The Grand Tour III: All Roads Lead To Rome

Like the cultured young gentlemen centuries before, our Grand Tour ended in Rome. The idea was that  exposure to the great works of antiquity and the Renaissance would give these gentlemen the polish they needed before moving in society. So after five days in sunny Dubrovnik we boarded a night ferry and traveled across the Adriatic to Bari in order to get some polish.

Since it was the low season only one ferry company was running and because we booked our tickets  just three days in advance we ended up with seats on the deck instead of a cabin. I think the ten hour bus ride may actually have been more comfortable because there weren't immovable armrests between each seat and we weren't kept awake and then woken up by super loud Italians roughly my parents age who were partying next to us. FYI: no one wants to hear A Whiter Shade of Pale being blasted from your iPhone at 6 in the morning, old Italian guy. Eventually it was time to get off the boat and find some much needed coffee. We took a bus to the train station in Bari that was driven by one of the handsomest men I've ever seen in real life. That's Italy for you--even the bus drivers are hot. 

Our train wasn't leaving for a few hours so we parked it in a cafe for some espresso and cornettos, which are like Italian croissants. All through the trip my cousin Katie had been talking about the coffee in Italy and how amazing it is. Now, I'm not saying I didn't believe her, because I did. I just didn't know what that actually meant. I see that now. I had coffee and espresso in every country I went to and while none of it was bad per se (with the exception of the instant coffee topped with cool whip we had on the train in Budapest) none of it was this good. Like the croissant I had from Stohrer in Paris, this cappuccino was on an entirely different level I didn't even know existed. And they all tasted that good. Everywhere we went! Ugh. I can't talk about it anymore because it's making me sad just to think about.

Moving on. As we progressed through our trip proximity to the train station became increasingly important because it just made things a lot less complicated. Thus, when I started looking for our hotel in Rome I only considered places within walking distance of the Roma Termini, the city's main train station. I feel like I should mention that I used Booking.com for most of our reservations because they seemed to list more independent and family-run places than say, Hotels.com. I usually then cross-checked potential places with TripAdvisor just to make extra sure the place was legit.

Rome is pricey, like Paris pricey--but unlike Paris my hotel wasn't free. I ended up finding a budget hotel for $37 per person per night. Of course, calling what we stayed in a 'hotel' might be stretching it but our room was clean, had three beds, and a private bathroom. It certainly wasn't located in the nicest neighborhood and at night it looked downright sketchy, but the worst thing that happened was some creepy guy said 'I love you' when I walked by and really, creepy guys saying 'I love you' can happen anywhere. 

So after a few hours on the train we arrived in Rome very excited, but also tired and hungry. We all needed some cash so we went to an atm on our way to the hotel. This is when The Bad Thing happened. Katie went first and got her cash then I went. The way the atms work there is they give you your card back and then your cash, except my card got stuck in the card slot. I could see it there but I couldn't grab it. Naturally, I started to panic and pressed on it thinking the machine would spit it back out again more forcefully. This didn't happen. Nothing happened. My card went back in and then the machine stopped working. No money, no card. Oh, it was also around 6 pm so the bank itself was closed for the day.

Next to the bank was some kind of auto parts store, or maybe it was an auto club like AAA--I don't know, I don't speak Italian. Anyways, my cousin asked a man who was working there to come help us and he was even more handsome than the bus driver from earlier. Unfortunately, he didn't have any better luck so he suggested we come back the following day. I felt completely helpless, but there was nothing we could do at that point so I mostly focused on not freaking out. I bring up this whole situation because it was a good learning experience.

I had tried to go to the atm earlier in the day when we were in Bari, but my card wasn't working there. Why, I don't know. Perhaps the universe wanted me to have this terrible experience so I could share it with you. So, here it is: If you're using an atm, try to use one attached to an actual bank that is open in case your card gets eaten before you can get your cash. The best (worst) part is that the transaction still showed up on my bank account. I got my card back the next day but the very unhelpful bank manager basically said it wasn't his bank's problem and that I needed to take it up with my bank. When I got home I explained the whole situation to my bank and they filed a dispute and comped me the money. That was almost two months ago and I haven't heard anything, so I'm guessing it all worked out in the end.

