The day started off with my insistence that I needed a new outfit to wear to the opera - Tilly pants and runners might be practical, but they just weren't going to cut it. Fortunately, there are very many shops in our district, and (despite Jackie not liking to shop) we ventured into quite a few.
One of the first problems we had was that sizes in Europe don't match sizes in North America. I mean, am I a 34, 36, 42? I have no clue. I grab a whole bunch of skirts in various sizes to find out. I bought a nice top and skirt, but then there was still the problem of shoes. Again, shoe sizes don't match either. And pointy-toed shoes are "in" here. Are they at home? (No, they are not. Not yet. Apparently I don't pay as much attention to fashion as I should.) Anyway, I bought some "space boots", as Jackie refers to them.
Although Jackie tried on a few outfits, she walked away purchase-free, while I had several bags. She was more interested in finding a fleece blanket for her upcoming hike in Pamplona, Spain.
We wanted to find another one of those Turkish places to eat, but we walked for a long time without finding one, so we stopped at a cafe called Le Velocipede for lunch. After leaving, we walked a half-block before discovering another Turkish restaurant. Aargh! I knew that would happen.
With the shopping out of the way, the agenda for the day was going to take us from the depths of Paris all the way to high society. For one of the lesser known tours in Paris, we walked down to Pont de l'Alma, to visit Les Égouts (the sewers of Paris). Yes, you can visit the sewers! Isn't that exciting? Who, after having read the five-chapter lecture on the sewer system in Les Miserables, hasn't wanted to recreate Jean Valjean's trek through the sewer tunnels?
Well, I guess it isn't quite as exciting as the book. Our tour guide book does warn that the smell can be quite unbearable in the summer, but fortunately it was a cool windy day, so it wasn't so bad. Nevertheless, there is a certain... um... fragrant ambience to the area. And neither of us was too thrilled at walking on the grilled walkways with all the brown fragrant water rushing by just a short distance below our feet.
Jackie's comment was that "It sure is humid in here." I advised her not to think about where that humidity was coming from. Hee!
Paris has approximately 2000 km of underground tunnels that house the sewage pipes, etc. There were displays on what was built in the Roman era, medieval eras, and how they were modernized relatively recently, how they are cleaned out, etc. It actually is quite an interesting tour. And we learned that the metros and the trains are actually below the sewers (which might explain the smell sometimes).
And hey, while we're on the topic, did you know that you often have to pay to use the toilets here? 40¢ here, 40¢ there... They have self-cleaning pay toilets on the street, but we've never used them. Personally, I doubt they self-clean - I suspect the civic workers open them up and hose them down in the evening. Our hotel also has rooms without toilets, and so there are these little toilet cubby-holes in the stairwell. They're so small that you'll bang your knees on the door, and better yet, there's no light switch inside. Apparently the light goes on when you lock the door (I'm not sure how Jackie discovered this). There are toilets that you flush by pushing a button on the wall, or by pushing a plate on the side, or by using a pull chain from an overhead tank. They've got pink toilet paper, white paper, grey paper. I've never seen such toilet diversity.
We walked back to the Louvre, where Jackie felt a need to see what Parisian "Häagen-Dazs" ice cream was like (yum! she says), then we took the metro back to our hotel and got dressed up for the Opera.
The Palais Garnier building is spectacular. So neat to be able to walk up the Grand Staircase! Of course, probably half the crowd is tourists, but so what! Since we hadn't been able to see the auditorium, we were quite eager to get a look. We showed our tickets to an usher, who walked us to our box and unlocked the door (looks like a little ship door, with a porthole on it) to our box. There's actually no doorknob on the outside - an usher has to let you in. I suppose this prevents people from coming in "fashionably late", because they won't allow you inside after a certain time.
Anyway, the box is all red - red carpet, red wallpaper, a little waiting area with a cushioned bench and a mirror and a place to hang your jackets. The seats are just beyond that. They aren't fixed seats, but cushy little red chairs. And, it is literally a little box seat. The whole first three balconies are separated into little boxes. Which does not do much for visibility for those sitting in seats 5 and 6 at the back of the box. Guess where Jackie and I were sitting? Le doh!
Fortunately, the other people in the box were quite friendly, and one of the seats was free, so Jackie moved up one, and the rest of us moved our chairs so that we were all huddling a little closer.
The auditorium is spectacular, however. Gold and red velvet everywhere. The ceiling was painted by Chagall, and the main chandelier weighs several tonnes (in my opinion, a very good reason not to spend 160€ for a seat on the main floor).
The opera itself was "The Italian Girl in Algiers" by Rossini (never heard of it before), and it was a modern staging, which was quite amusing. The opera was sung in Italian, with French subtitles projected on a screen above the stage. As for the plot, it was silliness on a grand scale, but the singers and the staging were excellent.
For intermission, we wandered around and took some pictures. Apparently, you never get to walk through the Grand Foyer anymore, because it was still roped off. Guess that's the only way to keep it looking grand!
After the opera, we hopped back onto the metro (how déclassé!) and rode back to République, where we stopped to eat. Actually, I stopped to eat - Jackie stopped to have a giant-sized beer. She can't seem to order a beer properly - she always gets a giant-sized, or two or three, when she claims she only ordered one. (Perhaps this is just her cover story. "Oh, they must have misunderstood me. Why does this always happen? C'est la vie - bottoms up!")
