Churches, art, red light district, and moldy cheese.

Now for a little clarification before hand, the family I was staying with lived outside of Paris in a small town I can’t pronounce(Ok let’s face it, I can’t pronounce really any of the places that I went to in France). So I was going to have to figure out how to take the bus to the train stop and how to get back. I figured I could do that. Luckily for me, it was all made even easier. Staying with a family was a BYU student who was there teaching the study abroad kids. It is easy to say that Garrett saved my sanity!

The family I was with were great. They were kind and very hospitable to me. At the same time there were definitely language barriers (more so with actually UNDERSTANDING what the other meant. We got the words, but sometimes things were just lost), and also culture barriers. Garrett, being American, was able to help me understand some things about the culture and such that I was able to make it.

Friday night as I am about ready to crash for the lack of energy, the family invites me up to family prayer. I really appreciated that a lot actually. Anyways I go up there and the family is all there and this random guy. He looks at me and says something along the lines of “you must be Rachel”. I can’t be exact, remember I am about to pass out. I am a little confused cause I knew there was a BYU student staying with them, but I never got a name. So I just say “hey…. You…” and that seemed to work well. Anyways, after prayer, Sister Crucy asked Garrett, since he was going into Paris in the morning, if he could help me figure out how to use the bus and train to get there and back. No problem, but he won’t be leaving till about 11. SWEET!!! I get to sleep in!

Sleep in I did! I loved it! Sister Crucy actually was worried about me, and worried I was not going to see all I wanted to see. Apparently she didn’t realize that I had seen just about everything on my list the day before. Oh well. Garrett and I head on our way, and miss the bus. The next one doesn’t come for an hour, and it is like a 45 minute walk, so we decide just to walk it. It is a beautiful day, the sun is shining (first time I had really seen the sun in a long time!), and it is pretty warm. Totally different from my rainy day before.

After a few wrong turns and some entertaining conversations we finally made it to the train station. As it turns out Garrett’s plans had canceled and he offered to take me to the places I wanted to visit that day. Perfect! Not only would I be able to have a real conversation (saying ‘hello’ ‘thank you’ and ‘do you speak English’ to the locals is not what I would consider a real conversation.) but I would have someone there that would be able to answer my random questions and translate when needed.

The first thing we saw was the Love wall. It is just a random wall with love written like 300 different ways and in many different languages. It was rather cute :)


This is right above the Love Wall and says something along the lines of "Love is disorganized, Then love!" or something like that... I forgot the meaning in the translation and only have the literal translation that says "love is the disorder. then love".

From there we went to Sacré-Cœur (which translates to Sacred Heart). It is built at the highest part of the city and quite beautiful. The only flaw I found with this was the stairs. There were so many of them and I was still in pain from the day before. I convinced myself to keep walking up them because if I did, I would be able to get me an extra dessert. Which I did.

The inside was beautiful and I would really love to be one of the people that had access to some of the towers and such. There were a lot of things that you couldn’t really make out from the ground (statues and such) but they probably didn’t let tourists up there for obvious liability reasons. Lame. It was really beautiful, but I had the same problem with this church as I do with most Catholic churches. The creepy statues of Christ that make you fear him. I really don’t like that at all and it makes me sad that they choose to immortalize fear instead of love.

After a few quick pictures (look I am actually in some!!!) we noticed that there was a lot of noise going on at the base so we went to check it out. There were some SICK break dancers. There was one guy called ‘Eddie Murphy’ who claimed to be from LA. This would have been a lot more believable if he didn’t say it with a French accent. Just saying. I still can’t believe the skill level of one of the guys dancing. He was doing a handstand, bouncing with the beat of the music (still on his hands), and then would switch from hand to hand. He was honestly amazing. I enjoyed watching them.




Just a little ways up from the church, there is this section that a lot of artist gather. This area of Paris has been home to painters such as Picasso and Van Gough, and it is still very artistic. There is this section where painters come and paint, and people just buy their stuff then and there. I would LOVE for that to be my job. Just to paint and talk to people from all over the world. What could be better?!




Since we were in the area, we went by the Moulin Rouge (which translates to the red windmill, not all that cool). I was warned not to go there because it was the ‘red light district’. The places I went, I think the worst I saw was a sign that said ‘Lingerie’. I saw worse things on the streets in Seattle. I am sure there are worse places, but not where I went that is for sure.




After that there was only one last thing to see before we moved on. We had to stop by Rachel Ave. Come on! I was in Paris and there was a street with my name on it! Right down from the Moulin Rouge. It made me happy and I rather enjoyed my little street(it was small and ended at the cemetery, but who cares right!?)

(Just to mention, all the other pictures are taken by me, but this one is off the internet. My camera was on the fritz at this point in time sadly.)

Few more trains and a bit more walking, we were at the last tourist place for the night. The Eiffel Tower. Now I mentioned in my earlier blog how disappointed I was by the Eiffel Tower. Just because it didn’t have the magic like I thought it would. When I went back that night, I felt the magic. Every hour they Tower sparkles. It was…. Beautiful doesn’t feel like a strong enough word to explain it. I loved it and now every time I see a picture of the Eiffel Tower, day or night, it is beautiful and magical to me.

There was quite a long line to go up to the top, so we had a while to just sit under the Eiffel Tower and take everything in. I watched, from under the Eiffel Tower, the stars rise over the Field of Mars. Right there above it was the constellation Orion. It was just so… fantastic. There I was, in Paris, looking at the stars and the Eiffel tower at the same time. There listening to the people trying to sell you tourist crap. The jingling of the Eiffel Tower key chains, and the salesmen repeating over and over “one euro” which more sounded like one word ‘oneeuro’. That is the moment I fully fell in love with Paris.

When we finally got to the top of the Tower, the site was phenomenal. The night was perfectly clear and you could see the entire city lit up. This is also when my camera decided it didn’t want to work anymore. Stupid thing! Oh well, this is where my great imagination comes in handy. I will always have that image in my head.

Since it was freezing up there, we didn’t stay for long. I could have stayed up there for hours just looking around. So it was probably a good thing it was cold. Or I would have missed a lot.

As promised, after the Tower, I got my extra dessert I earned from walking all those stairs. A crepe with this amazing chocolaty goodness on it. It was just North from Notre Dame and wow…. That was so good! It is a good thing I don’t live in Paris because I would probably try and live off of those… Which I don’t see being a good idea.

Now up to this point I had only had delicious French food. When I got back to the house that night, I was informed I was going to try French cheeses. Oh dear. The first one was actually really good. Then again it was actually a swiss cheese : ) The second one scared me right off the bat. I have no idea what it was called, but it was in a round container, kinda gooey, and apparently a mild French cheese.
When deciding the best way to eat it I asked Garrett if I eat the outside part, or cut it off like we did the last one. He tells me that he eats it just like that, so go ahead. First bite, there is a little bit of a kick to it, but I think I can handle it. Second bite… The cheese bites back! I was trying so hard not to throw up. I apparently don’t like mold on the edge of my cheese. Imagine that. I manage somehow to eat that bite. Then I start to cut off the edge, which starts Chester (Lior, my friends brother) on how I should just eat it because it is part of the culture. He served his mission in Provo and was saying “You know, the first time I had mashed potatoes and roast beef, I just had to except that and eat it!” and just going off on me. 1- I am not a missionary, and I wont eat things just because I am told to finish them. No way, no how. 2- Potaotes? Really? He is half German, potatoes are eaten by the Germans like no other. Ugh. Oh well. Life goes on right?
That is the end of Saturday. Only one day left the prove how I went to Paris, and I didn’t get kidnapped, sold into prostitution, and/or addicted to drugs.