I flew with Norwegian direct from Los Angeles to Paris on one of their 787 dream liner planes. We were really light and there was turbulence over the plains. But we flew far north as the light came and i had good dreams, when i woke it was afternoon. It felt like less than 10 hours. Bring your own food. The inflight entertainment is good.
Aeroport Charles de Gaulle, for its size, is easy enough to navigate. The RER train connects at a terminal and goes to Paris central and costs around 11 euros, no way around it.
Gare du Nord, in contrast, is overwhelming…the world seems to move around me fast in all directions, but the trains take you anywhere. This train takes me to Montmartre.
Today Paris is balmy and warm, and the sunset seems to go on for hours. I pass cafés with terraces, friendly people on the busy streets, to Hostel Le Montclair, my first destination. The hostel is clean, accomodating, chill, and also friendly. Beds are comfortable, hot water works, and attractions are close on foot, even if up many steps.
Montmartre, the mount of martyrs, holds immaculate views, ancient energy, and the white Basilica Sacre-Coeur. On the steps of the south face, looking down toward city centre, tourists congregate, guitarists play. I am in awe. Guys from different African nations try to put yarn bracelets on me and ask me sweetly if i have a boyfriend. There is a carousel at the base, along with many crepe and kebab shops. I get a Sandwich Tunisienne, tuna with olives egg and sauce on baguette.
Around the Moulin Rouge, tourists pose for group selfies. I buy a baguette for less than a euro from a street bakery and “carry it like Cosette.” At the market, I find Camembert and olives for 1 euro each and a bottle of Grenache Rosé for 2 euro, with surprise tartness. This is my late night snack and breakfast.
In the morning, I walk along the north side of Montmartre. It’s quiet except for a group of students from Le Lapin Agile, sitting on the cobblestones, drawing in their sketchbooks. How lucky they are, i think. As i sit on a stone and snack, i look back to see a man sleeping in blankets beside me. “Bon Jour ” we each say as i leave.
Cemetery St Vincent is around the corner, small and serene, with trees in bloom. Sacre Coeur is visible looking up toward the morning sun. I get a café, check out of the hostel and go to Gallieni station for my Eurolines bus to Brussels. The train is fast and there is a friendly accordion player who says “Obama!” when he finds out i am from the usa.
The ride to Brussels is smooth…i sleep most of the way. A Muslim family sits by me, getting off in Belgium. Migrant crisis i don’t see, just a lot of diversity. Countryside is flat with fields, trees, and one sign for Front National candidate Marine Le Pen. Leaves are budding, flowers blooming, windmills still, weather is mild. Entering Brussels, large house neighborhoods hide in the trees and then we hit traffic before the Midi station.
My cousin Freddy, when he picks me up, says it’s unseasonably warm here in Brussels. Like Paris, lots of people are outside, locals and tourists. He takes me to the Grand Place and we eat dinner at Chez Leon, Rue Boucher, a family tradition, he says. I order Eel with 7 herbes and it’s like nothing I’ve eaten before. Tomorrow we visit Ghent, first day of our auto tour.
29 and 30 March 2017
Arianna
arianna's creative travels 