A Short Trip de la Folie: Paris so far

We arrived at the Nice train station to find all of the trains quiet. An electrical problem delayed our train—- and everyone else's.

My kids hovered around me in a very crowded station as everyone stared up at the monitor waiting for updates. I think my kids were a little freaked out. Despite the scene, our train was listed as on time, which gave us four minutes to reach the platform. Yeah. Right. But I encouraged the kids to take their time and wait out the crowds so they wouldn’t feel so anxious.

I’ve mentioned before that I think train travel here is not as fabulous as everyone makes to out to be (of course, what is the alternative?). I’m an American, I need signage! A train pulled up and Taylor saw a large “2” painted on the side, so he said - “here’s car number two.” I said, “no honey, you have to look for the sign on the door (sometimes handwritten)” and pointed out that all of those cars had the number “2” painted on them. If you were in an industry that used numbers as identifiers, wouldn’t you come up with another way to name your type of train, like car companies or Virgin Atlantic Airways? One train car in Cinque Terre was still labeled its previous destination, but some of the other cars had the current destination. I overheard a tourist (ha— newbie!) get panicky because she was looking at the wrong sign. I also need uniforms and nametags— in Italy, some guy who looked like a gypsy was standing at the top of the stairs directing people to our train. I thought — oh great, this gypsy is loading us all into a train car to steal our stuff or kidnap us. My friends are going to receive one of those emails, like “Hi, I’m in Italy and got robbed,” but they won’t believe that it’s really me. The French trains are much better, they have uniforms, but they are so ugly, I am embarrassed for them; I have problems looking the attendants in the eye because I feel their shame. This does not help international communication.

Much of the machinations are a mystery to me. Our train from Nice to Paris wasn’t labeled with a destination at all, and with the delays, I was hesitant to board a train that was in the right place at the right time, I’ve messed that up before! I double checked and we boarded, but then the guy on my car (we were the first one) made the announcement and listed all of the cities— except Paris. I went to ask him and he deadpanned, “no this train does not go to Paris— oh, just joking!” Again, not helpful (but funny— oh those French!).

My kids are rockstars on the trains now. I am so proud of them.

So this is supposed to be my Paris — so far post, but we’ve been so busy since arriving that tomorrow is our last full day here. Nevertheless, here’s what we’ve done and seen here, so far.

The entrance in in the upper left corner of this picture,
under the fartherst awning. The line snakes around in
a very orderly fashion.

Rick Steves style, we got up early on our first day and hit Musee Orsay. The first Sunday of the month was free, so the cheap Scot in me bound into action for the 9:30 am opening. I read that if you got there before 9 there would be 70 people in line and if you got there at 9 there would be 400 people in line. Well, as always, everyone else read that too and when we got there just shy of 9, there was a giant mob.

Yeah! Breakfast on the line!

We got in line, then I left the boys and grabbed croissants and coffee— yep, our first breakfast in Paris was standing on line at a museum. Fitting. About an hour into it, I did the math to figure that the kids get in free anyway, so we were all waiting in a giant line for me to get in free— a savings of 9 euros— I just spent that on a coffee on the Champs Elysees. Ack— the mania just took over!

Nevertheless, we waited another half an hour and we got in. The kids did well for the audio guide, listening off and on with our iPods. I questioned the timing of the Orsay because it’s Impressionists and we hadn’t covered this time period in history. We are in the Napolenic years and we haven’t done any art history for that time at all, contrary to preparing for the Renaissance before our trip to Florence. About an hour into it Cooper says— very loudly because he has his ear buds in, and almost accusatory like I had cheated him out of something- “WAIT A MINUTE!! ALL OF THIS WAS HAPPENING DURING COWBOY TIMES?” And his mouth was agape— like— Mom, how could you!? I’m not sure what he was so mad about. I wasn’t about to get into the middle of it right in the museum; I was embarrassed enough as it was.

Museum fatigue set in and we set off to see Van Gogh as our last stop. I got stopped by a guard who was telling me that my kids spoke beautiful French, and we started chatting. It was the most French I had spoken in Paris so far because we’ve been surrounded by Americans in line. Anyway, the kids went on to Van Gogh and I was having so much fun talking with this guy, I decided to skip it. Hopefully someone can fill me in later.

The afternoon was spent on a bike tour of Paris— absolutely one of the best things we’ve done. My kids loved it and the guide was charming and fun.

Leaving the Orsay. No, we don't look like tourists at all!

One of the kids mentioned that we’d taken a pedi-cab up the Seine from the museum to the Eiffel Tour to catch the tour (I was afraid we’d be late and we still needed lunch), and I said to him, “now Samuel wants to be a pedi-cab driver,” and kind of rolled my eyes. He said “well, he could be a bike tour driver and start his own company.” Immediately, I thought- oh shit, this is one of the owners! I had been told the company was run by a young American and an English guy, and this guy was nicely dressed, enthusiastic and personable. Had I just insulted the owner? I just mumbled something about entrepreneurs and melted back over to my bike. Later when I composed myself again I asked him how long he’d been doing this and he said, “oh, I just got a one year Visa; I just started.”

Scenes from the bike tour.

After a busy Sunday, I thought I’d let the kids sleep in on Monday. I only planned a walking tour of historic Paris, including the Ile de la Cite, the Left Bank and Notre Dame. Easily a half day and no museums. If the kids were up for it, maybe a park. Easy. …Noooo. Y’all stop me if you’ve heard this before because it happens EVERY EFFING TIME I LET MY KIDS SLEEP IN!!! They turn into monsters.

A lazy morning followed by FOUR HOURS OF WHINING!! Why do I do this— it never pays off for me. Apparently their timers (which go off at 4pm) do not take into account the starting time. If we are out the door at 8:30, they fall apart at 4. If we leave at 11, they fall apart at 4. Why can’t I remember this?? They didn’t want to go to the top of Notre Dame and they pooped out before the grand finale I had panned— a tour of the prison, including Marie Antoinette’s cell where she stayed before she lost her head. Now I was losing mine as I dragged them to the closest Metro station, where they proceeded to kick each other and touch each other the entire way back to the apartment.

It was all OK because with all of that extra time in the afternoon, we could do some homeschool! They were pissed; and the next day I got them up bright and early!