Un bon jour avec un bon ami

I'm sitting on the grass in the Parc George Brassens, just up the road a little way from where I'm staying. The sun is just going down and families are playing and walking in the park. There are fountains, playgrounds and courtyards and a scented garden, and under the trees, there is a man with three little ponies. Overhead are jet streams and high cirrus clouds. Everywhere I can hear a relaxed and happy buzz of people. I have just had my own little picnic with food that i bought from the little organic supermarket over the road. I feel contented to the core.

This morning, another bad attack of homesickness but then it all starts to improve. First there was a message from Florian saying yes, he could meet me today. Then I got a surprise phone call from my very good friend. How strange to hear a NZ accent and to be speaking English! And then another phone call from Chris. So good to hear all is going well at home.

I get ready and head down the street to meet Florian. We have arranged to meet at the laundromat where I first met him on Saturday. And before I know it, I am getting on a Paris bus, and then on the metro! Florian explains how to navigate around using the public transport, and it seems so easy. I could have saved myself so much walking for the last two days, but then again I have been able to see Paris close up, parts that most tourists would never see.

We are heading for Sacre-Coeur because Florian wants to show me the cathedral and the little streets of Montmartre. It is a little way outside the city but I am amazed how quickly we arrive at the metro station. The beautiful spired and domed cathedral is up on a hill and there is a "funiculaire", a little cable car, that takes people up and down. The building is breathtaking from every angle. It is much prettier than Notre Dame; I suppose because it was built in a much later period. We go up the steps; Florian takes photos of me - finally I will have some photos of myself in these places; up till now it's just been photos of the scenery and I wondered if perhaps people will think I was never there at all.

 

Inside Sacre-Coeur it is very peaceful and majestic. Photos are not permitted in here and there are signs up saying "Silence". I don't have a problem with that because I am lost for words anyway. The architecture, stonework and art are unbelievable. I buy a guidebook for five euros - I will enjoy reading it later.

Underneath the cathedral, you can buy a ticket to gain access to the basement vault and the dome. I buy tickets for Florian and myself, despite his protests - although he has lived in Paris all his life he has never been up to the dome, and it's the least I can do to show my gratitude for his hospitality.

The vault is interesting with a sort of museum containing things like the ornate cardinal's vestments, a large choir book and some heart shaped lockets dating back to the First World War, in which we figured out, you were to put an offering for the church and a written prayer for your soldier.

 

Then through another gate and we begin a very steep climb up spiral stone steps. The space is very small and dark, and the climb is not for the faint hearted! Halfway up I am puffing hard and I say to Florian, "Tu es plus jeune que moi!" You are younger than me. We laugh and our voices echo around in the stone stairwell. But then we are at the top and it was worth every step - the view is beyond description. You can see every part of Paris from here. It's just amazing.

 

Back down the stone stairs and I keep having to "unwind" by turning clockwise every couple of rounds. Florian is laughing. Here is your word for the day, I tell him. "Dizzy". How do you say it in French? "Tournee", he tells me. Turned. It makes perfect sense. French is so much more logical than English.

We decide to go down on the "funiculaire" and then we are in a little town square. People are everywhere, selling all sorts of things, mostly tacky, but some good things. There are also beggars, and some of them plead with tears in their eyes, but I am smarter now, and I even see a girl with the same "deaf and dumb association of Paris" clipboard, so at least I know what that is all about. Being with Florian seems to offer some kind of protection too, though at the bottom of the steps to Sacre-Coeur there are some men who think he is Italian and are trying to tie something around our wrists, some sort of string bracelet. They only want money but you can see how tourists would be sucked in. They are extremely pushy. As Florian says, if I want something I will go and buy it; I don't want to be forced into buying something I haven't planned on. but further along there are two smiling black guys busking with a guitar. They are seriously good, so we stop and listen for a while. This is something that I can support, I tell Florian, and we both give them some money.

Further down a street it is quieter, and this is the space that Renoir did his paintings. I can imagine it; it's very pretty here. I'm surprised to see a sign saying "Attention, abeilles" - there are beekeepers working on hives in a little park above the street. I tell Florian that in New Zealand we only have bees in the country, never in the city. Apparently a lot of city parks here have hives.

Back on the metro and Florian is taking me to see the canals and parks by the Seine. We are walking along the canal and I want to take a photo, but he won't let me yet; he says it is not pretty enough. And he is right; just around the corner there is a canal lock under willow trees and a passenger boat is waiting in the lock. We watch as the gates open and water pours into the lock; the boat rises and then the next part opens and the boat can pass through.

We walk for a while up the canal and then it's time to go back on the metro - Florian has to go to work. I have had such a lovely time - I tell him he is the best tour guide ever. He is just a beautiful young man, so friendly and gentle and easy to talk to. What a wonderful thing that I met him in the laundromat. He is also free tomorrow morning, so we decide to meet up again, as it's my last day in Paris.

On my own now, I take the metro to the Musee d'Orsay. The building used to be a railway station and there are some enormous glass clocks in the arches of the roof. It reminds me a lot of the movie "Hugo". I must see that movie again when I get home, only this time I will watch it in French.

I like this much better than the Louvre. The paintings are gentler, softer, more full of light, than what I saw there. Of course this museum houses the paintings of the most famous impressionists - Monet, Renoir, Gaugin, Manet, van Gogh. I find myself getting quite lost in each piece. It's actually a very happy thing that I'm on my own, because I can pause as long as I like in front of each painting and the only dialogue is internal. Somehow, conversation spoils this process. Especially when I hear an American or Australian accent it seems to grate on the nerves and is out of character in this beautiful place of culture. I am glad I don't have to hear my own voice.

I am hungry so I queue up for some lunch at a cafe inside the Musee. In front of me there is an Australian family. They order "two iced teas..." and something else and then with my new found confidence in French I order "une baguette au fromage et jambon, un jus d'orange et un petit gateau chocolat, s'il vous plait". I am so glad that I can do that. I would hate to be ordering in English. It would just be wrong somehow.

In all I spend about four wonderful hours at the Musee, but then I decide it's time to go. I am so glad that Florian showed me how to use the metro, because in a very short time and two train rides later, I am at the end of Rue Brancion and I only have a very short walk. What a contrast from last night when I finally found my way back, tired and footsore and so homesick. Tonight after stopping off to buy myself some groceries at the lovely organic supermarket over the road, I arrive back at my room full of energy and bursting with happiness at what has been the most perfect day. I am still missing home, but I am loving Paris and feel so grateful to be alive and to see all of these wonderful places.