Hello, Paris

it was time to leave Geneva. I encountered an enormously diverse group of people in my few days in this city. My favorite folks were at the Hotel Eden (both staff and guests). The hotel was intimate, with lots of small gathering places both for guests and patrons of their excellent restaurant. I never made it beyond their vegetable salad, which was the perfect lunch or dinner for a super hot day.

This was my favorite hangout. This was last tea in Switzerland.

Based on the suggestions of others, I bought train tickets online. That was the easy part. I wanted to take the TGV straight to Gare de Lyon in Paris, where it would be a short taxi ride to my next hotel. The first problem was that I had to print the tickets. Fortunately, the hotel was willing to do that. I was buying two tickets, one for the Paris leg of the journey and the next for my trip to Macon. Armed with my printed tickets, I arrived at Geneve-Cornavin, the main railway station. There, I was informed that what I had printed was the receipt for the ticket and the draft of the confirmation, but not the ticket itself. According to the attendant, my tickets were invalid. I would have to purchase new ones.

Not happening. I went to the next attendant. She explained that I had not printed the ticket. However, there was a printing service a few doors down (one wonders what their cut is) and they can print the ticket for me. I must say the printshop was super. The gentleman who helped me stopped whatever he was doing and took care of my somewhat frantic self. In ten minutes I had everything I needed and schlepped my self and suitcase back to the station. And then the inevitable happened. The train was delayed.

This is an understatement. At first it was delayed by 20 minutes. Then by an hour and a half. Then it was cancelled. Then we were going to rerouted through Nice. (Why is it always Nice?). Then the train was going to arrive, but it could only hold 300 of the 500 passengers. Oh, and it was 103* on the platform.

A little over two hours later, we were on our way via the original route but on a train so packed I wondered if people were hanging off the sides. The crowd gave up all pretense of finding assigned seats, but I happily found one in la premiere classe. Sort of. The train attendants brought us bottled water at every stop and insisted we drank it all. Unfortunately, it wasn’t spiked. At least, I didn’t notice if it was.

Finally, with much rejoicing, I arrived in the City of Light. It was dark, but Le Gare de Lyon is bright enough to illuminate the night. When I’m on my way to Macon, I hope to have time to do a little photography.

I arrived at the Berkeley Hotel in one soggy piece, and found another super cute little elevator.

It is big enough for two people, or in my case one with a big suitcase. The room was clean and simple, with a nice shower. The beds were uniquely European – two twin beds made up with separate linens but placed side-by-side. They are small by American standards – not intended for someone over 5’8″ . The other tricky part was to remember not to roll over, in case the beds roll apart and you end up in a heap on the floor.

Morning view from my room at Berkeley Hotel.

The next day, Berkeley was gracious enough to hold my luggage while I met up with friends at Sacre Coeur. Let me just say that Paris is a city of hills, and everything is uphill. Both ways. Sacre Coeur is at the top of all of them.

This is the edifice on the highest ground in Paris.

Sacre Coeur looms over the city. While not without beauty, the Basilica has less grace than Notre Dame , for example. Mass is held daily and this is an active parish. The inside is muted for the most part.

Sacre Coeur has a feel of permanence, like a reassuring parent watching over the city. It is solid, staid, and a bit stuffy. It is located in – or more properly – on Montmartre, or Mount of Martyrs. The basilica was built as the result of what is refereed to an “the national vow.” In 1870, France and Germany went to war. France was defeated. It was determined that the cause of the loss (and perhaps of the war too) was not political, but religious. To that end, Cardinal Guibert approved the building of the church as reparation for the sins pf France. Construction began in 1875 and was completed in 1912. Interior work continued until 1914, but the consecration of the church was delayed due to the outbreak of the Great War. Eventually, it was consecrated on October 16, 1919.