The western facade of Notre Dame de Paris.

Sunday. I got up early, ate breakfast, and left for Mass at Notre Dame. The line to get in was so long! Like a rock concert! It was a beautiful Mass, but the schedule I have says it was supposed to be in English; it wasn’t. It felt good to be in God’s House. There were a lot of people there from all over the world. People were turning around as if they wanted to watch the organ playing. I sat as close to the front as I could. Just before the service started, someone came and told me to pick up my bag so it wouldn’t be in the way. (I wanted to ask, In the way of what?) I took some pictures outside of Notre Dame and milled about for a while. It was so peaceful I hated to leave. At the back of Notre Dame there were a couple of machines to buy souvenir coins of the church. I believe I know two people who might like one so I bought a couple.

I then went to the Latin Quarter where there was a lot of activity. Especially on a Sunday, many people had the same idea. There are so many interesting shops and restaurants and bistros and bakeries….you can’t see them all during one trip. A few restaurateurs beckoned me to try their restaurant as I walked by. I just smiled and said, “Bonjour!” After walking a lot, I went to Shakespeare and Company……what a place!  It was so cozy; one could read for hours there, there are so many nooks and crannies and old chairs to sit in. I found a pocket book on French for English speakers. I chatted with the cashier who said she was originally from England. I told her how much I love Paris and would like to stay. She said that since she lives in the EU it is easier to get a Visa to stay in Paris.

It was very cold today – too cold to wear just a cape. (I forgot to pick up my coat at the dry cleaner’s.) I hurriedly went to a café and had French Onion soup and 2 espressos; the French Onion soup was the best I’ve ever had (she says, nonchalantly). There, I met an American ex-pat who was having lunch with a friend; she told me she would probably never return to the States, she loves being in Paris that much. We talked about current political situations in France and the States. She said she doesn’t miss all of the drama of the U.S. press, which we both agreed loves to rehash a story over and over and over again, which France decidedly does not do, much to our delight.

Since it was so cold and I didn’t have my heavy coat, I decided to go back to the hostel. I found out I could move back to my favorite room (!), so I did. I reorganized yet again. I read more of Elvis: My Best Man. I’m so glad I decided to read it, because I’m learning the truth of what Elvis was really like. In addition, it has been brought home to me even more how the press can ruin a person’s character, which I believe now often happens because it makes for a good story. How horrible. I worked out for a short while. I’ll read for a few more minutes and call it a night.

Salut !

The King, Elvis Presley. May he rest in peace.

Image of Latin Quarter, Shakespeare and Company, and coffee signs by Can Stock Photo. Image of Elvis Presley by Luiz Fernando Reis, courtesy of Flickr, CCBY 2.0. All other images by Elsa L. Fridl.

A Paris park that divides two sides of a street. Similar parks have more grass. You will often find public toilets in such parks.

Friday. I took my purple coat to be dry cleaned: I had another crepe with Grand Marnier and the cook put too much filling in it. As soon as I took a bite, it went all over the front of my coat. Which means I have to have my coat dry cleaned again! I wonder what the dry cleaner is going to think about me having to bring it back…that I’m a clumsy American? Not the impression I wanted to make here. Gee, I can’t wait to face the Madame at the dry cleaner again.

My purple coat with black trim served me well in Paris during autumn. It was warm and just a bit dressy.

I also was told by Plug-Inn management I would have to move to another room tomorrow because a group of 5 is coming, and they want to stay together. Management isn’t sure how long they’ll be here.

I went walking and felt very feminine in my new cape. I took some pictures and simply took in my surroundings. I don’t feel the need to “do” something every moment; just being in Paris is enough.

A statue of Charles de Gaulle. Described as a “20th century John of Arc,” he refused to admit defeat by the Nazis in WW II. He escaped to London after the Nazi invasion where he gave inspirational radio speeches. He later became President of France.

Salut !

Reference of Charles de Gaulle as a “20th century John of Arc” taken from Rick Steves’ Paris 2014 guide book, Copyright 2013, Avalon Travel, Berkeley, California, pg. 249.

All images by Elsa L. Fridl.

Wednesday. I woke up feeling happy. I savored breakfast, had a shower, and simply started to walk. I walked for a mile or two taking pictures and enjoying the moment; and, once again, I followed signs and walked to Champs-Elysees, where I spent just a moment in Sephora to see how much Dior Skin costs. I found a cape I like at a nearby shop…oh my goodness…since working at Garfinckel’s (my store!), I’ve had a secret, life-long desire to buy a cape in Paris! I’ll have to think about it.

I ducked into McDonald’s to use the bathroom. Sometimes I feel a little like George Costanza, always knowing and thinking about where the public restrooms are. I was tired from walking again. I thought long and hard about whether I should buy the cape while I was on my way back to the hostel. I was too tired to exercise.

