Arrivederci, Italia. Bonjour, France!

I was somewhat disappointed when I left Milan.

I hadn’t considered the fact that it was the weekend of the big Feast of the Assumption holiday, so nearly everything was closed as most of the locals had left the city. I managed to catch a few tourist attractions including Castello Sforzesco, Duomo di Milano, Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, and Santa Maria delle Grazie (where Leonardo da Vinci painted the Last Supper) but didn’t see much local culture.

The city was gorgeous though – a beautiful mix of old and new. I wished I could have observed it with more locals about.

I bid arrivederci to Italy, thoroughly satisfied by my 2-week pizza-pasta-gelato binge and ready to attack some French pastries and bread.

Paris, Part 1

Excerpt from my travel journal, dated August 17th, 2016:

I took the train from Milan to Paris. It was an 8-hour long ride! My butt hurt so bad, I had to keep walking around and changing positions. I also ended up buying the most overpriced bar of KitKat because everything else was ridiculously expensive.

I arrived in Paris around 5 PM. Despite the aching in my joints, I had enjoyed the view on the way, especially when I noticed the change in the architectural style of the passing houses as we crossed the border into France.

I bought a 5-day Metro pass (again – SO worth it) and took the subway to Colonel Fabien station, which was walking distance from my hostel, Generator Paris.

Most of the people in my room don’t speak English. My bunkmate is this beautiful 25-year-old Argentinian named Pablo. He tried his best to communicate with me, and it was like an awkward game of Charades! At one point he said he had slept in a sling during his travels and it took a lot of gesturing before I realized he meant “hammock”.

I went out to meet Kharla (a classmate of mine from high school) and her husband, Sato, who happen to be touring Paris at the same time. We met up outside the Louvre, right next to the pyramid, and stayed there until the sun went down. We walked around the area for a bit, crossed a bridge over the Seine and had dinner at this little stall by the river.

Excerpt from my travel journal, dated August 18th, 2016:

Woke up when Pablo’s alarm went off at about 8 AM. That was a good thing since I had forgotten to set mine and had booked a tour for 10 AM.

I rushed to shower and change, and have breakfast, which was included in the hostel stay. Finally, some protein for breakfast (I had eggs, yogurt, and ham)!

Caught the Metro to Île de la Cité, where I met our guide, a Michael Cera look-alike named Charlie. He was a 22-year-old Brit who had studied history and literature (focused on medieval iconography). He was extremely knowledgeable and passionate about the history of France.

From our meeting point, I could already see some of the spires from Sainte Chapelle and could hear the bells of Notre-Dame de Paris. At that point, I could not stop thinking of the Disney movie and had to stop myself from bursting into song.

Charlie took us on a walk around Île de la Cité, talking about the rich and bloody history of Paris, from the Parisii tribe of ancient Gaul, to Julius Caesar’s Lutetia, the Francs, the French Revolution and World War II.

Then he took us to Notre-Dame de Paris, possibly the most beautiful building I’ve ever been in. I saw some amazing things in Italy, but somehow the skill of design and more restrained, streamlined Gothic elements was a welcome respite from the sensory overload of Renaissance art.

The stained glass windows were my favorite parts: visually stunning, filtering the natural light into a soft array of colours. I couldn’t help but look skyward and think about how small I am in this great big world, and yet how significant that Jesus would die for me.

We went around looking at old pillars, reconstructed damaged work, medieval sculptures, and grisly relics, including the so-called actual crown of thorns (doubt it). Charlie pointed out damage from several attacks on the building throughout the centuries.

We went up the bell towers next, where we saw gargoyles, chimeras, and beautiful views of the city, as well as the gigantic, old bells.

After the tour, I grabbed a sandwich from a boulangerie and ate it while running to my next tour at the catacombs. It started raining, and even though I had my umbrella with me, it was cold and wet, and I was very uncomfortable.

The catacombs were very interesting. Our guide’s name was John (also a Brit). For two hours we wandered through the darkness and looked at the millions of skeletons stacked one on top another. Seeing centuries of the remains of Paris’ long-deceased people was a glaring reminder of my own mortality.

It is believed that one pile of bones includes the remains of King Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, as they were dumped in a mass grave to “equalize” them with their former subjects. Now, it’s impossible to tell which skeletons belonged to a princess or a pauper.

Oddly, it was a little bit reassuring. One thing is for sure – we all die. And when we are nothing but bone, we aren’t so different, any of us. Rich, poor, male, female, brown, black, white…most people would not be able to tell the difference. Death is the great equalizer. And at the end, is there anything from our lives that was worth remembering, that leaves a lasting impact on the world we’ve left behind?