But, back to my first day in Rome. After checking into the hotel we went for dinner at Sapori e Delizie, a lovely neighborhood pizzeria I found using TripAdvisor's Rome city app. TripAdvisor has a bunch of these free apps for different cities and they were so helpful to us during our travels. Not only did we find great places to eat but the Point Me There feature was invaluable. And it works even if you don't have a phone plan or wi-fi! I only wish I had realized that sooner than Vienna...

By this point I hadn't had a beer since Oktoberfest but given the day's events a giant Peroni was looking pretty great. We ordered a few pizzas along with arancini, fried zucchini flowers, and grilled vegetables. Everything was delicious and cheap--my favorites. I know I said earlier that Rome was on par with Paris price-wise, and in a lot of ways it is, but I think it's cheaper to have a great meal in Rome than in Paris because some of the best Italian food tends to be made from less expensive ingredients. Pizza, pasta, and vegetables aren't terribly expensive. Duck confit is. This place also had a delish spicy olive oil that I am still desperately trying to recreate here at home.

We only had three full days in the eternal city, but that was enough time to hit all the major tourist spots. We spent a day touring the Vatican museums (if you go on Wednesday during the Papal Audience it isn't as crowded) and getting pushed around St. Peter's Basilica. The museums are actually a collection of 54 art galleries and pontifical museums culminating with the Sistine chapel. It is a huge and impressive collection of art that rivals (if not surpasses) the Louvre. In particular, I think the experience of seeing the Sistine chapel was much more satisfying than seeing the Mona Lisa.

The Basilica itself is beautiful but verrrrry ornate. Gold and marble everywhere. It was a bit of a shock after spending time in the more *ahem* austere churches of England and Germany. What I'm saying is...I can see why the Reformation happened.

We then hiked up to the top of the Duomo, which was about as high as St. Paul's but an easier climb and not as scary as the Golden Gallery. I yelled at some obnoxious guy trying to sell us tickets which felt weird since we were right in front of the Vatican, but it was the only thing that got him to stop. On reflection, I did a lot of yelling in Rome. The street vendors are relentless.

When we visited the Spanish Steps vendors were everywhere hocking these little squishy balls that would splat on the ground and then reform. They also made this almost mournful noise, like a broken squeezebox, so in my mind my visit to the Spanish Steps is accompanied by a chorus of dying musical instruments. In addition, there are also guys trying to sell you roses and when you say no they then try to hand you one like it's a gift or something, but don't take it! This also resulted in me having to yell again. Here is a candid photo of me after the 50th guy tried to give me a flower:

I realize that so far it sounds like I didn't really like Rome, but that's not true at all. Right after this photo was taken we went to the Keats-Shelley House which is beside the Spanish Steps. A visit here seemed quite fitting since I had visited his home in Hampstead months before and kind of made the whole trip come full circle. There we learned all about the Romantics and their connection to Rome and even saw the room where John Keats tragically died at just 25 from tuberculosis.

We also toured the Colosseum and the Roman Forum where I developed a new obsession with the Vestal Virgins and learned that people don't like it when you go around yelling 'Are you not entertained??' Man, remember when Russell Crowe was bad-ass and hot? Those were the days.

As I'm writing this I'm realizing something: I could go on and on about all the places we visited and the foods we ate, but to be honest we did what everyone does when they go to Rome: we ate, we drank, we saw everything one is supposed to see--not exactly breaking the mold. But even still, it was magical.  I can see why the traditional Grand Tour ended in Rome because it really does live up to the hype. Even the annoying bits, and boy were there a lot, didn't take away from the experience. Rome is an easy and fun place to visit. Everyone pretty much speaks English and they aren't dicks about it like the French. The food is delicious, the weather was great, and the whole city really does have this relaxed 'La Dolce Vita' vibe that is infectious.

