on the road less travelled in Ireland and france

How much of Paris can you see in one day? Fran and I decided we could see most of the Big Sites … by bus.

Tuesday, April 30, 2019

Cold and grey start to the day (7-16 degrees, Max at 5pm)

This was always going to be a Big Day. It was the day we “saw Paris”. We planned a hop-on/hop-off tour of Paris. And on top of that was a night stroll around Paris. What could possibly go wrong?

Fran and I bought our 24-hour bus pass near Garde de L’Est, it was a five-layer morning and sitting on top of an open-top bus didn’t help us keep warm. We plugged in our earphones, found the right audio channel and listened to the commentary. Armed with a tour map we had hop-off destinations mapped out.

Our first stop was at a café in Rue de Rivoli – for coffee, hot chocolate and croque monsieur and French “hot dogs” and a pastry escargot.

Caffinated, our next stop was the Louvre. We knew the gallery was shut (it was Tuesday) but we had to tick the attraction off the To-Do List. Luckily a lot of tourists had decided to give the Palace a miss, but there were still hundreds of people … all planning the same photos.

We wandered around under the low grey skies, Fran amazed by the long vistas of the buildings – almost identical – that stretched into the distance. “How many triumphal arches to they need?” asked Fran after spotting a slimmed down Arc De Triomphe in the nearby garden, in the distance we could see its big brother.

In the Tuilerie garden we admired the statues and Fran spotted the open Musée des Arts Décoratifs – its art déco exhibit it resonated with her. Wiki describes it as “Imposing museum with ornate ceramics, crystal and fine furniture, from Middle ages to present day”.

We wandered around the many exhibits, taking photos and admiring the collection. Happy to be out of the cold. We jumped on the bus and discovered the day had finally started to warm up.

Next stop, under clear blue skies was the Quai d’Orsay, the art gallery. There was a queue to get in, which got worse as we entered. We ditched our bags (once through security) and set off to admire art.

My memories of the Quai d’Orsay stem from January 2007 when it was a pleasant place to visit. Fast forward to May 2019 and to a nightmare. I’ve seen better crowds – and crowd control – at a game of football. It was impossible to take more than three steps with almost hitting somebody. It was a cattle crush. An art-inspired mosh pit. 

We hit the Impressionist Gallery, saw a few Renoirs. And escaped, back to the bus. It was nice riding on the open deck, seeing Paris in warm sunshine. Our destination was the Eiffel Tower.

Back in 2007 you could wander around under the tower and decide if you wanted to climb what was once the tallest building in the world. In May 2019 the tower park is surrounded by a fence, there is a queue to get into the park and a queue to get up and down the tower.

Fran and I walked around, got some photos and got back on the bus, for our last nominated stop – Sacre Coeur. By this stage it was early afternoon and Fran and I were tired, footsore but determined to see a Must See Paris Attraction.

The hop-on hop off bus gave our feet time to recover as it crawled through narrow streets that marked the climb to the church.

We passed the Moulin Rouge and the sex supermarkets of Pigalle. And were the almost last passenger to get off at Sacre Coeur. The bus pulls away seemingly empty.

It is now early evening and streets around the base of the basilica are filled with tourists of one shade or another – domestic and from overseas. We reach the steps (270 of them) leading to the highest point in Paris, the park is filling with knots of people – some are gathering to go home, some to admire the panoramic views across Paris, others to picnic and drink.

A man with a carton is moving among the crowd selling bottles of beer. Heineken seems to be the flavor of the week for people drinking outdoors in Paris.

On the final (smelling of piss) steps we are greeted by “assertive” street traders – one of whom insists on trying to put a friendship band on my wrist. I decline, pulling my hand out of reach. (We had been warned about such a scam, which usually involves a pocket being picked or demands for money.)

There is a security guard at the front of the church, our bags are searched before we are allowed into then grounds.

The guide book tells us: “The basilica of Sacré-Cœur is one of Paris’ most visited monuments. The sanctuary stands like a whipped-cream edifice atop the hillock of Montmartre, sharing more resemblance with the Taj Mahal in India than the neighbouring Notre-Dame cathedral.

“The basilica was built between 1875 and 1914 by architect Paul Abadie in Romanesque-Byzantine style. Welcoming more than 11.5 million visitors (tourists and pilgrims alike) each year, the Sacré-Cœur basilica is France’s second most visited church after Notre-Dame cathedral.

 “Much like the initially despised Eiffel Tower, Paris’ Sacré Coeur has always had its fair share of detractors. Parisians frequently refer to it, with more than a touch of disparagement, as “that big meringue” that sits with its turrets jutting out like stiff peaks atop the hilly heights of Montmartre.

“Hated by Republicans who saw the church as an encroachment on the powers of the state, and also by a branch of church conservatives, it was described by one conservative 19th-century contemporary, Leon Bloy, this way: “It is the heart of Jesus turned into a  boutique.”

(Part of this accusation arose from the fact that Sacre Coeur was constructed thanks to the generous donations of those who believed in its symbolism of reconciliation and world peace. The donations made it impossible for the state to stop its construction.)

Fran and I stepped in the church, there were signs asking for visitors to be respectful, to dress appropriately, and not to take photos. We turned off our phones, stowed the camera … then went to light candles for our respective dead spouses. We sat in quiet reflection, listening to the choir. 

Beside us a steady stream of tourists charged by, phone cameras capturing the interior, posing for selfies and generally ignoring the church service that was coming to an end.

The mosaics on the walls had an unusual theme – instead of scenes from the Bible the captains of industry (dressed in long black coats) from the Belle Epoque were portrayed on the walls.

A machine to the side of the church allowed you mark your visit to Sacre Coeur with a pressed Euro coin embossment. I didn’t see a souvenir stall, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if there was one.

We fought incoming crowds to get out of the basilica, took in the view, refused the offer of a beer and headed down the stairs to wait for the bus. Tired, hungry and still foot sore we knew that our comfortable be at Quai Valamy was still many hours away.

 We were now in the wrong part of Paris, at rush hour, and there was no sign of the hop-on/hop off us bus that would have got us back to the other side of Paris.

And time was running out. We needed to be near Notre Dame by 8pm to help drink a bottle of wine.