Paris, episode 7. In which I'm that guy.

I'm the husband who took his wife to Paris for Valentine's Day.  For the weekend.  Yes, I'm that guy.  In my defense, Valentine's Day is a momentous occasion in our life together and 2014 was a particularly special Valentine's weekend, so settle in for another flashback.

I'm a romantic, in case you haven't been reading between the lines (and within the parentheticals). When Mari and I re-met during that college summer in 1988, I knew after our long drive to Fort Wayne for our NTE exams that I had met the woman I would marry.  Unfortunately, Mari was not in on my little secret.  I told my friends when they returned to school in August for our final year and they were fairly shocked since they had not yet met Mari, but I think they believed my sincerity.  Even after I gave Mari a very un-subtle heart-shaped gold locket (with tiny little inscription I still can't believe the artisan at Things Remembered at University Park Mall was able to script on the back!) for Christmas, she was still lovingly clueless.

"... thy heart lies open unto me."

from a Tennyson sonnet, if you must know

My fault.  I didn't wear my heart on my sleeve in the 80s, just my Izod collars turned up.  So when Valentine's Day 1989 rolled around and we had dinner at the one and only table for two in front of the fireplace at a romantic Italian restaurant, and we watched my favorite romantic movie (Somewhere in Time--don't even get me started), and I got on ever-romantic bended knee and proposed marriage, I think I jolted that temporary discombobulation out of Mari for good.

When the 25th anniversary of this most special occasion approached, I began trip planning and list making in deepest romantic earnest.  My initial plan was to surprise Mari with a weekend at Notre Dame and a repeat fireside dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant in Mishawaka, Indiana. Unfortunately, our romantic restaurant had closed and that Midwest winter of 2013-2014 was proving to be ridiculously cold with daily high temperatures in the region barely above 5 degrees.  Undaunted, I refused to deprive my wife of an over-the-top decadent romantic surprise.  Several days of exhaustive internet searches and transactions later confirmed that I was ridiculous (Mari's word), that I was more in love than ever, and that I would have almost as good a surprise for Mari as I had 25 years prior.

It's tough to beat a

surprise proposal.

I was able to keep my surprise until a few days before our scheduled departure.  I have trouble keeping secrets from Mari (I guess that's a good thing?) and when it started getting to the point that I was bending the truth about details of our trip to her and her parents, I had to come clean.
I also didn't want Mari to pack for 5 degree weather when the weather at our actual location was about 50 degrees.  So I confessed one evening after dinner with her parents (during which I had promised to buy something for them at the campus bookstore) that I was taking her to Notre Dame for the anniversary of our proposal, but not the Notre Dame she was expecting.

A few days later we were on the Pont des Arts pedestrian bridge after (finally!) an in-depth tour inside Notre Dame.  At top, we are attaching our inscribed souvenir "love lock" to the railing like a couple of silly teenagers in love.  Gotta do it.  It's so amazing to be connected for so long to someone who shares my love and passion for so many things, especially travel.

Our 25th engagement anniversary included another walking tour, albeit shorter and less meandering than our initial visit to Paris together. Above are a few more photos of our Valentine's Friday.

At The Louvre, lots of red heart-shaped balloons were passed out to visitors waiting in line on that drizzly Friday.  Mari and I decided to forgo another abbreviated two-hour tour and instead ventured out to have some tea and treats at a beautiful Ladurée location in the Madeleine shopping district just north of the Place de la Concorde.  We had discovered the artfully sweet confections of Ladurée, a colorfully charming pastry shop, during our previous Paris weekend visit near our hotel, and had planned on warming (and sweetening) up at the Madeleine location before continuing on our way.  Not pictured are the mini tarte tatin, pistachio eclair, and multicolored macarons that temporarily graced our tea table.

If you visit the exquisitely beautiful site

laduree.com/en_int/#

you may just be tempted to make a weekend visit yourself.

More romantic treats (including another surprise proposal) next time.

Paris, episode 4. In which we walk no more.

