Source: Christmas in Paris – New Year in Paris – Paris Tourist Office

Looking for a new tradition? Go to Paris for Christmas or to ring in the new year! The city dressed up for the holidays will take your breath away — if you go to Paris during Christmas time, you might think the city got their nickname “The City of Light” from this time of year. (Actually, it was probably because they were the first European city to use gas lamps outside.) The entire city is bathed in Christmas lights, from storefronts and windows to trees and landscapes. As always, there is plenty to do, including visiting Christmas markets and seasonal ice rinks.

I have given details below of several of my favorite things to do in Paris this time of year. But first, here are 12 pictures of holidays past to see for yourself: Paris during the holidays is a must-do. Even if it’s just once in your lifetime.

Here are 3 of my favorite activities to do in Paris during the holidays:

“Reconnect” with loved ones on the ice; just be sure to wear gloves.

1. Go ice skating at one of the temporary ice skating rinks, such as: inside the Grand Palais (avenue Winston Churchill, from 14 December 2016 – 2 January 2017), or outside on the Eiffel Tower (5 avenue Anatole, from 15 December 2016 – 19 February 2017). Ice skating isn’t just for kids: it can be a good way to “reconnect” with the one you love, especially if one or both of you have a hard time staying upright on the ice. Doesn’t that sound like fun for the whole family? Just be sure to wear gloves as protection from the cold and others’ skates in case you fall. Or is that when you fall?

Christmas markets are a great place to eat and people-watch.

2. Walk and admire, eat, drink, and buy gifts at Christmas markets. There are Christmas markets all over Paris, but probably the largest is on the Champs-Elysees. The highlights of my visits to this market in 2014 were talking to a Moscovite about his black lacquer boxes he had for sale and eating a crepe with Grand Marnier. (Okay, I might have had two.) I also got a serving of German-made goulash that was so large I had leftovers for 2 more meals. Since you’re in France, you can also purchase hot and cold liquor drinks to warm your bones.

Celebrating New Year’s on the Champs-Elysees? Hope you like crowds!

3. Ring in the new year on the Champs-Elysees (31 December 2016). Could there be anything more romantic than celebrating New Year’s Eve with the one(s) you love under the stars in Paris? I doubt it.

Salut !

 Fouquet’s Paris and Galeries Lafayette by Elsa L. Fridl. All other images from Flickr, CCBY 2.0. Featured image, Galeries Lafayette by Brett. The Eiffel Tower by C. A Paris Street by Dirk Haun. Au Printemps by Brett. Vendome Place by PhOtOnQuAnTIQuE. Notre Dame by Linus Mak. A Christmas Decoration by Jean-Yves Romanetti. The Champs-Elysees by Daxis. A Tree with Lights (“Christmas in Paris”) by John Stanforth. Decorations at Notre Dame (“Notre Dame dans la Boule”) by Luca Vanzella. Paris Opera House by Chris Chabot. Ice Skating on the Eiffel Tower by C. Christmas Market by Linus Mak. Celebrating New Year’s by Falcon Photography.

Moulin Rouge, where Henri Toulouse-Lautrec found inspiration for his art.

Monday. My last day in Paris. I can’t believe a month has gone by already. I’m trying to savor every moment today. I’m pretty organized – I’ve reorganized my stuff enough times, I should be – so I went to buy that cute mug I saw in a shop nearby (with its own spoon!) and bought a few other small souvenirs. A guy who has a kiosk selling souvenirs at Blanche Metro had gone to his home country and come back, so I got to say good-bye to him. He asked me when I would be returning: I told him I didn’t know, but that my heart will always be here. He smiled in recognition.

I went to Champs-Elysees one last time, and took in the ambiance as much as I could. I don’t want to leave. I belong here. I wandered around taking pictures until I knew I couldn’t put it off any more. I walked to the Champs-Elysees Metro and took it for the last time to Blanche Metro. After I got off, I took some pictures of Moulin Rouge and met some travelers: one of them asked me if I wanted my picture taken. Sure! Then I walked up the Montmartre hill to Le Basilic and had dinner there again – another perfect French meal — and took a few pictures, saying my good-byes. Then I went back to Plug-Inn Hostel. I am thankful for my time here. I’ve made a lot of connections with people, some of whom I’ve forgotten to write about in my journal: my long-term memory is so much better than my short-term, that sometimes I remember things better 6 months to a year later than I did right after an experience. I still have more to say about my trip. Well, that’s something. Maybe I can even blog about it.

Salut !

Images of Paris metro train and metro doors by Can Stock Photo. All other images by Elsa L. Fridl.

The 284 steps inside the Arc de Triomphe are probably not for the faint of heart, but there are places to stand aside and rest.

