Archive: Paris 2001
This is to accompany the next entry which I’ll post in the next hour or so, so don’t read it yet :-P I am just posting this directly cut and pasted from the text file I kept over the trip… which I guess was probably on my old Psion organiser lol! So apologies for any TMI, nonsense or whatever, y’know :) I’ve added as many pics as I could salvage… this was pre-digital and for some insane reason I destroyed many original prints so all I have are lo-res scans from this one.
21/03/2001
6am - after a sleepless night, I’m up far too early. I stroll around, going to the toilet every 5 minutes, before finally leaving for the bus.
9am - I get more money exchanged at the bank.
10am - I’m on the bus, headed for London.
3pm-9pm - I actually have no idea how I survived these 6 hours without leaving the vicinity of the bus station. But thank god I did. But I got on the bus to Paris thinking I was going to die. I didn’t stop shaking for an hour. It was cold in London.
6am - arrived at Eurolines bus terminal in Bagnolet. Stepped off the bus and walked through the first door I saw, to find myself in a long smelly corridor lined with homeless people. Heard the Metro in the distance, so walked that way. Found the ticket machine, remembered I had no change, so walked back down the smelly corridor to the shop where I could get change.
7am - after checking I know exactly where to return to the next day to get home, I’m on the Metro, thinking ‘well, I’m already disoriented but at least I’m out of the bus station’. I get off at the second stop, 1)to avoid getting too lost and 2)the stop is Pere Lachaise, home of the cemetery.
7,30am - it’s too early for the cemetery, it opens at 8am. I start eating the biscuits I bought earlier for change, and stroll around the walls of Pere Lachaise, already in awe of its size. I consider the fact that if I had a cowardly fit and decided to go home right now, at least I saw this. I return to the Metro and decide to try making it to the Eiffel tower.
8am - I get off at the first stop whose name I recognise - Place du Concorde. I walk up the steps and now it’s daylight. I’m greeted by a beautiful sight - a giant Ferris wheel, the 3,000 year old Egyptian obelisk, and, in the distance, the Eiffel Tower. I phone home now knowing people will be up.
9am - after trying to walk to the Eiffel tower, getting to the Seine, I realise it’s pointless and decide to do that tomorrow, and return now to the cemetery which will be open. I get on the first Metro I find.
10am - Pere Lachaise. I stayed here a long time… searching for Jim Morrison’s grave. It’s hard, even with a map. After seeing Oliver Stone’s movie, there’s part of me wants to see all the graffiti, even though part of me has heard it was all cleaned off since then… I run into an American who’s looking for the same thing. He spots a bunch of people, we find the tomb but not the graffiti. A little disappointing, I have to admit, but I stared at that grave for quite a while.
11am - I decide to start trying to get my bearings in relation to my hotel, since I can check in at 1pm. I get on the nearest Metro on a different line, and grab a croissant for my brunch. I find myself on the Champs Elysses and take a peak at the Arc du Triumph. I go beneath it but the price to get close to it is stupid so I make for the hotel.
12pm - on my searching through the Metro, I discover how close my hotel is to the Olympia where I’ll see Vanessa. I remember that I’m actually seeing the concert tonight… in only 8 hours, and practically have a fit. This occurs again when I step off the Opera Metro stop, walk down the Blvd. de Capucines, and see the big red sign out front with her name on it. I take pictures, and think to myself, if I have a cowardly fit now and go home, at least I saw this.
1.30pm - after quite a search, I get to the Cadet Metro stop, down the Rue Lafayette, down Rue Richer, down Rue Geoffrey Marie. I walk past the hotel - there’s about 5 in a row and none correspond to the “Hotel de Centre” sign up above, nor to the photograph I saw on the net. Finally, after going into a supermarket and buying cheese, orange juice, and chocolate (hey, you try going into a foreign supermarket and getting what you want), I walk into the hotel. The guy at the desk needs only my name, which semi-freaks me out, and he gives me the key. I get in the elevator, go to my room, and collapse on my bed.
4pm - I wake up. I missed a phonecall from home. I remember the concert and nervously check my watch, half-seriously-expecting it to be 11pm or something. Relieved, I take a shower, turn on the TV (satellite, so British news), and eat. I spot the mini-bar…
7.00pm - relaxed and happy, I leave for the concert.
7.30pm - lots of people at the Olympia already. Queuing for my first concert is damn exciting. About 100 people ask me for a light. I refrain from smoking even in the small alcove, worried I’ll offend an unwilling second-hand smoker.
7.45pm-ish - they let us in. We get frisked etc, I make for the souvenir store, and buy just about everything. I finally find my seat (generous non-comprehending tip to make the usherette go away), sit, and beam joyfully. I’m actually HERE.
8.30pm - The concert begins.