I usually spend much of our travels not with fleamarketing tote in hand, but with trusty video camera strapped to my right hand.  Sometimes I forget it's there and that makes for some interesting "raw" footage when I'm downloading and editing back home.  Our walking tour of Paris was the first iMovie project I completed (and certainly not the last!) and was also the first I shared with students.  I had one particular class that 2006-2007 school year that was absolutely fascinated that I was traveling abroad during Spring Break, especially that I was spending "just" a day in Paris.  The boys wanted proof when I returned and the girls demanded pictures.  About two weeks of editing and tinkering (and a little bit of fussin' and cussin' at the computer) later I was able to meet the demands of that smallish (about 15) lunch-hour class, which had become one of my most favorites after 17 years of teaching, with my 20 minutes of Paris iMovie fame.

Even when Mari and I are fleamarketing, as you are (visually) well aware, I still have one hand strapped to a camera most of the time.  Unfortunately, there was no time for fleamarketing on this first Paris adventure, but there was plenty of browsing, especially during that stretch of the Champs-Elysees beginning at the Arc de Triomphe.

With limited time, Mari and I knew we weren't in Paris that day to shop, but souvenirs still somehow found us along the way of our pedestrian antics.  We don't typically buy souvenirs that mark our travel territory by proclaiming our love for cities or miniaturized memento monuments (with or without simulated swirling snowflakes), but instead try to return home with items unique to our traveled location. Typically, I like to buy a piece of art which will eventually find a place on the "travel gallery" wall in our home's entryway.  While a Monet or Matisse would have made a very lovely addition to the travel wall, I wasn't going to risk a life sentence (or two!) in a French prison for the sake of sentimental home decor.

Mon Dieu!

Instead, Mari and I were excited to find local vendors, craftspeople, and artists selling a wide array of souvenirs (and books!) along the Right Bank of the Seine as we completed the final mile of our walking tour.  I was also thrilled to find this colorful 9" x 12" print for all of 3 euro (I purchased a twin souvenir for my map-lender colleague, completing a deux-for-cinq euro bargain in the process).  Although not a Louvre masterpiece, our (now) matted and framed albeit inexpensive souvenir displays proudly, a colorful reminder of an equally vivid day.

Upon exiting the Louvre, we made our way along the Seine this last mile to the final stop on our 10-hour tour, La Cathédrale Notre Dame de Paris, previously pictured (episode 1) by way of a vacationing Kentucky couple.  At right is a final parting shot as the sun set serenely on our (very long) day.


An unfavorable alignment of church services, interior repairs, and limited time kept us from venturing much further into the cathedral than barely beyond the foyer, but the comforting reassurances of the cathedral's six plus centuries more than mollified any anticlimax I may have felt.

I also knew we'd be back some day.

For the present, I had discovered another city that doesn't sleep although this travel documentarian was ready for a two-and-a-half hour Chunnel-lulled nap.  After digitally immortalizing a few final views of our beloved Notre Dame, Mari and I straggled to a nearby metro stop and back to the Eurostar station at Gare du Nord.  Still, we couldn't help but capture this exquisitely detailed lamp post above the street entrance to the metro.

I rather like this final photo I took at the station while we waited, crispy (tuna and tomato stuffed) baguette lying in wait for train sustenance.  Like I said, no time for fine dining during a 10-hour tour of Paris, but our taste buds (and shopping buds!) would eventually have their day.

Our first weekend...

weekend = fleamarketing!

...in Paris next time.

Paris, episode 3. In which we become weary with wonder.

There are certain things we take for granted as Americans and as tourists.  We're adults here, right?  We all have adult needs?  After an early morning Chunnel ride from London and after a leisurely stroll to the Arc de Triomphe from the Eiffel Tower, there were certain needs that were making themselves more and more needful as our Parisian afternoon unfolded.

We both really needed to use the restroom.

Although armed with some spending Euros for the day, we hadn't really planned on perfecting the pocket change necessary for payment at public restrooms (which were not as readily available as your guidebook will have you believe).  Even hotel lobbies with their presumably spotlessly scrubbed facilities along the way of our meanderings were not open to tourists.