When we got back to the hotel, it was already 12:30 a.m., so that was the end of that!
One of the first problems we had was that sizes in Europe don't match sizes in North America. I mean, am I a 34, 36, 42? I have no clue. I grab a whole bunch of skirts in various sizes to find out. I bought a nice top and skirt, but then there was still the problem of shoes. Again, shoe sizes don't match either. And pointy-toed shoes are "in" here. Are they at home? (No, they are not. Not yet. Apparently I don't pay as much attention to fashion as I should.) Anyway, I bought some "space boots", as Jackie refers to them.
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| Dressed for the Opera! |
Although Jackie tried on a few outfits, she walked away purchase-free, while I had several bags. She was more interested in finding a fleece blanket for her upcoming hike in Pamplona, Spain.
We wanted to find another one of those Turkish places to eat, but we walked for a long time without finding one, so we stopped at a cafe called Le Velocipede for lunch. After leaving, we walked a half-block before discovering another Turkish restaurant. Aargh! I knew that would happen.
With the shopping out of the way, the agenda for the day was going to take us from the depths of Paris all the way to high society. For one of the lesser known tours in Paris, we walked down to Pont de l'Alma, to visit Les Égouts (the sewers of Paris). Yes, you can visit the sewers! Isn't that exciting? Who, after having read the five-chapter lecture on the sewer system in Les Miserables, hasn't wanted to recreate Jean Valjean's trek through the sewer tunnels?
Well, I guess it isn't quite as exciting as the book. Our tour guide book does warn that the smell can be quite unbearable in the summer, but fortunately it was a cool windy day, so it wasn't so bad. Nevertheless, there is a certain... um... fragrant ambience to the area. And neither of us was too thrilled at walking on the grilled walkways with all the brown fragrant water rushing by just a short distance below our feet.
Jackie's comment was that "It sure is humid in here." I advised her not to think about where that humidity was coming from. Hee!
 |
 |
Paris has approximately 2000 km of underground tunnels that house the sewage pipes, etc. There were displays on what was built in the Roman era, medieval eras, and how they were modernized relatively recently, how they are cleaned out, etc. It actually is quite an interesting tour. And we learned that the metros and the trains are actually below the sewers (which might explain the smell sometimes).
And hey, while we're on the topic, did you know that you often have to pay to use the toilets here? 40¢ here, 40¢ there... They have self-cleaning pay toilets on the street, but we've never used them. Personally, I doubt they self-clean - I suspect the civic workers open them up and hose them down in the evening. Our hotel also has rooms without toilets, and so there are these little toilet cubby-holes in the stairwell. They're so small that you'll bang your knees on the door, and better yet, there's no light switch inside. Apparently the light goes on when you lock the door (I'm not sure how Jackie discovered this). There are toilets that you flush by pushing a button on the wall, or by pushing a plate on the side, or by using a pull chain from an overhead tank. They've got pink toilet paper, white paper, grey paper. I've never seen such toilet diversity.
We walked back to the Louvre, where Jackie felt a need to see what Parisian "Häagen-Dazs" ice cream was like (yum! she says), then we took the metro back to our hotel and got dressed up for the Opera.
The Palais Garnier building is spectacular. So neat to be able to walk up the Grand Staircase! Of course, probably half the crowd is tourists, but so what! Since we hadn't been able to see the auditorium, we were quite eager to get a look. We showed our tickets to an usher, who walked us to our box and unlocked the door (looks like a little ship door, with a porthole on it) to our box. There's actually no doorknob on the outside - an usher has to let you in. I suppose this prevents people from coming in "fashionably late", because they won't allow you inside after a certain time.
Anyway, the box is all red - red carpet, red wallpaper, a little waiting area with a cushioned bench and a mirror and a place to hang your jackets. The seats are just beyond that. They aren't fixed seats, but cushy little red chairs. And, it is literally a little box seat. The whole first three balconies are separated into little boxes. Which does not do much for visibility for those sitting in seats 5 and 6 at the back of the box. Guess where Jackie and I were sitting? Le doh!
Fortunately, the other people in the box were quite friendly, and one of the seats was free, so Jackie moved up one, and the rest of us moved our chairs so that we were all huddling a little closer.
The auditorium is spectacular, however. Gold and red velvet everywhere. The ceiling was painted by Chagall, and the main chandelier weighs several tonnes (in my opinion, a very good reason not to spend 160€ for a seat on the main floor).
The opera itself was "The Italian Girl in Algiers" by Rossini (never heard of it before), and it was a modern staging, which was quite amusing. The opera was sung in Italian, with French subtitles projected on a screen above the stage. As for the plot, it was silliness on a grand scale, but the singers and the staging were excellent.
 |
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For intermission, we wandered around and took some pictures. Apparently, you never get to walk through the Grand Foyer anymore, because it was still roped off. Guess that's the only way to keep it looking grand!
After the opera, we hopped back onto the metro (how déclassé!) and rode back to République, where we stopped to eat. Actually, I stopped to eat - Jackie stopped to have a giant-sized beer. She can't seem to order a beer properly - she always gets a giant-sized, or two or three, when she claims she only ordered one. (Perhaps this is just her cover story. "Oh, they must have misunderstood me. Why does this always happen? C'est la vie - bottoms up!")
When we got back to the hotel, it was already 12:30 a.m., so that was the end of that!
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