That unmistakable voice spoke over the darkness and a smile spread over my face. I still cannot believe I actually made it to this event - so many times I thought I wouldn’t - so those few words spoken were like the most beautiful rays of sunshine. After the support act, the lights came on again, more waiting… they manage these things with perfection. By the time the lights went down again, I was beginning to convince myself I wasn’t really there - and then the music began, the lights dimmed, a silk sheet covering the stage fell away, and Vanessa a chanté. By the time she reached the front of the stage, I was ecstatic, I mean literally, I was in heaven. I don’t think I took my eyes off the stage from that moment on. A few French phrases failed to translate themselves for me, but of what I understood from her words between songs, I knew this concert was beautiful. “I must appear very small to the people at the back… well, that’s the way I feel standing here,” and before singing an English song, “I’ve tried explaining this song in French before but it was a catastrophe.” I couldn’t pick out a highlight of this experience - the whole thing was one elongated high, unforgettable - but… after her first return to the stage for two songs (including “Bliss”!), and a very long wait in which a few people left and I began to gather my bags, Vanessa returned, seule, and sang “Les Acrobates”, playing the guitar herself. So cool. After that, she made an emotional farewell to the crowd, blowing kisses, and then vanished behind the curtain. Images that will be in my head always. Bliss.
12am - I get back to my room, and literally just stand in silence for about 15 minutes, not wanting to move forward in my life any further just yet, letting the reality of what just happened settle in my mind. I consider opening the half-bottle of Moet in the mini-bar, but fall asleep with a bottle of Carlsberg in my hand.
8.30am - I wake up, shower, tot up my mini-bar bill, pack, and go down to the breakfast room. I’m not comfortable eating in such places, so I grab a mini-baguette and some meat and sit down. Thankfully, a kind waitress offers me coffee, and brings to the table a gigantic pot of the best coffee - ie. the ONLY coffee - I had over these 2 days. I glance through my Paris guidebook and try to figure out just how much I can get done before 2pm.
10am - I’m gone, walking by the Seine towards Notre Dame. I stumble across the Louvre. I walk through, gaze in awe at the glass pyramids, wonder at the size of the museum itself (it’s massive), and move on to Notre Dame, which takes too long to reach. I stare at that for a bit (no time to go in anywhere on this trip), and get on the nearest Metro. One thing to go.
11am - the Metro emerges into daylight - a strange feeling - and I see the tower. An interesting incident occurs when I get off the Metro, when two men stop me and demand to see my ticket. Not looking closely enough at their faces, I try to get past as inconspicuously as possible - in London, homeless people do this, asking for used underground tickets, and I assumed this was a similar situation - suddenly one of the guys jabs me, and I realise he’s wearing a SNCF uniform. I quickly show him my ticket and disappear onto the street.
11.15am - I stay at the Eiffel tower longer than I thought. It’s gigantic, like everything else. I get stopped by an artist who says “you have a modern look, sit down,” to whom I try to explain I have a bus to catch at 2pm. He says, “it’ll take 2 minutes… if you like, you buy, if not, it go in exhibition end of month,” and introduces me to his art professor. I think, what the hell, let’s aid the French arts, and let him go to work. I think he did a good job, and since I had enough money left, I paid him 350FF for the thing. Now I’m broke.
(editor’s note: on reflection it was worth it)
1pm - I’m back at Bagnolet, thank god, a little early, so I smoke a few cigarettes to calm myself, and when I can check in, I do. I stay as close to other English people as possible so as not to go astray, and it’s only when I pass some metallic walling and see the reflection of my Paradis concert T-shirt that I remember last night and smile. I did it!
2pm - the bus leaves, I put my Vanessa CD on.
5pm - we reach Coquelles. I’m thinking “hmm, early?” but then we go through customs. We go through metal detectors, have our bags checked, even a drug dog let loose on us. The dog actually stops at one point, by the bag of a woman in front of me, and sniffs. The woman giggles at the police officer and says, “Pizza,” which for some reason is accepted as a valid excuse, and the dog is pushed onward, leaving me thinking, “Umm… cannabis pizza?”
6pm - finally we’re back in the tunnel, headed back to England (I still laugh when I remember the sign as you enter the Channel Tunnel, pointing North reading “Grande Bretagne”… it’s like “Well, duh!”)
9pm-ish - Back in London. I try in vain to find coffee. I manage to get a burger, but still have way too long to wait. I survive several London homeless people (I make the distinction only because they’re far less polite then French ones), and one man threatening to hi-jack a bus.
11.30pm - the bus leaves. I’m squashed in by a little old lady, and disturbed by a large sweaty man in front of me who immediately begins snoring when the bus’s engine is activated. He doesn’t stop for the whole journey.
4.30pm - I’m home. To bed, to bed.