Sunday. A lot of attractions are free today. Unfortunately, it’s cold and rainy…the type of cold that seeps into your bones. I took the metro to Champs-Elysees, mostly to go to the top of the Arc de Triomphe. I took pictures all around it and while I was on the top level. I happened to get there just before a crowd came (which I saw on my way out). The lift was broken, so I had to walk up a lot of stairs in a very winding staircase – I thought I heard someone say there are 222 steps to get to the top – but hostel staff told me there are 284. While the width of the staircase was small, there were occasional landings where you can step aside and rest while allowing others to pass; as someone who studied design, I found that design detail impressive. Sometimes it has seemed to me that designers and architects forget much-needed details, like having spaces for people to catch their breath on staircases while not holding up people behind them. There were exhibits in the Arc de Triomphe on military uniforms and aspects of the monument’s design. There was also a shop for souvenirs. I people-watched for a bit: I love seeing the joy on people’s faces as they investigate Parisian sights.

After I took plenty of pictures (and had a couple taken of me), I was so cold I had to leave. I didn’t want to. I went to the McDonald’s on the Champs-Elysees to use the restroom, and took some more pictures until my fingers were too frozen to handle the camera. It might have been the coldest day of the trip. Funny enough, I was feeling so frozen, I decided to take a couple of pictures of Queen Elsa.

I headed back to the hostel and grabbed a Grand Marnier crepe on my way. It was hard to eat with frozen fingers, but I managed. (!)

Queen Elsa on the Champs-Elysees. It was so cold when I was there, I’m sure she felt right at home.

Salut !

Images of Ferris Wheel at the Place de la Concorde and McDonald’s by Can Stock Photo. Image of Arc de Triomphe staircase by Wally Gobetz, Flickr, CCBY 2.0. All other images by Elsa L. Fridl.

Information on the Arc de Triomphe taken from Wikipedia article, “Arc de Triomphe,” retrieved July 26, 2015.

European cities at night via satellite. It is an easy “day trip” (or night!) to London from Paris.

Friday. I woke up feeling fairly rested though my eyes were bloodshot: there’s probably mold in the hotel.

I showered, shampooed and got dressed. Then I set out for my free breakfast in the hotel. There were at least 20 people in the dining room, though few looked like they had taken a shower already. The place felt rather seedy, especially when I saw lecherous eyes look my way. I sat down at a table that wobbled, so I moved to another. One of the women working in the kitchen came into the dining room and basically asked me if I was crazy for sitting at a table for three when I was alone: “Sit somewhere else,” she told me, eyes blazing. Nothing like making paying customers want to come back! Breakfast consisted of white bread toast, butter and jam, weak coffee or tea, cheap cornflakes. It wasn’t very satisfying or particularly nutritious, but it was something to eat until I could get a piece of fruit. I tried to enjoy my breakfast at the wobbly table as I thought about the day ahead.

I went back to my room and wrote out two placards (which I had packed, rolled up, in my new French suitcase) to take with me to Buckingham Palace. After finishing them, I finished packing and did a sweep of the room to make sure I didn’t forget anything; then I walked down the 8 flights of stairs. I asked the manager if I could leave my luggage in the lobby while I was out. He said no problem, which was nice of him. I felt like my bags would be safe. Of course, having locks on my important stuff helped with my piece of mind.

I did a little sightseeing on my way to Buckingham Palace…..

Then I held my breath and showed up at the Palace. I held up one of my signs, which essentially told Queen Elizabeth II to leave me and my family alone. Some young woman (from Ireland?) came over and asked if she could take a picture of me and my sign: “Of course,” was my response. I had been there for about 30 minutes or so when a Palace police officer came over and started asking me questions. I told him that in the States, protesting is a right, and besides, I’ve seen other people protesting at the Palace. He basically told me that if the Queen doesn’t want people protesting right outside her residence, she was within her rights to shoo them away. Then he told me I was free to protest outside the gold and black gate, yet he also continued to try to ask me questions, like where was I staying. I said, “You just said I’m free to leave and that I can protest outside the gate, am I right?” He said that was correct. “Good, I’m leaving now,” I said, and walked away without looking back. I wasn’t trying to cause an international incident: I just wanted to stand up for my family name.

I stood at the corner he directed me to for about an hour. After I felt I had made my point, I left. It was drizzling. I went to St. James’s Park and took some pictures. Then I went to Inn the Park restaurant and warmed up, having some coffee and a dessert. It felt like a modern-day log cabin with cool lighting (and stiff seats). After I left, I threw out my placards in the trash bin near the restaurant. I felt like I had made my point. After seeing Palace police mill about as soon as I showed up, I couldn’t wait to get back to France, where I belong.

I went back to the hotel to retrieve my luggage, and thanked the management of The Continental Hotel for their service. Their hotel may not be the best, but they treated me okay, so all in all it wasn’t a horrible experience to stay at their hotel. I hope they….how shall I say?….do a little redecorating.

Victoria Coach Station was dark and cold, with almost no place to sit or stand.

