Paris et Les Invalides
World Cup 2006: Wandering Europe
SNAPSHOTS:
2. Zidane, Ribery, et le Trocadero at Midnight
3. Aller a Strasbourg
4. The Autobahn and the Art of Happiness
5. What Happened in Berlin
6. My Birthday: Berlin in Summer
7. Back in the Thick of It: Ghana v USA
8. Sam's Army, Cognitive Dissonance, and Facepaint
9. Born in the USA
10. "USA!" he yelled. "USA!"
11. And our best player left the field on a stretcher.
12. We watched happily as the scores of passing Ghanai...
 Lamenting a Profusion of Tourists (Paris) |
I arrived from London at the Gare du Nord train station.
Stepping onto the pavement, my big backpack on my back, I found the streets around the station partially peopled by festive fans en route to World Cup 2006 - mostly Mexicans clad in red, green, and white, and the ubiquitous Brazilians in their flowing green and yellow. I struggled to recall even a shred of the French I'd learned in 8th grade as I stared at the multi-hued fourteen-noodle spaghetti called the Paris Metro map.
"Je voudrais acheter un map de Paris," I tried my half-French with a shopkeeper in the station. He politely replied in English.
Two transfers on the Metro brought me to Les Invalides, where I surfaced into a beautiful land of broad lawns speckled with occasional picnickers. Rimming the lawns were elegant government buildings sporting French flags that flapped patriotically in the breeze. Gold statues on towering pedestals glinted in the setting sun. The Seine rushed by audibly on my right under marvelous ancient bridges. And above me, not far off, towered that most famous of modern steeples, the Eiffel Tower. I took a deep breath. It was my first time in Paris, and I was enchanted.
I walked down the street, leaving the lawns behind. Spilling from the windows of restaurants and cafes and apartments were the sounds of...yes, of course, of the World Cup. France was playing South Korea.
I continued on towards Rue Jean Nicot, where Lourdes, my mother's friend, lived. At a fancy building that matched the address I'd scrawled on a piece of paper, I rang the bell. Someone buzzed me in. In the lobby, I found the smallest elevator I've ever seen - a teensy, coffin-sized phone booth. I squeezed in with my backpack and pushed the button for the fifth floor.