It pays to know where the McDonald’s restaurants are in Paris since they have public restrooms.

Salut !

Photographer image by Can Stock Photo. McDonald’s image on the Champs-Elysees by Shunsuke Kobayashi, Flickr, CCBY 2.0.

Abbesses Metro entrance. Most metro entrances have an awning in Art Deco style, such as this one.

Tuesday. I had a great day today. I ended up making the chamber maid happy for stripping the bed of a roommate’s who had checked out. Then I went to Grand Boulevards Metro using different Metro lines I’ve taken so far to go to Hard Rock Cafe. It was so funny, I asked the guy at the desk for directions, and he told me to go to Abbesses Metro (the other close-by metro; I’ve always taken Blanche) and then follow signs to keep walking, that I would be essentially walking to another metro station, though never leaving underground. He also said he almost hated to tell me that because he didn’t want me to get confused. I looked at the metro map, looked at him, then back at the map, and told him, “Okay, but if I don’t come back, please send a search party for me because I’m probably lost underground somewhere.” And I just started to laugh. He looked concerned, which made it all the funnier. I couldn’t get over it: I think of myself as an intrepid traveler and then I balk at walking underground for an extended time. Who am I kidding?

Paris Metro has many more twists and turns underground than the metro in Washington, D.C.

I found Hard Rock Café without any trouble. I couldn’t wait to have a burger lunch. I thought I might get faster service by sitting in the bar area; I was mistaken, for they messed up my order. The inside was gorgeous, and the seating beckoned patrons to sit and enjoy themselves. But as I ate my hamburger and took in the ambiance, I realized I am a lot older than I used to be. When I was younger, going to Hard Rock Café was all the rage (and getting a T-shirt with “Hard Rock Café Paris” and the like, to go with it). But I didn’t feel the same way about it: instead of hearing familiar rock and roll in the background, I heard hard rock blasting in my ears. Hard rock videos played all around the place and I found myself feeling a little out of place. Not a bad thing: it’s okay to realize I’ve changed. It just took me by surprise. I bought a T-shirt before I left since I no longer have my Hard Rock Café Paris shirt that I bought the last time I was in Paris. I also took a few pictures of the exterior.

The Hard Rock Cafe in Paris has an unmistakable exterior and a beautiful interior to go with it.

From there, I just started to walk, and since I saw signs to Charles de Gaulle Etoille, a.k.a. Champs-Elysees, I kept walking. Paris during the day is beautiful, but at night, it is simply breathtaking. I ducked into the Galeries Lafayette just to window shop. The interior design of the place and the seasonal decorations were simply breathtakingly beautiful. I just stood in this massive space and took in the beauty of my surroundings. The French do everything with such style and class. Such beauty makes me glad to be alive. Do the French people know how extraordinarily beautiful their surroundings are? When you live here, do you take it for granted? I don’t think I ever would.

A Christmas decoration at the Galeries Lafayette.

I bought a few magnets of rue signs at sidewalk kiosks. I told Nicdadya about my adventures and how gorgeous the Galeries Lafayette were. She just smiled. I’m tired from walking, and very, very happy – especially since I found my way back to the hostel without any trouble. They won’t have to send a search party for me tonight after all!

Salut!

Abbesses Metro image by Can Stock Photo. All other images by Elsa L. Fridl.

Monday. I had a tough time waking and getting up. Walking really takes a lot out of me…but it’s not like I don’t walk at home. It took me forever to get out of the hostel. I didn’t do all that much. But I did work out again. Felt good.

I am really enjoying this book on Elvis by George Klein (which I found in the hostel. Really says something about Elvis’s popularity in Europe, which many Americans forget). George was a friend of Elvis and a member of his entourage, as well as a radio personality in his own right. I’ve learned a lot about Elvis. He wasn’t as weird as I was led to believe. The media slanted stories and made him out to be odd. One example was his interest in karate. He learned karate while he was in the Army and it was merely a form of exercise he enjoyed: the media made it sound like he was obsessed with martial arts – I remember those stories well from when I was growing up. George told his story with class. One reason I studied public relations instead of journalistic reporting when I studied journalism at the University of Maryland is because I don’t have the stomach to go after people and report everything about them; I believe that every person has a right to some privacy. I also believe in the truth. If someone has done 2 wrong things, that is no reason to blame them for a third if they had nothing to do with it.

Elvis will always be the king of Rock-n-roll.

There’s no class in slanting stories just to ruin someone’s reputation – or for any reason, for that matter. I have more respect for Elvis than I did prior to reading George Klein’s book. But I have even more respect for George Klein. He was a true friend to Elvis.

Salut !

Lazy day image by Can Stock Photo. “Elvis knew the score,” by Anonymous9000, taken on October 5, 2008, courtesy of Flickr, CCBY 2.0