But for me Rome was also the end of the road. 

After three months abroad this was my final stop before heading home--the culmination of a year spent first on meticulous planning and then on traveling. By this point I was exhausted and looking forward to plopping on the couch for a while, but at the same time I was scared about returning home and going back to 'real life'. I had seen so much and got used to spending my days exploring the wonders of Europe. I didn't want to lose that excitement, that enthusiasm on my return.

I think you learn more about yourself when you travel than you do about the places you visit and looking back I'm not sure I knew what I wanted to get out of this trip when I first left. I think I had some vague hope about going away and having everything change for the better while I was on the road and in a lot of ways it did, but not how I expected. I didn't come back with a book deal or a dream job--nothing external. Instead, the changes I experienced were emotional. I learned things about myself and what I am capable of because that is what travel does. So to merely talk about what I saw and did and ate doesn't really tell you about my experience in Rome. What I want is for you to go out and experience something that truly moves you, changes you in some fundamental way. 

I've been home for nearly two months now and it hasn't been easy. There's a kind of depression that settles over you after returning from a big trip like this one. It's strange because even though I feel like I've changed, home still seems the same as when I left. There's a bit of a disconnect initially and getting over that involves going back to the way things were. I suppose that's partly why writing these last few posts have been so difficult because it means it's really over. Everyone keeps asking me what my next trip is but I honestly don't know. I want to figure out how to be content at home first before I go away again. 

The Grand Tour Part 1: Oktoberfest, Prague, and Vienna

Nothing can be more unpresuming than this little volume. It contains the account of some desultory visits by a party of young people to scenes which are now so familiar to our countrymen, that few facts relating to them can be expected to have escaped the many more experienced and exact observers, who have sent their journals to the press--The Shelleys, History of a Six Weeks Tour

The Grand Tour has its roots in the 1600s, when wealthy young Englishmen recently graduated from Oxbridge would travel though Europe to get a cultural education in classical antiquity and the Renaissance. It also attracted artists and writers who sought to learn from the Old Masters in both arts and letters. With the invention of the steam engine in 1825, the practice extended to the middle class and by the end of the century it was even common for young women to make the trek. The traditional itinerary varied a bit depending on which countries were in style, but one always began in England and ended in Rome. Of course, I am neither rich nor a gentle(wo)man but even still, I figured I could use a little cultural polish. I had been to England, sure, but before this trip I hadn't traveled much in Europe aside from a weekend in Belgium. The great thing about traveling the world is that you can finally see what everyone has been talking about through your own lens. Some wonders will disappoint, while others will move you in unexpected ways, but in the end it is an experience that belongs solely to you.   

My personal journey began in London and then it was on to Paris followed by Munich where I was joined by two of my cousins for a train ride through the rest of Europe. Over the course of 21 days we travelled from Munich to Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Dubrovnik, and Rome. We each bought a Eurail Global pass, which is good for 10 days of travel within two months and includes 24 countries. It is also expensive and if you are over 26 you have to buy a first class ticket.  We bought this ticket because of the flexibility, but if you have a set itinery it is worth your time to price out the individual tickets to see if you'll actually save money.

Something else to consider: not all trains are equal. Our train from Vienna to Budapest was lovely--wide leather seats, complimentary wifi, snacks, etc--however, this was also our shortest journey by a lot (2 1/2 hours). The rest of the trains we took weren't anything special and often not that much different from second class. However, on most trains (except Italy)  a first class ticket gaurantees you a seat on the train even if you don't have a reservation. So, again, this ticket gave us maximum flexibility. It was one less thing for us to worry about while on the road. 

A first class ticket also meant we could hang out in this schmancy lounge for a couple hours in Vienna and have as many lattes and glass-bottled orange juices as we wanted. Additionally, all Eurail pass carriers get discounts on various activities and some times even free public transportation in certain cities, like Munich and Vienna. In Rome we were even able to use one of our travel days on the express train to the airport, so I suppose it really was worth it in the end. 

