Good Times in Paris

Get up! Get up! Get up! Get up!

Brian's voice was distant, yet as I awoke from my sleep I was in a dead sprint, and soaking wet...

It all started the day after we arrived in Paris. After the wonderful night of smoking and conversation with Philip at Julien's apartment we had all become quite good friends. We found out that Philip was from Quebec, and consequently quite fluent in French, so that was very nice. Anyway, we woke up that morning a bit later than expected, and were planning on booking a night train for Rome. We rolled out of bed and got ready, walked to the metro station, and began our trip to the big train station (Gare de Bercy).

Halfway through our metro ride, everything stopped. The locals were painted with expressions of a strange humor-anger mix, as if this kind of thing happened more often than it should. A french voice came over the speaker and the train emptied. We looked curiously at Philip, who told us that a suspicious package had been a few stops ahead of ours, and the metro was shutting down in case it was a bomb. So much for that train.

So, while waiting for the metro to start back up, we left the underground and decided to explore Paris. Luckily, we got stopped right by the Seine, and a beautiful park in downtown Paris. As we wandered, we found a cheap wine shop that Julien had spoken to us about and stopped in for a bottle to share during lunch. We stopped by and bought a 4-euro bottle of wine, much to the chagrin of the clerk. We then found a market, bought some bread, cheese, and a bit of meat (our subsistence in Paris), and sat by the Seine to enjoy a wonderful Parisian lunch.

The food was outstanding on our empty stomachs, and as we watched the river and drank wine, music drifted from the tunnel a few steps away. A man was playing old American tunes in an elaborate one-man-band fashion, featuring accordion, trumpet, kick drum, and others. A beggar walked up and asked for some food, which we obviously had. Brian gave her a piece of meat, and at her insistence, a bit of baguette. Wisely, he knew that this kind of toll is necessary for good karma. As the night unfolded, we realized that it had worked.

We went to the station and were unable to book our night train. "Full" is all that the attendant said. With the help of Philip's French, we booked an overnight the next night which arrived in Milan at 5AM and then left for Rome at 7AM. This was good news, but it came with bad news. We had no place to stay. Julien was leaving town and so we were stuck. Realizing this, we bought more wine.

Our plan quickly became to stay up all night with Philip, wander the streets of Paris, drink wine and beer, and fool our bodies into thinking that this was ok. Everyone agreed that this was the best option, and personally, I was thrilled. A night like this was sure to be incredible.

Having decided our night plans, we headed to the Louvre which is beyond explanation. The structure is so massive. You can't stand on the lawn in front of the museum and see the whole thing. Once inside, it's worse. We saw the Greek/Roman/Egyptian exhibit, along with the Mona Lisa and Venus de Milo, and we maybe, MAYBE scratched the surface. It's extensive - simply unbelievable.

Once we left the Louvre, our stomachs were hungry, and so we decided to have a banquet. We bought the usual bread/cheese/meat, but also supplemented it with salad (lettuce and pasta variety) and potato chips. Oh, and 3 more bottles of wine, as well as 10 cute bottles of Kronenberg. If we were going to stay up all night, we needed fuel.

We returned to the Louvre to find huge groups of people all over the lawn, doing the same things that we were doing. We had a wonderful meal right in front of the Louvre. The scene could not have been more beautiful. French and English mingled into the night, and we drank until we felt quite pleasant. All this time, the top of the Eiffel tower called to us. After each drink we would catch it in the corner of our eye and talk about how the journey there would take up a lot of time. We mingled with the locals and were proper tipsy at this point, and so boldy set out to find the Tower.

I would say we walked but it was probably more of a stumble. Half-way through the walk Philip taught us a Quebecoise drinking song. His method of teaching went something like this: I will scream this song as loud as I can, and eventually these Americans will learn it. But we never did. We knew the first line, and substituted the consequent lines with bad French and meaningless sounds. Philip was pleased. On the way to the Tower we found the only market still open and bought more beer, as well as some tobacco. This find raised morale to the point of pure bliss. We were stumbling through the narrow Paris streets, enjoying beautiful weather, all the time staring at the tip of the Eifel Tower, our Holy Grail.