I made my way to the bus station with a light rain falling. It was absolutely freezing in the bus station. People who worked there told me they had to leave the doors open (to the buses), even though no one was boarding. I went to wait in another part of the station. I struck up a conversation with an English woman who seemed nice enough, but she started asking me questions that were none of her business, like whether I owned the house I was living in, how could I afford to take this trip, and do I have money to get home. I wanted to tell her to bugger off. I wondered who was more tactless: the Englishman who was determined to get on The Tube sooner than me, and basically pushed me out of the way, or this woman, who wouldn’t know what boundaries are if they bit her on the nose? Ahh, travelling. You meet so many kinds.

I decided to que up in line since it was nearing boarding time (finally!). A guy behind me spoke to me, and he came to understand I had only been in London for 24 hours. He asked me which country I liked better: I told him, hands down, nothing beats France. I was hoping to sit next to him just to know I would be sitting next to someone friendly, but we boarded too late to be seated next to one another. I ended up sitting behind a couple who seemed to enjoy the idea they were giving me and others a show with their French kissing. They did it so much I felt like a voyeur. I completely get that many people aren’t hung up on showing a little Public Display of Affection, but it can get to a point where you want to say, “Get a room, already!” Some people behind me where shaking their heads and smiling: they knew what I was thinking.

We arrived at the ferry and were told to remember where we had parked. (I had to laugh: they made it sound like we were parked in a mall.) The inside of the ferry was nicely appointed, with leather and other types of seating, and places to buy something to eat and drink, though I was much too tired to do either. The young people (hehhehhehheh) were all so excited, many of them drank and ate and whooped it up. No thanks. Like many others, I curled up on a sofa for the trip, which was over before I knew it. I couldn’t believe how trashed the ferry as we were exiting: it was worse than any New Year’s Eve party I had ever been to. I felt groggy when I first got up but then adrenaline kicked in: I couldn’t find my bus. Someone seemed to know which one I was looking for and helped me find my way to it.

I was much relieved when I started to see signs in French again while on the bus back to Paris.

As the bus drove into Paris I and I saw signs in French again, I was so relieved. Nothing beats France. I felt like I had been in enemy territory in London (though I have no beef with British people in general, only with the Queen), and now I’m back “home.” The bus let us off at a bus station that was a bit of a walk to a metro station, but I couldn’t care a less. I was SO GLAD to be back in Paris. I got back to the hostel in no time. I ate my delicious French breakfast and went to bed, happy that I had made my point.

Salut !

Images of European cities at night and bus back to Paris by Can Stock Photo. Image of Victoria Coach Station by xjy, Flickr, CCBY 2.0. All other images by Elsa L. Fridl

A sandwich similar to my homemade French version.

Saturday. I went grocery shopping, and I continue to be amazed at much produce I can buy for so few euros. While I was in the kitchenette making my homemade French sandwich, I excused myself when I burped even though I was alone, because that’s what my mother taught me to do: she said someone might be in the next room, and you wouldn’t want them thinking you were unmannerly. It was so funny…a chamber maid heard me excuse myself and came in and looked around mock-suspiciously for another person, as if to say: “Are you crazy? There’s no one else here!” I had someone tell her what my mother taught me. She laughed and smiled a weary smile, as though she were saying to herself, “Vive la difference!” (long live differences).

Spontaneously dancing on the metro with rappers was the most fun I had on this Paris trip.

I took my sandwich and left to go roller blading. Before I got off the metro on my way there, a few guys got on blaring loud music from a boombox, and they were rapping in French. I could tell from people’s body language that a lot of people disapproved of them. The next thing I knew, they played a song that sounded like a Sly & the Family Stone song from the 1970s, and I got up and danced with them. We were gyrating (a little, in a way my mother would approve) and whooping it up. People on the metro car started to cheer us on. It felt so good to see that many people who looked uncomfortable at first got in the spirit of the moment when I joined the rappers. One handsome bystander in particular smiled at me and gave the guys money. It was the most fun I’ve had during the entire trip. The guys and I all thanked each other. I got off the train saying, “Americans can boogey!”

I looked for the place that rents roller blades but I didn’t find it; honestly, I didn’t look for long, really. I walked along the Seine River, but from where I was, I didn’t see any distinctive photo possibilities. It was a gorgeous day, mild, unlike late-fall weather at home, so I walked all day. I walked aimlessly at first until I came upon signs for St. Sulpice Church. St. Sulpice was featured in The Da Vinci Code. (!) Yes, I enjoy sites of Paris for the sites themselves, but there is an added thrill to see sites featured in movies. (I love the cinema, plays, and opera.) Though a part of me thinks the main story was sacrilegious, certain aspects of it were fact-based, and if I look at it as merely entertainment value, it was a good story. The movie certainly made me want to see St. Sulpice for myself. It was beautiful, and…how else can I describe it? Serene, elegant, classic. I didn’t feel a heaviness I often feel in such churches; instead, I felt light.

Some of the other pictures I took:

I had wanted to go dancing later at a nearby disco but I got an upset stomach. How (in)convenient. I organized myself into the new room with 2 roommates (sisters from Brazil). They both seem nice and easy-going.

Salut !

Image of sandwich and dancers by Can Stock Photo. All other images by Elsa L. Fridl.