As for the actual traveling, yes it's nice to take the train, but only when you are literally in the act of travel--that is, sitting in your seat enjoying a glass of wine (the wine is necessary). Otherwise, it still involves all the  other bits that make travel a nightmare. Yet, because you don't have to go through security it has retained more of an air of romance than, say, the airplane. Because of our itinerary there were times when we were traveling all day (and night) so even though our journey was roughly three weeks, it still felt like we were whizzing through countries at an impossibly fast clip. It was just a taste, really. 

So, in keeping with that here are some moments from the first part of the Grand Tour:

Munich, or more specifically Oktoberfest, was a sea of beer, lederhosen, and dirndls. Seriously, this is not an exaggeration. Everyone wears them. Luckily, they sell them at the train station so you can pick one up if you want to fit in. I wore my dirndl again when I got home for Halloween, so I think I got my money's worth.

We went to Oktoberfest twice during our four days in Munich. During our first visit we got there at 10:30 am on a weekday but by that time all of the tents were full. The outside tables were mostly empty though so we sat down and ordered a round of 'Lemonade', which is beer mixed with Sprite. It's pretty gross but you can have a couple and not get completely hammered. An hour later even the outside was packed but we made some German friends and learned from them that in order to make it inside, you have to get there very early and wait in line. Reserving a table inside can cost thousands of dollars but it is free to sit there during the day.

A day later we forced ourselves to get up at 6 am to try to get inside. We reached the fairgrounds close to 7:30 but by then every tent already had a huge line. Even still, we managed to make it into the Augustiner-Festhalle tent, which looked like a set from "A Very Hobbit Christmas". I later learned that this tent is known for being the friendliest. Indeed it was, though I suppose everyone gets a little friendly after a few liters of beer.

I booked a lovely apartment in the suburb of Gilching through Airbnb. It was about 30 minutes from the Oktoberfest grounds but proved to be a peaceful oasis away from the crowds.

Between all the singing, cheering, drinking, and pork products I felt like I needed a vacation after Oktoberfest. I'm glad I went, but I'm not sure I ever need to go again.

In Prague we stayed in an apartment about five minutes walking distance from the main square, which is an architectural delight in a city full of them. We walked to the top of the Old Town Hall, which also houses the famous Astronomical Clock, to take in this marvelous view.

A trip to Prague wouldn't be complete without a stroll (or five) across the Charles bridge, which features artists, vendors, musicians, and street performers along with 30 statues of saints and patron saints.

We also learned about the history of the city during a visit to Prague Castle, situated on a hill above the city. It was the home of the kings of Bohemia and the Holy Roman Emperors. Good King Wencesclas, the subject of everyone's favorite Christmas carol, and Maria Therese, the grandmother of Europe, both lived there (during different centuries, of course).

In keeping with my earlier tradition in London and Paris, we took a sunset river cruise along the Vitava. I may have been with family, but not gonna lie. It was pretty romantic.

After we got our fill of Old Bohemia we were off to Vienna, 'the wedding cake of Europe', named for its many beautiful white buildings.

It is also known as the City of Music because prodigies like Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, and Strauss (among many others) all lived and worked here. Indeed, you can hear music everywhere. One of the highlights was walking through St. Stephen's Cathedral while an orchestra and choir performed Lacrimosa from Mozart's Requiem, one of my all-time favorites.

We stayed in a pension, a step between a hostel and a hotel, on a lovely street in the city center.  There weren't very many cars about and most people seemed to be either on foot or on bikes, which gave the streets a more relaxing feel. Not much of the same kind of hustle and bustle you get in other cities.

Vienna is famous for its cafes and our trip to the beautiful Cafe Central was a highlight. We were waited on by the most formal/bordering on snooty manchild I have ever seen. He was tall and skinny with the face of a 14-year-old, yet he was the most graceful and impeccable waiter I've ever had.

While there I had this chocolate raspberry deliciousness and a cappuccino which, at that point in my life, was the best I had ever had. But that was before Italy.

