From there, we made our way along the Seine past the Musée d’Orsay (a train station turned impressionist / post-impressionist museum):
And, the Louvre:
On our way to the Paris Catacombs:
The Paris Catacombs are part of a much larger network of limestone mines located under the city. The mines operated for centuries before a major sinkhole in 1774 opened up to devour houses, carts and people. This (and several others) lead to creation of Inspection générale des carrières (IGC) (a special group of architects responsible for the inspection, maintenance and repair of the mines).
In 1785, the city’s retired mines were the solution to another problem – over crowded public graveyards, which were gassing out residents.
The bones of over six million Parisians are now in the catacombs:
The bulk of the bones were moved to the catacombs from various city graveyards, which allowed the bones to be thoughtfully placed and organized. Some bones were used to line walls, whereas others created archways and pillars. Regardless of where the bones were placed, many took on a decorative feel:
After the catacombs, we were ready to get above ground and off our feet. After all, there’s always tomorrow…
While you were digging into a turkey, we were wrapping up the Morocco leg of our trip. Yesterday, we made the move back to Paris.
Or, to put it another way – we traded this view:
For this one:
As intense as Marrakech was, Essaouira was wonderfully laid back.
For example, take people passing you on the street. In Marrakech – you had to keep an ear out for motorcycles tearing through the narrow passageways, because they wouldn’t stop as they came within an inch or two of you. Whereas in Essaouira – we rarely saw motorcycles, but if a bicyclist had to pass you around a corner, they’d apologize.
Another example were the street vendors. In Marrakech, walking through the souk or the square at night felt like a gauntlet. Storekeepers and food vendors would block your path in an effort to drive you into their stall. However, in Essaouira, maybe one in five vendors would look up from their phone to acknowledge you. There would be an occasional hard sell, but then I’d ask for a ridiculous transaction (e.g., to sell me a $12 scarf for $4) and then we’d be on our merry way.
We noticed that Essaouira had a European vibe to its streets, which makes sense. (The Medina was designed by European engineers.)
However, there is a distinctly Moroccan flare, even to the street art:
And, the city’s blue fishing boats… These small, but mighty ships feed everyone from locals to tourists, and seagulls to cats:
Now that we’re back in Paris:
We had to say goodbye to Brad and Sarah last night:
While it’s been a busy weekend, we’re excited to explore Paris for a few days.
We’re fine, and nothing ended up happening, but that was likely due to our travel schedule. But, we did experience someone who, as Steve put it, was “very nice, in an almost creepy way.”
I have a long history of getting lost on the Paris metro. It happened when I was here in undergrad, and overwhelmed by all of the train lines, stops, people, etc. It all worked out, but not without the help of a very nice kiosk worker.
Fast forward 24 years, and Steve had a plan to get us from the Gare du Nord train station to our hotel in the 18th arrondissement via metro. Steve was great about navigating us around Amsterdam (and many other cities on other trips), so I had no doubts about his ability to direct us. However, we were having a hard time getting started.
Steve’s directions wanted us to take the 4 train to the 2, but we saw signs for both the 2 and 4 trains at Gare du Nord. We were torn about which train to take, and we hadn’t even purchased our tickets yet.
As we were in line to purchase tickets, a very helpful man in the next line became overly interested in our troubles. Our would be helper didn’t speak English, snd Steve was working hard to use his French to devise a plan.
Our helper walked us from our original ticket line to another ticket machine around the corner that was closer to the train that we’d eventually want to jump on. Then he stood in line with us to buy tickets.
He asked us several questions to better understand how long we would be in town, presumably to help advise us on what tickets to purchase. We were clear about only needing a single ride ticket, which is when he became overly interested in a woman and her teenaged son who were having issues with the ticket vending machine.
This is when it crossed the line from helpful to creepy.
Our good samaritan swooped in to help this other woman. First she was having issues selecting her preferred language, so he took over and drove the transaction in French. He asked her about the length of their stay, and determined they would need a five day pass. Then she had issues using the credit card saved to her smartphone. “Luckily,” he was there with his card to complete the purchase.
From there, he followed her and we were left to buy our tickets.
When all was said and done, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all part of a scam. Once we were settled in to the hotel, I did a little research.
Reddit suggests the scam probably played out a little something like this:
He got the woman to scan in with her ticket and then asked her to reimburse him (in cash). (We already know she wanted a five day pass, and he probably said he got the more expensive all zones passes. So, she’s looking at €114.25 (€76.25 for her ticket and €38 for her son’s).) She pays the train station helper, and he disappears. She’ll discover that all she has are two single use tickets valued at €2.15 each, and has been scammed out of over €100.
Hopefully, this isn’t how the woman’s evening played out. (It probably was.) And, she got to her hotel without further incident. (Seriously, I hope he didn’t take her to an ATM for the cash reimbursement…)
Well, the lesson I learned today is to be wary of overly helpful people.
Scams aside, our evening was pretty uneventful. We grabbed dinner, and went for a walk. We found ourselves in front of Moulin Rouge, so this happened:
Tara’s Adventures 