We arrived at the tower and quickly dispersed throughout the shrubbery surrounding the monument to relieve ourselves. In the process, two unopened beers were discovered, and this caused a beautiful riot among our tiny group. We sat under the Eiffel Tower, staring up at the blinking and flashing lights, drinking beer and having smokes. This was paradise. The Tower itself is much more beautiful and elaborate than I expected, and so I was completely blown away. I think we all were.

The Tower started blinking eratically and we ran to the side in order to see it in all of its glory. Unknowingly, we stumbled onto a large group of locals enjoying the tower, and whiskey. We were ecstatic. We began to mingle and talk and laugh and cross language barriers. Often I was speaking more with my hands than anything else, using Philip when necessary, though his drunk Quebecoise French was getting harder and harder to understand. They shared their whiskey with us. Soon we found ourselves in the midst of some freestyle French rapping, and we danced and danced and danced. With Brian's iPod we sung them "Last Trumpet," which they immediately grooved to. That night I remember hearing "Land of ZZ Top, land of ZZ top" constantly. This is how they knew Oklahoma. What a unique representation our little state has =)

Having talked to friends for hours, it was now about 4:30 AM. We had danced and laughed for hours, and decided to head back "home," which turned out to be the Louvre...for whatever reason. Anyway, we walked back through those narrow Paris streets, and this time the stumble was legitimate. But god we were so happy. It took us much longer than it should have to get to the Louvre, a journey which featured much drunken yelling, but we made it. The sun began to rise as we got on the lawn. We noticed others crashing there, and as we were bedding down the sprinklers came on and they had to run. Taking ourselves to be wiser than them, we layed down right next to the main sidewalk, an area which seemed to be sprinker-free. Quickly, however, security came over and shuffled us off. We hopped the nearest hedge and allowed our bodies to collapse, wearing smiles that can only come from a drunken night next to the Eiffel tower, with incredible people in Paris.

So that's where this all started. Brian began yelling and Shannon, Philip and I were running before we had woken up. A good thirty minutes was about the extent of our sleep on the lawn. Now that we were up, we decided to find a nice French cafe to get our day started with some coffee. We wandered for an hour and quickly realized that the French are not in a hurry to wake up. Fortunately, though, we did find a cafe, and shuffled in to warm up and dry off.

Talk about a group of people that don't belong in a Paris cafe...I'm sure you can imagine. Regardless, we ordered the cheapest bread and cheapest coffee, and were presented with the smallest bread and smallest coffees, as well as 4 waters. We talked about the night and laughed about what an amazing time it had been, and then received our check, on which we were charged 7 euro for the water. We yelled for a bit, and eventually the only charged us or 2. We took it.

From the cafe, we wandered back to the park that we had discovered the day before, and realized that it opened at 8AM. We waited about 15 mins and the gates opened. We stumbled in, found some incredible reclining chairs by a fountain, and crashed with the morning sun shining down on us.

Maybe we looked homeless, or maybe Americans are too judgmental, but either way, when I awoke Brian explained that a few Americans had walked by and said the following:

"Look at those homeless people. How disgusting. Let's come back and take pictures later."

What they didn't know was that Brian was not actually asleep, and had one eye on them as they said it. With what must have been his last ounce of effort, he raised his fist, one finger piercing the air, and valiantly explained to them that they were out of line. They didn't come back for that picture.

We got a few hours in the park, got our packs from Julien's, caught our train, said goodbye to our now-close friend Philip (who we hope to meet in a week in the Netherlands) and are now in a pub in Rome. We've seen all the sights here and it's just fascinating. More on that later. We're heading to Paris tomorrow and hopefully we will have internet there.

Ciao!