You can't go to Vienna and not visit one of the Hapsburg palaces. We chose Schonbrunn, the summer residence, because the palace and gardens are a UNESCO World Heritage site. There's also a labyrinth:

Labyrinths sound cool until you're wandering around one on a cold, rainy fall day with the beginnings of a fever. Then they are definitely NOT COOL.

We also made the trek to Beethoven's grave in the city's Central Cemetery and finally found it after looking for an hour.  Fellow composers Brahms, Schubert, and Strauss are also buried in the area known as Composer's Corner.

My dedication to food markets has been well documented on this blog, so it should come as no surprise that we spent an afternoon wandering around the Naschmarkt, the city's most popular market.

I was expecting Vienna to be pricey but really, nothing seemed that expensive after London. It's not cheap, for sure, but everything seemed to be pretty reasonable. Prague, however, was not as cheap as I was expecting. My cousin Katie had been there seven years earlier and said that the place was definitely more expensive than she remembered, and a bit more upmarket too. Again, it's still cheap for  Europe and in terms of value, it's high since the city is beautiful and remarkably well-preserved. I'm not sure if I'll ever return to any of these places unless it's in combination with some other destination. As part of the Grand Tour, certainly. I'm glad I went and enjoyed my time there but I can't really see myself getting on a plane and spending a week in just Prague or Vienna any time soon. Not when there's still so many other places to explore.

Part Two will pick up in Budapest!

Turning 29 In Paris

I've been trying to write this post for a week. Once again I've felt completely overwhelmed by the task of condensing my experience into one pithy post. Paris is especially difficult because, well, it isn't exactly some 'off the beaten path' destination. People certainly know it and, as I've found out, have pretty well-formed ideas about the place--especially if they've never been there.

I didn't encounter this as much when I talked about London, apart from cracks about the weather and warm beer. (For the record, the beer is not warm dummies. It just isn't ice cold.) But Paris was different: "Were the French rude?" "How was the food?" "Was it really that romantic?" Even if you've never stepped foot there, you're probably walking around with some detailed, preconceived notion of what Paris is in your head. Consequently, it's a city that we expect to meet these impossible demands--whether those expectations come from Les Miserables, Madeline, Midnight In Paris, or A Moveable Feast--and when it falls short, we claim to be disappointed.

Paris is a living, breathing city. It exists outside of these portrayals. So, were the French rude? No, not especially. I've dealt with much ruder people here in the states. Was the food good? Some of it was exquisite and some of it was crap. Was it romantic? Well, I'll get to that.

Like Paris, I can't meet all of your expectations. I'm sure there are more thorough posts about '15 ways to save money' and 'top ten things you must do' while in the city. But the one thing I can do is talk about this, my first trip to Paris. So, lets pick up where we left off: in London. 

After nearly two months in England it was time for me to say goodbye. As always, it was bittersweet. However, the next destination was an exciting one: Paris. I had planned our trip to deliberately coincide with my birthday in an effort to distract myself from the pains of turning 29. It's hard to feel sad about your fading youth and the inevitable march towards mortality when you're stuffing yourself with baguettes, right?

Now, normally I'm not one of those people who gets all mopey around their birthday. I spent my last several birthdays like most people--stumbling around in a dank bar surrounded by friends and family. And while I firmly believe that age is nothing but a number, turning 29 is kind of tough because it's nearly 30 and if pop culture has taught me anything it's that once a woman turns 30 she can become three things: Someone's Wife, Someone's Mother, or an Old Shrew--and if you aren't either of the first two, it's only a matter of time before they run you out of town. So, in a bid to escape the ever encroaching spectre of death, we hopped on the Eurostar and headed towards the City of Lights.

Thanks to some well-planned travel hacking (see here for an excellent how-to) I managed to score us a free hotel room at the 5-star Hotel de Louvre--a Hyatt property in the first arrondissement next to, you guessed it, the Louvre. We were on the top floor with a balcony that offered us this amazing view. It was pretty tiny though. I'm also kind of afraid of heights, so I didn't spend a ton of time out there. Still, gazing down on the Rue de Rivoli from a five-star hotel room was not a life experience I ever expected to have. 