Once Mari and I figured out how to safely get across the mammoth gap between the Arc and the Avenue Champs-Elysees, we ran for our lives (snapping this photo to mark our tourist territory) and began our southeastern trek across the one and a half miles of richly dappled shopper's paradise that would take us to the Place De La Concorde and the entrance to the Jardin des Tuileries and (eventually) the Louvre.

We had stopped briefly at a busy boulangerie/patisserie for a cheesy, gooey, toasty croque-monsieur to tide us over until later that evening (no time on a 10-hour walking tour of one of the majestically oldest and exquisitely busiest cities in the world to experience fine dining) so we weren't looking to sit and dine (maybe just to sit and unwind).  As we walked the first block or two onto the famous shopping avenue, Mari and I were both struck (silly) simultaneously with the unexpected juxtaposition of trendy designer names like Swarovski, Montblanc (have I mentioned my pen collection?), and Hugo Boss with perhaps the most famous, least-designer (most-comforting) brand name that has ever crossed our gaze.

McDonald's gave us the break we deserved that day!

During our brief, but much needed respite under the Golden Arches, we also learned to ask for a cup of ice at the McCafe to complement the unfathomably warm soft drinks dispensed to customers at the fast-food counters.  I'll save my treatise on why Americans have come to rely on a higher ice-to-beverage ratio than any other world tourists for another balmy day, but just know that the glistening icy jewels were a welcome little luxury that afternoon.

As you make your way down the Avenue Champs-Elysees, you'll have plenty of opportunity to people watch and window shop, reminiscent of a walk down 5th Avenue or the Magnificent Mile, only it's not New York or Chicago or any other city you know because it's freakin' (pardon my French) Paris! Stores and designers both familiar and foreign, restaurants and pastry shops both chain and unique, buildings and sites both modern and historic line your paved promenade so be sure to linger as you stroll your way down the famed avenue and eventually through to the Champs-Elysees Park where you will exit at the Place De La Concorde, the largest public square in Paris.

It is impossible to miss at the square's center the giant hieroglyphics-decorated obelisk, a gift from Egypt that originally marked the entrance to Egypt's Luxor Temple.  From this now French landmark you have approximately a one mile stroll through the Tuileries gardens to reach The Louvre, the penultimate stop on our Best-of-Paris-in-10-Hours-Walking-and-No-Stopping-Tour.

Upon entering the striking Tuileries with its gravel-lined paths crunching beneath your (tired!) feet, you'll be greeted with layers upon layers of geometrically landscaped greenery, still slumbering peacefully during our pre-spring stroll. The enormous palace gardens became public after the French Revolution and even on an early not-quite-spring day, the paths and benches and carefully crafted quiet corners were being enjoyed by the public and tourists alike.

Vive la révolution!

I was fortunate on my first Paris visit to be with an "expert" although Mari would never claim that her prior visit nor her high school French qualified her in any way as an expert, but she was MY expert and my personal tour guide through the streets of Paris, souvenir photo map in one hand and supportive and adventurous (albeit a bit clammy) hand in the other.  That very (very very very) long walking tour is forever memorable to me for Mari's confident lead and for her contagious overwhelming joy at revisiting a favorite memory and a favorite city.

While my wife had enjoyed a planned and educational afternoon at the Louvre as a teenager 22 years prior to this return visit with her 40-year-old husband, it had been obvious to us while planning our day trip and especially now, after a very (very) long day, that we would be unable to spend more than two hours immersing ourselves in the breathtaking breadth of French art history displayed throughout the Louvre.

That meant Mona Lisa for me and crown jewels for Mari with a few tchotchke inbetween like Winged Victory and Venus de Milo.

Seriously, the moment you share with the Mona Lisa (you will have to find a way to be "alone" with Mona in the small gallery with about a hundred other tourists slash art lovers) will eternally linger with you.  Finding my way to her through the thronged room that was her private home and gazing (not with my usual collector's gaze, unfortunately) at the framed and isolated masterpiece was like looking through a window into the past.  She was colorful and alive in a way that only an artist's vivid imagination could convey.  The only other time I experienced a work of art in this same way was looking up at the glorious ceiling of the otherwise dusky Sistine Chapel--another trip for another blog day.

Still a bit over a mile before our first Paris visit's final stop (and miles to go before I sleep) next time.