On Bastille Day, we got off to a later start, and took the Metro back to near the Musee d’Orsay, to see the tail-end of the military parade. (We got an accordion/clarinet duo on the train with synth backing in one of our carriages, which made the lone guy with an accordion who jumped on next seem much less impressive.) Seeing all the different uniforms (and the way they were varied for the women serving) was neat, and we got a few photos with the General Assembly building in the background, but after a while we decided to take advantage of all the crowds watching the parade and not going to the Louvre (which is free on Bastille Day), to got to the Louvre. (We also entered via the Lion’s Gate, avoiding all lines.)
We had a strict regime in the Louvre – trekking from highlight to highlight. I’m not sure that this is the way that I would have chosen to see it, if only because I don’t feel that I got as much out of it as I could have. That bastion of the Louvre’s marketing, the Mona Lisa, was both small and far away – the crowds in front of it are large, and I’m not sure that it’s the most conducive way to appreciate its genius. I liked some of the paintings and statues that we saw in passing, but anything that was featured on the Louvre map seemed to be surrounded by tourists trying to establish that they’d really been in the same general area as something famous. That said, I was unreasonably pleased to see the Code of Hammurabi – not just because it was another check on my “We’re the Mesopotamians” list, but because it’s the first time in history that civil laws were written down, rather than justice relying on custom, memory and the whim of authority. It’s also a big black rock with writing all around it, written so many generations ago I find it had to grasp.
We returned to the Tuileries for lunch, sitting in the shade of the trees, and then continued on to the Champs-Elysees to be intimidated by the shops. (We tried booking tickets to Eurodisney, but were foiled after an excessively long time in a line, followed by not being able to get the discount from Visit Paris; in the end, we decided not to go after all.) However, C and Gemma managed to satisfy a desire to have a coffee on the Champs-Elysees, so all was not lost.
Some of us retreated to a Fnac to regroup, and slowly various members departed until it was just C, Gemma and myself. C managed to buy something, and then we headed towards the Metro, only to find our train entrance mysteriously blocked by a group of milling, confused and frustrated people.
We now know that “colis suspect” means “suspicious package”, or “some idiot tourist has left their luggage behind, and now the French have to blow it up.”
We decided to try an alternate route home; I noticed that we were passing the Louvre on the way. I decided to strike out on my own, since there was a lot of the museum that I’d failed to see, and someone had said that it was open until 9pm. Unfortunately, it appears that it closes early on Bastille Day – at least, earlier than I arrived there. So I got a replacement pen to write postcards with, and hopped on what I hoped was the train back home.
Several changes later, I arrived back, we had some dinner, and C did some research to see whether it was possible to see the fireworks from Sacre Couer. Some of the internet resources said that you could; and the crowds at the top suggested that you might.
You can’t.
However, we did get to see a lot of fireworks across the rest of the city, some of which may have been Disneyland from. And among the crowds on the hill was an African band playing, someone randomly launching fireworks over the crowd (and sometimes into the trees), and a guy climbing a street-light and doing football tricks while holding himself out with his arms. We headed back soon after realising that the changing glows towards the Tower’s searchlight meant that the fireworks were already happening, and that’s when we saw the guy peeing on a wall (and being photographed by a friend with a camera-phone), completing our Paris day.
Speaking of classic Paris, at some point during this day (I can’t remember when), we saw someone with three cards on a table gently parting someone from their money. I find that particular hustle a lot more acceptable than the whole “intimidate people into taking a crappy string bracelet and then extorting money” scam, since (a) it involves skill and cooperation, (b) you can’t get scammed unless you’re greedy, and (c) you can’t be coerced into participating. Actually, we seem to be collecting the set: Meredith was approached with the ring scam, and as we were walking along she also got the “I just need 25 Euro to get back to my hotel at Euro-Disney”; Margie had the variant, “My house burnt down, can you help?” I’m waiting for someone to leave an antique violin as a guarantee that they’ll pay, and to be asked to help a princess held prisoner in Spain… It’s a bit tiring to have to be on your guard all the time, and I’m looking forward to the Lake District and Hay-on-Wye.
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