Christmas Day in Paris (Part 1): Notre Dame and the Toboggans
I awoke Christmas morning feeling so refreshed that I was sure it was mid-afternoon. To my relief and surprise, it was only 9:00 a.m. This woman was walking her dog on the sidewalk below, yelling at him the entire time they passed by my window:
I showered and had breakfast consisting of an omelette, French bread and strong coffee downstairs in the hotel bar. Lingering over the paper in my upholstered booth near the windows, I experienced my first wave of loneliness on this trip, realizing that I was spending Christmas totally alone for the first time in my life. Suddenly, I felt less alone. I noticed the walls of the bar were painted the same washed yellow/orange color as my stairwell at home. My fingers were twirling my hair absently in the same way Dad always said my aunt did as a young girl. The older couple at the corner booth sounded just like my Grammie and her friend Art as they talked over the day's events.
After breakfast, I searched the internet for something special to do, then headed out into the sunshine that had broken through the clouds. It was if I had wrapped myself in these bits of history woven together, which made the sunlit foreign land into which I emerged feel like home.
These photos convey the feeling of the block on which my hotel, the Hotel du Quai Voltaire, is found. A very busy street runs between the hotel and the Seine, and there are several interesting shops and courtyards:
As Notre Dame drew nearer and I passed the Latin Quarter, there were more and more people out walking as well:
The plaza in front of Notre Dame was quite the scene:
People posed for photos with birds, and unknowingly did so with dogs:
Inside the church, the crowds were overwhelming, so I stayed away from the "tourist area" and instead sat down for mass, taking these photos first so as not to disturb the ceremony:
Although I am not a religious person, I adore participating in a Mass delivered in French. Something about the combination of the familiar cadences (known to me--a Methodist--due to my Catholic school upbringing) and the unfamiliar language appeals to me. I sat near a guy who seemed really nice and his mother--they shared their extra program with me. From it, I learned that the night before, the Archbishop presided over the Christmas Eve Midnight Mass. The music, the architecture of this lovely cathedral, the sheer number of folks taking in its beauty, all of these made me think that there must be some mysterious power that permits all of these things to exist . . . but perhaps it is simply the power of the people who care enough to create these things.
After Mass, I headed toward the Hotel de Ville, where hordes of people were hanging out.
They had set up a tiny toboggan run that the kids were loving:
Well, most of them, anyway:
To avoid a frighteningly long post, I'm going to wrap this one up and begin another!
I showered and had breakfast consisting of an omelette, French bread and strong coffee downstairs in the hotel bar. Lingering over the paper in my upholstered booth near the windows, I experienced my first wave of loneliness on this trip, realizing that I was spending Christmas totally alone for the first time in my life. Suddenly, I felt less alone. I noticed the walls of the bar were painted the same washed yellow/orange color as my stairwell at home. My fingers were twirling my hair absently in the same way Dad always said my aunt did as a young girl. The older couple at the corner booth sounded just like my Grammie and her friend Art as they talked over the day's events.
After breakfast, I searched the internet for something special to do, then headed out into the sunshine that had broken through the clouds. It was if I had wrapped myself in these bits of history woven together, which made the sunlit foreign land into which I emerged feel like home.
These photos convey the feeling of the block on which my hotel, the Hotel du Quai Voltaire, is found. A very busy street runs between the hotel and the Seine, and there are several interesting shops and courtyards:
As Notre Dame drew nearer and I passed the Latin Quarter, there were more and more people out walking as well:
The plaza in front of Notre Dame was quite the scene:
People posed for photos with birds, and unknowingly did so with dogs:
Inside the church, the crowds were overwhelming, so I stayed away from the "tourist area" and instead sat down for mass, taking these photos first so as not to disturb the ceremony:
Although I am not a religious person, I adore participating in a Mass delivered in French. Something about the combination of the familiar cadences (known to me--a Methodist--due to my Catholic school upbringing) and the unfamiliar language appeals to me. I sat near a guy who seemed really nice and his mother--they shared their extra program with me. From it, I learned that the night before, the Archbishop presided over the Christmas Eve Midnight Mass. The music, the architecture of this lovely cathedral, the sheer number of folks taking in its beauty, all of these made me think that there must be some mysterious power that permits all of these things to exist . . . but perhaps it is simply the power of the people who care enough to create these things.
After Mass, I headed toward the Hotel de Ville, where hordes of people were hanging out.
They had set up a tiny toboggan run that the kids were loving:
Well, most of them, anyway:
To avoid a frighteningly long post, I'm going to wrap this one up and begin another!
posted by Lisa at 10:10 AM
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