Day 2: Paris

Once off the plane, we adjusted our watches to the local time (it was already Sunday when we arrived), changed clothes in the airport bathroom and picked up our luggage from baggage claim. We caught the RER and headed to our hotel.

This is when we realized that the Paris Metro is a lot like the NYC Subway system with a few key exceptions:

• People smoke in the train cars (not a lot, but enough)
• The doors aren’t automatic -- this could have been tragic if there didn’t happen to be a local in the train car with us
• Panhandlers swindle tourists out of money with accordions (much classier than the tub drums in NYC)

Our hotel was a small, homey place in the Montparnasse district. It was on a side street filled with cheese and fish markets, bars and vintage stores.



While Sarah and I were charmed by the location and very friendly staff, there were a few weird things to mention about the hotel:

• There was no shower curtain
• We were required to turn in our key each time we left the hotel
• There was no top sheet on the bed
• The twin beds in the room were pushed together and made as one bed. Sarah and I have a long history as roommates so it wasn’t a big deal. But, odd nonetheless

After dropping off our bags, we headed out for our first Parisian adventure. While we may not have felt it, our Day 1 pictures prove that we were exhausted. But, we powered through on pure “We’re in Paris!!” adrenaline. We saw the spectacular stained glass in St. Michele and walked along the Seine.





We ate couscous in a Latin Quarter alleyway restaurant and window shopped.





Then, we explored the Lourve. The Lourve is beautiful in every way – the doors, staircases, ceilings and floors.





Afterward, we wandered through the gardens outside the museum. It was here that I had my first encounter with Diet Coke’s evil, Euro stepsister -- Coca Cola Light. Yuck! This also commenced the week’s DC Detox. I’ll never be that desperate! We posed next to weird sculptures and people-watched. We also found a fountain with drum symbols in the center. When tourists tossed in coins (not me -- I couldn’t throw far enough), they would hit the symbols and make “wish” sounds.







After seeing what became affectionately termed, “Baby in a fat suit”...



...we headed back to the hotel, attempted to write an email on a European keyboard (hunt and peck), changed and left for dinner. My boss recommended a restaurant in the Saint Germain district called Le Comptoir.



The hostess didn’t speak English, so we weren’t quite sure what she was asking us to do. At one point, she tried to usher us away to the bar next door and then she sat two people before us that hadn’t been waiting as long. After all of that, we finally got a table. That's when we naively realized the menu was entirely in French. And, well, neither of us speak much French.

We must have had slightly horrified (and exhausted) looks on our faces. A French woman and her beefy, biker boyfriend seated next to us asked Sarah (in broken English):

Woman: “You don’t know French?”
Sarah replied, “No, not much at least.”
The woman replied, “Oh, well, the menu is in French. HA!”

Thanks, lady.

When the waiter arrived, we pointed at a bottle of wine and two entrees from the menu. It turned out to be beef for Sarah, scallops for me with a shared caramel rice pudding for dessert. On the walk back, we decided to drop in a pub. We sipped a brew while the bartender amused us (or made fun of us -- not sure) by dancing to Elvis and AC/DC.

After an incredibly long day, we headed back to the hotel, set the alarm and fell instantly asleep.