Traveling to Paris
This travelogue started here. To save everyone's feeds, the details are behind the cut.
For the last time this trip, I headed down to the bakery to pick up some bread. I will really miss this part of life when we get home.
After a nice breakfast with the gang around the table, the four of us piled all our crap back in to the car and headed for Rennes. Having been there for the market, the drive there was pleasantly uneventful, at least until we got to the train station. First we had some problems figuring out how to get on to the street in front of the station going the right way. Once we got that done, there was no obvious place to return the rental car, and no place to park or stand while one of us tried to find it. We ended up going around a few blocks trying to loop around, when we spotted a Hertz sign. It turned out to not be the place where you return cars, but where they service them. However, the nice woman was able to tell me where the return area was. I walked the block to the train station to find my esteemed spouse (who had also found the return place), and we got the car parked in the return lot. The people at the return counter in the train station were as nice to work with as the guy we had picked it up from. I can certainly recommend Hertz as a place to rent a car in France.
We splurged on first class tickets on the TGV to Paris. That would give us a little more room and places to plug in and recharge some of the millions of electronic devices we had brought along. We grabbed a quick lunch of sandwiches and drinks, which killed just enough time for our train to be ready for us to board.
The ride to Paris was uneventful, and the change from the real train to the metro wen't smoothly as well. Luckily our apartment in Montmartre was near a metro line that also stopped at our train station, so we didn't have to change lines with all our luggage. However, when we came up out of the metro, we were met by a horde of hucksters, ticket sellers, food vendors and probably thieves, but they didn't draw notice to themselves yet. It turned out the apartment we found through Air BnB was in one of the more ethnic neighborhoods of Paris. As it turned out, that was a good thing.
We followed the map the apartment owner had provided and walked straight to the apartment building. We found the key where she said it would be, and made it in to the apartment in only two elevator trips. (The nice man who rode up on the second trip assumed where we were staying, so she must rent out her apartment a lot.) It was tiny by American standards, and was pretty crowded with 4 or us (and our 2 weeks worth of luggage) in it. But from the balcony you could see the top of the dome of Sacré-Cœur!
We relaxed for a while, then headed out to a nearby grocery to get breakfast essentials (and bread and wine and cheese). On our way there we passed a nice little middle-eastern restaurant that smelled wonderful. On our way back we decided that an early dinner at the apartment was in order, so we stopped in. Again using limited French, limited English and lots of hand gestures, we managed to order four tasty meals to take away.
Absolutely everywhere we went people were friendly and helpful. No one was worse than brusque (and that was a busy civil servant), much less rude or condescending. We were consistently met with smiles (sometimes because they thought we were silly, I'm sure) and friendliness. I think Americans need to get over their stereotypes of the French.
After eating, I decided it was way to early for bed, event though it was already dark. But Sacré-Cœur was right there, man! So the other male and I headed out to see what there was to see. What we saw were steps. Lots and lots of steps. We started up. We stopped for a breather (neither one of us is 20 anymore). We made it to the top, only to see another set of stairs to make it to the church proper. We decided we liked the view from there just fine. And the crowd was amazing.
There were people just hanging out all over the steps. There were the obvious tourists, taking pictures and gawking (like we were), there were the teenagers just chillin', there were the hucksters trying to get people to buy their light up toys. I kept thinking "It's a Wednesday night people! Don't you have to work or go to school tomorrow?" Ah well, not everyone is as much of a fuddy-duddy as I am.
We headed back down the stairs to the apartment (not needing to stop on the way down), past several bars where the clientele (and often the tables) had spilled out in to the street. Not the typical night life you find in my little mid-western suburb. Back in the apartment we helped turn the sofa into a bed for the other couple, and we all headed for bed.
The saga continues here.
For the last time this trip, I headed down to the bakery to pick up some bread. I will really miss this part of life when we get home.
After a nice breakfast with the gang around the table, the four of us piled all our crap back in to the car and headed for Rennes. Having been there for the market, the drive there was pleasantly uneventful, at least until we got to the train station. First we had some problems figuring out how to get on to the street in front of the station going the right way. Once we got that done, there was no obvious place to return the rental car, and no place to park or stand while one of us tried to find it. We ended up going around a few blocks trying to loop around, when we spotted a Hertz sign. It turned out to not be the place where you return cars, but where they service them. However, the nice woman was able to tell me where the return area was. I walked the block to the train station to find my esteemed spouse (who had also found the return place), and we got the car parked in the return lot. The people at the return counter in the train station were as nice to work with as the guy we had picked it up from. I can certainly recommend Hertz as a place to rent a car in France.
We splurged on first class tickets on the TGV to Paris. That would give us a little more room and places to plug in and recharge some of the millions of electronic devices we had brought along. We grabbed a quick lunch of sandwiches and drinks, which killed just enough time for our train to be ready for us to board.
The ride to Paris was uneventful, and the change from the real train to the metro wen't smoothly as well. Luckily our apartment in Montmartre was near a metro line that also stopped at our train station, so we didn't have to change lines with all our luggage. However, when we came up out of the metro, we were met by a horde of hucksters, ticket sellers, food vendors and probably thieves, but they didn't draw notice to themselves yet. It turned out the apartment we found through Air BnB was in one of the more ethnic neighborhoods of Paris. As it turned out, that was a good thing.
We followed the map the apartment owner had provided and walked straight to the apartment building. We found the key where she said it would be, and made it in to the apartment in only two elevator trips. (The nice man who rode up on the second trip assumed where we were staying, so she must rent out her apartment a lot.) It was tiny by American standards, and was pretty crowded with 4 or us (and our 2 weeks worth of luggage) in it. But from the balcony you could see the top of the dome of Sacré-Cœur!
We relaxed for a while, then headed out to a nearby grocery to get breakfast essentials (and bread and wine and cheese). On our way there we passed a nice little middle-eastern restaurant that smelled wonderful. On our way back we decided that an early dinner at the apartment was in order, so we stopped in. Again using limited French, limited English and lots of hand gestures, we managed to order four tasty meals to take away.
Absolutely everywhere we went people were friendly and helpful. No one was worse than brusque (and that was a busy civil servant), much less rude or condescending. We were consistently met with smiles (sometimes because they thought we were silly, I'm sure) and friendliness. I think Americans need to get over their stereotypes of the French.
After eating, I decided it was way to early for bed, event though it was already dark. But Sacré-Cœur was right there, man! So the other male and I headed out to see what there was to see. What we saw were steps. Lots and lots of steps. We started up. We stopped for a breather (neither one of us is 20 anymore). We made it to the top, only to see another set of stairs to make it to the church proper. We decided we liked the view from there just fine. And the crowd was amazing.
There were people just hanging out all over the steps. There were the obvious tourists, taking pictures and gawking (like we were), there were the teenagers just chillin', there were the hucksters trying to get people to buy their light up toys. I kept thinking "It's a Wednesday night people! Don't you have to work or go to school tomorrow?" Ah well, not everyone is as much of a fuddy-duddy as I am.
We headed back down the stairs to the apartment (not needing to stop on the way down), past several bars where the clientele (and often the tables) had spilled out in to the street. Not the typical night life you find in my little mid-western suburb. Back in the apartment we helped turn the sofa into a bed for the other couple, and we all headed for bed.
The saga continues here.