relaxing and enriching strolls one can take while in town--for first timers like Pat and Joanie, return visitors like me, or those friends of mine fortunate enough to call, or have called, Paris home. The elegance and art along these avenues is unrivaled, splendid and serene from the lampposts to the iron gates, from cobblestone streets to gilded statues, from fountains dancing in the breeze to flowers beaming in the gardens, from the banks of the Seine to the towering and iconic Tour Eiffel scraping the sky. It seems there is no inch left undecorated by magic and magnificence.
Following the Seine, we arrived once again at Notre Dame and went inside to admire the dreary Gothic beauty within. The stained glass and tall arches above made me marvel at the architecture and sheer magnitude of such a project to build something so amazingly monumental, hundreds of years ago.
After admiring the cathedral, we walked across the Seine to La Rive Gauche, where we finally found the famous Shakepeare and Company Bookstore. Inside were bookshelves packed with treasures from all sorts of genres, from modern to classical. Upstairs, there was a music room, complete with a small upright piano and of course packed with books as well. The entire place had a warm, old feel to it, and with the music of the pianist and his accompanying acoustic guitar player it was difficult to pry myself away to purchase the James Bond book I found. But I had plans that last night in Europe, with a friend made in Hamburg who lived in Paris! I purchased the book and a Shakespeare and Company journal, had them placed in a plastic bag to guard against the rain, and expertly made my way back to the hostel, through intermittent downpours and without an umbrella (wasn't about to purchase yet another one with less than 24 hours to go)!
By the time I was on my way to meet Claire, the rain had eased up a bit and I wasn't terribly soaked when I found her at the bar at which we had agreed to meet, just around the corner from the restaurant where we had reservations. It was so great to see a familiar face, and to be out with such an experienced local. After a second stop at another nearby bar, we made our way over to Les Deux Canards, my favorite restaurant in Paris (so far) and one Claire hadn't yet been to. Like my last time there, Gerard was charming in his showmanship and (re)introduction to the dining experience there, and the food was divinely mouthwatering yet again. Thoroughly satisfied, we paid our bill and walked toward a speakeasy in a nearby neighborhood Claire knew of: Marche Montorgueil. This part of Paris is apparently the most popular to live in, and left a lasting impression on me with its charming boutiques and welcoming cobblestone streets that were intriguingly complemented by cozy alleyways and sidebars; I loved it!
After a couple drinks and some good conversation inside the warm and lively little speakeasy, Experimental, we moved onward toward Pigalle, near the neighborhood where Claire lived and where she knew of another interesting club/bar worth seeing. We decided to have one last drink here, inside an oversized birdcage complete with couch and small coffee table, enjoying the last hour of our Wednesday night together out on the town.
It was bittersweet but I began to reflect on the reality that I would be back in California less than 24 hours from that moment. After leaving and a short walk down the street, it was time to part ways. I thanked her again for the company and continued friendship from the moment we met in Hamburg almost a month before, and like ships in the night we moved forward, hoping to keep in touch even if it was unlikely that we'd get a chance to get together again in the foreseeable future for another international outing. But such was the way of things for a traveler like me, touring Europe by backpack from city to city, covering as much ground as humanly possible and aiming for breadth and not depth this time around. I could only hope to find a way back to my favorite places and people so that I might gain another opportunity to experience that deeper connection to that which I only obtained a taste. And so I walked alone back to the hostel, across town in the wee hours of the morning past metro lines and train depots and abandoned streets, not yet sunrise but perhaps too late into the night to commit to sleep. Walking along the quai as I approached my last destination, I captured some final memories and took it all in one more time. I had had one hell of an adventure. The only question left was the one posed by a painting on the wall of the staircase leading to the lobby from my floor at the hostel: Where to next?
