Day Six – Freezing on New Year’s Day

Paris Christmas 2009
December 27th 2009 - January 3rd 2010

Day Six – Freezing on New Year’s Day

For some reason, we slept in until 11am this morning – it seems that the “City of Lights” becomes the “City that Never Bloody Sleeps, Yells A Lot, And Breaks Bottles All Bloody Night” on New Year’s Eve. We turned in at about 2:30, but I was hearing the festivities outside until at least 6am in the morning. Twits are twits the world over.
My MacGyver Solution #2 for coffee worked a bit better than the first try, but still wasn’t ideal. Plus, we’d forgotten to pick up breakfast supplies when we did our grocery shopping the other day, so we didn’t spend too much time in the garret before heading out.

First mission was supposed to be a snack and a coffee for me; however we instead had onion soup and wine at a cafe on Place de la Republic. Unfortunately the soup was actually a bit tasteless until we’d poured an unreasonable amount of salt into it – disappointing. The croque madame that the people beside us had looked lovely - wish we’d had that. We finished lunch (it was after noon, so the wine was permitted, although as Jimmy Buffet so rightly pointed out, it’s five o’clock somewhere...). The Metro took us quickly to Franklin D. Roosevelt.

The decision to tackle the Champs Elysees from the downhill side had been a strategic one – there would be loads of posh people out shopping we thought, and we’d end the walk up the hill with the Arc de Triomphe. We hadn’t, however, counted on the blistering cold or the fact that all the really posh people had done their shopping before Christmas – it was just us and the tourists freezing our butts off (we are clearly not tourists, we’re travellers, but not in the living in a caravan in a school field kind of way). Okay, it wasn’t actually that cold from a Canadian perspective, but we’ve been in London for a few years and have become soft and complacent, and unwilling to deal with sub-zero temperatures.

There wasn’t actually much to see on the street as it turned out. There wasn’t even much traffic on the Etoile so no near-misses or accidents to enjoy (watching heavy traffic at the Etoile is one of the greatest joys of Paris – quantum physicists could watch it to learn about complex relationships and it must send car insurance underwriters into convulsions just to think of it). We decided to find the most heavily touristed area of Paris – the Trocadero and the Eiffel Tower, being amazed on the walk down Rue Kleber by the detritus of the previous night’s festivities. Even the Russians got into the act, leaving an empty bottle of Russian champagne on the pavement.

The Trocadero didn’t disappoint, being fully congested with both bundled up tourists and the jingle-jangle men who follow them like flies do big piles of...well...you get the idea... (so named jingle-jangle men because of the sound their giant hoops of Eiffel Tower key chains make when they shake them). We spent some time taking photos of the Eiffel Tower and of people taking pictures of the Eiffel Tower (I like to think of them as meta photos) before walking down the stairs and across the bridge to the tower itself.

If you wonder what everyone in Paris does on a cold New Year’s day, evidently it’s go to the Eiffel Tower and stand in queues. We’ve never seen it so busy there – it was difficult to walk across from one side to the other – absolutely mental. We eventually made it across and tried to find a cafe for a warming cup of coffee – everything close to the tower was packed so we walked further and further away before walking past one with a spare table.

We sat down, unbundled, perused the menu and decided on a hot chocolate for me, a glass of wine for Jamie, and a slice of chocolate cake to share. The waiter was horrified – we were in the restaurant section and wanted just dessert? Madness, evidently. We were hustled off to a tiny table crammed into a corner, which we decided wasn’t quite what we were looking for.

We eventually found a cafe farther from the Eiffel Tower that was willing to let us have just a drink and dessert – it was actually just around the corner from Les Invalides. Great little place choc-a-bloc full of rugby memorabilia, including a huge supply of signed rugby balls and jerseys. We enjoyed a very tasty hot chocolate, wine, and cherry tarts (the French do tarts better than any nation in the world as far as I’m concerned, and I’m willing to forgive them just about anything based on this. That and the wine. And the food. And the architecture, and the people, and it goes on and on and on...).

Somewhat warmer we braved the frigid streets of Paris, heading towards the Metro and our return to the 11th for dinner and possibly wine (alright, almost definitely wine). A quick stop at one of the few open boulangerie for a baguette and some chouettes (little puffs of choux pastry dusted with a sugary crust – so tasty) and we were home. Dinner this evening included the aforementioned baguette and beef tortellini with ragu sauce we’d picked up the other day at the Italian market store. Very tasty. A quiet night in, but well-deserved after last night’s extravagance.