Despite our good fortune, I'll admit that I felt a bit underprepared for Paris, at least when compared to the level of detail I had dedicated to London, the Peak District, and Bronte Country. Also, six days may sound like a lot of time, but for a city like Paris we really only scratched the surface. Exhausted from our marathon tour of London and still smarting from the pound, our pace was slower here. The language barrier also made us less adventurous. Every day I would wake up and think "I'm in Paris!" This would immediately be followed by the realization that this meant I had to speak French.

My French is not very good. If you've been reading this blog since the beginning, you may remember a lot of early posts dedicated to France. For a brief window of time in 2010 I almost moved to Paris to be some rich people's nanny. I began studying French daily and even met up to practice the language with other French people. Then, for reasons I never learned, the whole thing fell apart.

Since then, the only bits I managed to retain were what I refer to as "Bar French". This means that I can read a menu pretty well and order from it. Basically, I know 'Hello', 'Goodbye', 'My name is Emily', 'I will have the onion soup/crossiant/cheese plate/duck confit', numbers 1-10, and a small scattering of words and phrases. The Bar French came in handy, for sure, but I lacked confidence. People seemed to appreciate the effort though. I mean, if you're going to go to a foreign country you can at least learn how to say 'hello', 'please may I have', and 'thank you' in their language. It's common courtesy. Still, I saw a number of American tourists speaking English for even the most basic exchanges.  Can you imagine the reaction in the U.S. if a foreign tourist came here and couldn't even say 'Hi, can I have a slice of pizza?' People would flip out.

My bar French may have been decidedly lacking, but at least I gave it a shot. Maybe that's why no one was really rude to us. Sure, many Parisians seemed a bit aloof, but some were outright friendly. Of course, if you're expecting every shopkeeper or bartender to fall all over themselves just because you're an American then, well, I suppose you're the type of person who has to deal with disappointment often. As David Sedaris puts it in Me Talk Pretty One Day "To my knowledge, [the French have] never said they're better than us; they've just never said we're the best. Big deal."

For me, Paris was a city of contrasts. You can have a perfect moment strolling across the Pont des Arts in the golden light of early evening listening to someone play the accordion. Then you turn a corner and the smell of urine will hit you in the face and you'll see a crazy bum snapping his shirt like a whip at passersby. Or you can be on the surprisingly rundown metro (which reminded me of NYC's subway system in the 80s) only to walk above ground and come upon a brass band rocking out to Gangster's Paradise.

There's a mix of beauty and grit--and none of the tourist handholding we found in London. They don't have thousands of signs all over the city telling you which way to the Arc de Triumph or the Louvre and when you do find signs they are only in French. I suppose it demands more of the visitor, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but because of this I didn't find it to be a particularly romantic place. We were too consumed with trying to navigate the streets. But that's ok. I didn't come to Paris for romance. I mostly came for the food. 

Namely, I was interested in exploring the neighborhood food markets, of which Paris has many. So we planned our days around seeing a couple of sites and visiting a market at some point. The cafes in our part of town were very overpriced so we stayed away, opting instead for more of our London-style picnics. Of course, supermarkets aren't really a thing in Paris so we did as the Parisians do: We would either shop at the markets or visit the individual shops for cheese, fruit, cured meat, baguettes, and surprisingly cheap, yet always delicious wine. Then we would take it all back to our hotel room and have an indoor picnic. 

After our third day we found out that one of the best baguettes in town could be had around the corner from our hotel at Eric Keyser, an artisanal bakery.  Sometimes for breakfast we'd grab a crossiant and a coffee there and then sit by the Louvre and people watch. Like London, if I go back again I'd want to rent an apartment for the convenience of a kitchen. Cooking in Paris would be a dream thanks to all of the wonderful markets. I also really want a rotisserie chicken. You can find them in nearly every market and they're just one of those Paris 'things' you have to try. James shot me down every time because we were always in the middle of wandering around and, yeah, maybe I technically didn't have any utensils back at the hotel, but whatever. I would have made it work.

