Finding Our Way Across the Roundabout

This gem comes from the first time I visited Paris with my sister H in 2009.

Upon arriving in Paris at the Gare de Lyon, we hopped in a taxi and went to the hotel to check in and deposit our bags. It was around 7 o’clock once we were settled in, so we headed out to explore and find something to eat for dinner. Our hotel was located only a few blocks away from the Arc de Triomphe, which was naturally the first Paris landmark we stumbled upon. 

This is the street we walked down to get to the Arc de Triomphe.

The Arc de Triomphe was commissioned by Napoleon in 1806 and was a neoclassical interpretation of the triumphal Arch of Constantine in the Roman forum. We have all learned about Napoleon’s lofty aims to take over Europe, and by creating his arch, he solidified his role as emperor, or so he thought (the fact that he hadn’t won the battle was a moot point). The arch was built at the end of the Champs-Elysees, the iconic Parisian street that today is known for its high-end stores and world-class restaurants. The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier (from World War I) rests underneath the center of the arch.

After taking the obligatory tourist pictures of the arch, we started wandering around the roundabout trying to figure out how to get over to the Arc. We saw tourists milling about under the monument…and yet we didn’t see anyone going to or from. People certainly were not crossing the roundabout (it would probably result in sudden death), so we had no idea how to get across. How perplexing.

After walking around for close to 30 minutes, we decided to give up and find something to eat. A young guy in his mid-twenties came up and asked “Excuse me, but do you know how to get across to the arch?” Our problems started all over again.

Now, you learn from the time you’re little that you shouldn’t talk to strangers, especially if you’re a girl in a foreign country. But, Michael was a nice, good-looking Canadian who merely wanted to get over to the Arc on his last night in Paris. We had no choice but to help him. We were also in a well-lit, crowded area, so if he turned out to be a psychopath, we could just scream. So, we joined Michael on his quest by once more walking around the roundabout, only this time, Michael pointed out a staircase we had walked by numerous times and had failed to notice. It led to the arc! Hooray!

We walked down the stairs and in the tunnel that was under the roundabout. At the end, the staircase deposited you right at the base of the Arc. We started taking photos almost immediately. The detail on the interior of the Arc was gorgeous! 

Nice details

We wandered around taking photos and then decided to sit down and people watch. We sat with Michael and started taking photos of the weird tourists and the great view of the Champs Elysees. The Eiffel Tower was visible and at 10 o'clock, it lit up in its usual nighttime fashion. At this point it was still sunny and we didn't realize how late it had gotten. Michael had to take the Metro to the airport for his early morning flight, and we needed to find dinner. Before we left though, we had another tourist snap a photo of us, so we could remember our conquest and how we made our way across the roundabout.

Victory!

Where Are They Now?

My sister H and I went to Paris in May/June 2009. We timed our trip perfectly because it wasn’t quite tourist season and the weather was gorgeous—sunny and 70 degrees each day. We decided to spend our money on attractions, so we ate cheap while we were there; most days we would walk down the street to a little bakery and buy a French baguette, then we’d stop by a cheese shop and get a hunk of cheese to share. We spoke no French and as I remember, the proprietors of the shops didn’t speak English (or if they did, it wasn’t to us). Rather, we pointed to what we wanted and they handed it over. Although it doesn't sound like it, it was all very amicable. We’d eat our lunch of bread and cheese in a park near our hotel, or while walking around the streets of Paris.

One day we were leaving the park by the Eiffel Tower and saw a kiosk full of bikes. These are located throughout the city so you can rent a bicycle, ride to your destination, and return the bike at another kiosk. We decided to ride back to our hotel, which was located on a street off of the Champs Elysees near the Arc de Triomphe. When we tried to check out the bikes though, the automatic card reader wouldn’t accept our credit cards. You couldn’t pay with cash either. We kept trying, with different debit and credit cards, but to no avail. 

At the same time, a couple and their son came up and started trying to get bikes too. We sort of waited around to see if they’d be able to figure out how to work the kiosk. When they were unsuccessful, we walked on and decided that we’d find a restaurant to eat lunch. We settled for a tiny pizza parlor that could barely fit the six tables that were inside. The couple and their son walked in right after us. "We overheard you say this place had pizza, and it sounded good. We aren't stalking you!" they said, as they were seated at the table next to us.

Because of the close nature of the tables, the family was only about 3 inches away from our table. We started talking and learned that the family was from the same town in Colorado where our great aunt lives (small world!). The family was taking an extended vacation throughout the major cities in Europe--Paris, Rome, Madrid, London--in order to figure out where to live next. What? That's right, they were moving from a small town in Colorado to a major city in order for their son, who was seven or eight, to have a better education. I distinctly remember the dad saying "It's time he learn a new language. His mom is fluent in Spanish, and I speak French." Wow, impressive. 

The son was very different from other boys his age. He told us in great detail about everything they had seen and done in Paris. He spoke a lot about his favorite works at the Louvre, which they had visited the day before. Being an art history nerd, I really enjoyed talking about art with that kid. The boy even asked us what we had on our itinerary. How many little kids can participate in a conversation like that with total strangers? As lunch wrapped up, the dad told us that he was an author and had just published a book called Wakeup Call From Mexico. He told us to look out for it, we agreed that we would, and we parted ways down the thin Paris street. 

That was four years ago. I still think about that family from time to time and wonder where they ended up and how their language learning is going. The family as a whole was so enthusiastic about learning, travel and culture; I truly hope they're out there in the world doing and experiencing great things. A couple years ago for H's birthday, I bought her Wakeup Call From Mexico. I doubt she's read it, and maybe she never will, but it's cool to own a book by an author (Wilson Beck in this case) you met while trying to rent a bike in a foreign country. If you're out there Beck family, I hope you're well. 

Perfect weather for a bike ride.

H had her purse in the basket and everything!