Paris à pied

With the Paris transportation strike just firing up, Craig and I knew that reliable public transportation would be a long shot for the duration of our trip. Carefully studying our maps and asking the hotel manager countless questions about the locations of various sites around the city, Craig and I meticulously planned out our walking route the early the next morning.

"We'll definitely need to prioritize our time and group sights together by location so that we don't waste time backtracking on foot," Craig reasoned.

"Agreed," I nodded. "I know you're not a fan of art museums, but the Louvre is top on my list."

"Don't get me wrong," Craig said while glancing over the map, "I want to see the Louvre, too. It looks like the museum is also near Notre Dame and Sainte Chapelle."

"We'll probably need to hit the Louvre first since the lines can get really long later in the day," I replied. "So what do you think of hiking downtown, grabbing breakfast at a coffee shop, getting in line at the Louvre before it opens, and seeing the Mona Lisa first before catching the churches?"

Silence.

More silence.

It was at this point that I realized my boyfriend had unmistakably tuned me out to whatever was flashing across the television screen.

"Craig!" I exclaimed waving my hand across his face, thus breaking his mesmerized gaze. "Did you hear what I just said?"

"Of course," he shrugged, "we'll see the Louvre first."

"I'm amazed you caught that much of the conversation," I mumbled. "What are you watching?"

"Rue Sesame."

"Rue what?!"

"Rue Sesame... I had no idea that they had Sesame Street in French."

Intrigued, I turned towards the television only to see the blue "Healthy Foods" monster nibbling vegetables. "I miss the cookie monster," I sighed.

"Me too," Craig groaned while flipping off the TV.

Picking up my purse and pocket maps, Craig and I left the hotel to begin the long trek into downtown Paris.

The sky was still dark when we left our hotel well before 7 a.m. Unsure how long the line outside the Louvre would be that day, our goal was to reach the museum's glass pyramid before opening in hopes of avoiding a long wait.

Our walk into downtown Paris was surprisingly refreshing. After countless trips on the London subway, we were thrilled to walk through narrow streets, watch shopkeepers set out produce displays, and listen to disgruntled Parisians argue with delivery truck drivers. There was something charming about the city just before dawn. Strolling hand-in-hand, Craig and I arrived at the Louvre's glass pyramid as the sun was just beginning to rise. Quietly walking through the Jardin des Tuileries ("Garden of Tuileries"), Craig and I watched the sunrise alone in the park before the city had even begun to open her eyes.

Reluctant to break our comfortable silence, I softly said, "The Louvre doesn't open for over an hour and no one is waiting near the entrance. Would you like to find a place for breakfast?"

Bribed by the concept of food, Craig nodded, and we left the garden to find a cafe along the Seine River. Though unsure of what over-priced cafe we would find along one of Paris's most-touristy boulevards, I was too hungry to venture too far from the river in search of food. Eventually, we found a small cafe (doubling as a bar at night) that was serving a decent breakfast special: toast, jam, two eggs, bacon, and a drink for 5 Euro (approximately $7).

Though it sounds not far from typical American fare, I must admit that the French do breakfast spectacularly to a whole new level. First of all, freshly baked bread and homemade jam -- need I say more? And secondly, the hot chocolate is phenomenal. Throughout my travels, I sought to find Europe's best hot chocolate. True, the Americas own bragging rights to the best coffees, but hot chocolate and tea far exceeds expectations in Europe. Up to this point, Germany was winning hands down with the most decadent hot chocolate... but that was before visiting France. The hot chocolate at that particular Parisian cafe was the most creamy and comforting hot drink my taste buds have ever experienced.

As for Craig, the French finally convinced him to drink his coffee white. Like several caffeine-addicted college guys, Craig had grown accustomed to the standard black coffee -- no cream, no sugar. In France, however, most Parisians drink their coffee with lots of cream (1/2 coffee and 1/2 cream, to be exact). Wanting to fit in, Craig tried it their way and found his coffee to be a rather pleasant experience. Needless to say, his coffee habits have been converted ever since.

After enjoying a relaxing and somewhat robust breakfast, we tipped the waiter and made our way back to the Louvre. The famous art museum was scheduled to open at 9 a.m. that morning, but the transportation strike threw everyone's schedule a little askew. Stepping into a fairly short line around 8:15, a security guard walked to the front of the building to slap a sign on the door that read: "Due to the transportation strike, the Louvre will open at 10 o'clock."