Something that doesn't require utensils though? Pain au chocolat. The tastiest, flakiest, butteriest (that's a word) I had was from Stohrer, which bills itself as the oldest pastry shop in Paris, and is also Queen Elizabeth's favorite. I tried plenty of others and really, it's hard to have a bad pain au chocolat in Paris, but this one took it to a level I didn't even know existed. This also marked the beginning of my '1-crossiant-a-day' diet that lasted all throughout Europe. Don't look at me like that. I regret nothing.

I tore myself away from pain au chocolat long enough to try some of Laduree's famous macaroons. I know macaroons were supposed to usurp cupcakes as the next 'it' dessert (though it looks like cake pops are giving them a run for their money). But really, these treats are so different. We shouldn't pit them against each other, but instead indulge in them equally. Well, except cake pops. I mean, come on. Why is that a thing?

I may not have had a roast chicken but I did have a delicious duck confit for my lovely birthday meal at Ma Salle a Manger, a low-key little neighborhood bistro where the food is classic, simple and cooked to perfection. It can be hard to have a great meal at a reasonable price in Paris so this place was a wonderful find.

As for touristy stuff, we hit most of the major points. We visited the Effiel tower, but decided not to waste three hours waiting in line to get to the top. We realized later that you can buy tickets in advance online but by that time they were sold out for days. Oh well.

We spent half a day wandering around the Louvre, though seeing the Mona Lisa was marred by the hoards of tourists trying to take selfies with it in the background (don't take selfies with the Mona Lisa). The museum itself is in the former Louvre Palace and was home to French royals until the Sun King, Louis XIV left to build Versailles, but his penchant for excess is all over the Apollo room.

One can even see the crown jewels of Louis XV and the apartments of Napoleon III, so the Louvre is an interesting mix of art, architecture, and French history.

Another half day was spent at the Musee d'Orsay, which has the largest collection of Impressionist art in the world. It's housed in a beautiful old train station that was built during the turn of the century, so even if you're not into Monet the building alone is worth the price of admission.

After visiting Notre Dame a stop at the nearby Shakespeare and Company bookstore was a must. I'm also fairly certain I saw Eric Idle milling about outside. I didn't have my glasses on and James said no way, but even still, I want to believe. 

As was the case in London, taking a site-seeing cruise on the Siene was a highlight. We timed it so that we were cruising during sunset and, looking back, I'd say that was pretty friggin' romantic. 

We also made it out to Monmartre for a day, a neighborhood named for the hill it sits atop, which was the heart of old bohemian Paris around the turn of the century and home to many famous artists. Now it's where you can find the famous (infamous?) Moulin Rouge as well as a number of sex shops. Of course, in keeping with that idea of contrasts I mentioned earlier, it is also the site of the Basilica of the Sacre Coeur--

--along with some incredible views of Paris.

Then we popped by Cafe des 2 Moulins where Amelie, everyone's favorite gamine, works but she wasn't in.

One of the stranger things we did was visit the catacombs underneath Paris, which contain the remains of over 6 million people. The history of the catacombs is fascinating but walking through those darkened tunnels gives you a sobering perspective on your own insignificance within the history of humanity. Or maybe I was just having a minor existential crisis. 

We also visited several parks, including the Jardin des Tuileries, which were lovely but a bit too manicured for my tastes. I missed the wild forests and open spaces of London's parks. But, to each his own.

In the end, Paris was the right choice for this birthday. It is a city that makes one feel like a mature, cultured person. Sure, you can go there in your early 20s and have a great time. But between the food, the museums, the language, and a certain je ne sais quoi, it seems like a place best appreciated by those who have lived a little bit. Would I go back again? Absolutely. There's still so much we didn't get to do: the Rodin museum, the Pere-Lachaise cemetery, Boulangerie Poilane--the list goes on. But this trip was still a good introduction to one of the world's greatest cities.