Paris - The Many Memories

Uncle Rick first took me and my brother Watson to Paris in 2001 for our 13th and 16th birthdays respectively. Having made all As and Bs in school that year, this was the trip I had finally earned. I was giddy as a school boy (well, I was a school boy) as departure day approached, thrilled to experience my first trip out of the country. We set out from Richmond to Paris via Cincinnati on an Air France 747 - up to that time the biggest plane I had ever been on. Though I was no stranger to flying, the turbulence we endured on that flight was so severe I doubted we would ever survive. My only recourse was to close my eyes and pray to awake in France.

Fourteen long years since my first trip to Paris, memories - albeit a bit fuzzy - still abound. Though some of the details have been lost to time the stories still abound. Uncle Rick brought us to the many landmarks of Paris - the Louvre, Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur, etc. We took the train to Versailles to stroll though the gardens and admire the splendor of the palace. Watson and I ate many new foods, such as escargot and horse steak. 

Dad, Watson, Uncle Rick, and I at Richmond Intl. Airport

To celebrate our birthdays and my brother's, Uncle Rick took us to a performance at the infamous Moulin Rouge. Our table was right next to the stage donned with two bottle of Moët & Chandon. Tits were flying everywhere, separated by other performances from a pair of brothers specializing in Hand Balancing to a naked woman swimming in a large tank with a 20ft snake. My brother, meanwhile, couldn't stop starring at the tits. Uncle Rick and I each enjoyed one glass of champagne though we didn't exactly have any other choice - Watson drank all the rest. 

Walking to the Moulin Rouge

 A friend of Rick's met up with us for an evening, and he used the opportunity to take us for a dinner cruise on the Seine. It was remarkable to begin at 8:30pm with the sun still high in the sky. 

La Conciergerie on Île de la Cité

Rick rented a car and drove us to the nearby Eure Département to Monet's Home and Gardens in Giverny. Walking through the gardens was a surreal experience, their beauty almost mystical. No doubt Monet sought to recreate the garden of Eden. Inside his home are replicas of his many paintings, which Watson was naïve enough to say, "aren't those the real ones?" 

Lily pond

On our way to the airport we had a rather nasty taxi driver who was rude in every sense of the word. She was speeding down the streets, zigzagging through cars, and makings us all uneasy. When Rick asked her to slow down or else stop and let us out she just ignored him. Reaching in his bag he found a swift means of justice. As we approached the airport, he told my brother and I to grab the bags and walk straight in. As we did, he proceeded to pour an entire bottle of perfume all over the back seat of the car. He exclaimed later, "Her car will stink for days." 

My first trip to Paris ended with me longing to visit again. I had caught the bug for good. I was forever more a Francophile. The trip home however was one I shall never forget. Our small plane lifted up above LaGuardia airport, banking south over Manhattan bound for Richmond. From my window seat on the plane's port side, I starred down at the incredible city below, and in the distance, the towering World Trade Center. Little did I or anyone else know that three short months later, the world would change forever. 

Over time, I made several more trips to Paris. In 2003, Rick and I again visited briefly in August. We foolishly chose to fly standby during the peak of travel time, almost getting stranded upon our return. Getting there was tough enough! When we got to the gate in Richmond, the agent said we would not be getting on the flight, so were rerouted to New York. We got the last two seats on the last flight of the day, and luckily for me, I got bumped to Business Class. However, our bags didn't arrive in Paris for two days. Wearing a suit and cowboy boots, I walked endlessly down the cobblestone streets. As the French say, "pain is beauty."

The day we arrived was the finale of the Tour de France. We walked along the street through scores of people watching as Lance Armstrong cruised to another drug enhancing victory. 

At the Luxembourg Gardens

Probably the coolest thing I ever saw in Paris were the abundance of manmade beaches. The Quay (a road) along the right bank of the Seine was closed for a three mile section and littered with palm trees, sand boxes, beach chairs, volley ball courts, boardwalks, and colorful striped tents. The only thing missing was people swimming in the river, though that would be quite dangerous. 

Hotel de Ville and the "beach" in front

I next returned in 2004 during my summer spent in France. Initially I was not destined to visit Paris, but Uncle Rick and I came for one night after our week in Provence. I returned again for the last 3 weeks of my summer, living with Chef Paul's nephew in the 18th Arrondissement. All but broke and with time on my hands, I set about exploring the city on foot. 

La Tour d'Argent - one of the premier restaurants in Paris.

Le Panthéon in the Latin Quarter

Inside Le Panthéon 

Looking in the Alma tunnel, where Princess Diana and
Dodi Fayed were killed in 1997

I spent one afternoon at the Louvre perusing the many galleries I hadn't seen on previous trips. Two standouts worth mentioning: the basement, where the original Louvre fortress' foundation can be viewed and the other were Napoleon's Apartments. 

Model of the original Louvre fortress

Louvre fortress foundation

Venus de Milo 

Foyer to Napoleon's Apartments

Napoleon's preserved Dining Room

Unable to sleep one night, I left the house early to catch the first train to Versailles. I arrived well before the palace opened which afforded me ample time to walk through the open gardens. 

The Grand Trianon is famous for its pink marble

The Grand Trianon

Walking through the King's forrest

My last day before leaving for home, I visited the famous Père La Chaise Cemetery, the most prestigious eternal resting place in Paris. Many celebrated poets, authors, artists, stars of stage and screen, politicians, and aristocrats lie dormant in grand mausoleums. 

Oscar Wilde