When asked about the delay, he simply replied in surprisingly fluent English, "Our employees have not arrived yet." Apparently tourists were not the only ones affected by the strike!

Standing in line for an extra 90 minutes only served to build my anticipation of seeing the world's most famous art galleries. To be completely honest, I did not even know that the Louvre existed until Dan Brown wrote his controversial novel "The DaVinci Code". From that point, I had become almost obsessed with seeing the Mona Lisa, Madonna of the Rocks, and a few Michelangelo sculptures.

"Stop hopping," Craig chided with a grin.

"I can't help it," I replied. "I'm really really excited to finally be here."

Rolling his eyes, Craig wrapped an arm around me to stop my jittery jumping. "I know this isn't your cup of tea," I began, "but I promise this is the only art museum I'll make you endure while we're here."

"No worries," he said. "I've always wanted to see the Louvre... just not as much as you, I can see."

After endless waiting, the doors to the museum finally opened prompting at 10 a.m. Rushing with the crowd to the closest ticket kiosk, Craig printed our admission tickets as I unfolded a floor map of the museum. "We should probably start with the Mona Lisa since that'll draw a large crowd before long."

Shrugging, Craig handed our tickets to the woman at the ticket gate, and we quickly made our way to the Louvre's most prized painting. As I had expected, the Mona Lisa was rather small. Compared to the "Wedding at Cana" hung on the opposite wall, this womanly portrait appeared tiny. Though a few signs stating "No Pictures" in French dotted the gallery, few paid attention to them and the guards did not seem to mind as tourists snapped photo after photo of their favorite paintings. I was surprised by the fact that no one complained about the flash photography -- certainly, it can't be good for the centuries-old artwork. Not to be a hypocrite, though, I will admit to taking a few photos of my own, but I tried to avoid using flash photography on the paintings.

My best word to describe the Louvre is expansive. With several levels and thousands works of art, Craig and I had a hard time pin-pointing what we really wanted to see. Bypassing the audio guides in hopes of saving money and limiting our time, I had one interesting wish while we were walking throughout the Louvre. I wished that Bill was there with us. Bill and I had already toured several art museums in London and Madrid, but now I was experiencing the largest one without him -- and it was a lot harder to enjoy. When Bill was in high school, he took an AP Art History class that actually served him well while in Europe. Though not too enthused by looking at paintings in a textbook, Bill remembered enough to explain famous works of art and little-known tidbits about the artists as we walked through various art galleries. With all of the Louvre placards written in French, I had a hard time judging whether a specific painting was historically significant or simply pleasant to gaze upon. "Bill would really love this," I thought to myself.

Using my Rick Steves Tour Book and shoddy memory of the "DaVinci Code", I managed to catch a few well-known works of art while Craig and I strolled around the museum. In particular, I really wanted to see da Vinci's "Madonna of the Rocks". During his lifetime, Leonardo da Vinci completed two very similar paintings: "Virgin of the Rocks" and "Madonna of the Rocks". Both contain four similar characters, but legend claims that "Virgin of the Rocks" was painted later with several Catholic symbols to appease the Church. Lucky for me, I would get the chance to see both while in Europe. "Virgin of the Rocks" is owned by the National Gallery in London, and "Madonna of the Rocks" is housed in the Louvre.

Interestingly, the paintings exhibit polar opposite emotions as you view each separately. Glowing with Christian symbology, "Virgin of the Rocks" portrays a warm scene of the Virgin Mary with Jesus, John the Baptist, and an angel. With cherub-like cheeks, the painting appears similar to other Christian scenes completed in that time period. "Madonna of the Rocks", however, evokes very different feelings. Void of halos and crosses, the characters in the painting appear to have almost remorseful expressions and "Mary's" hands look almost claw-like in nature. Though many leave this up to speculation, I truly feel that each painting was design to serve a very different purpose.

Catching glimpses of Venus de Milo, Michelangelo's Slaves, Cupid and Psyche, and the Winged Victory of Samothrace, Craig and I felt ourselves trudging through gallery upon gallery until the paintings appeared virtually all the same. Reaching our limits at about the same time, Craig sunk into a gallery couch and said, "I don't know how much more I can take of this."

Ready to leave, we walked back through the Louvre's glass pyramid just as a tourist mob was pushing its way into the museum to see the Mona Lisa.