Paris Trip - Tuesday: Notre Dame and Ille de Cite (+ 8 desserts!)

Tuesday morning I woke up at 6:00 am, in Paris. (Just had to add the "in Paris" part because it sounds so amazing!) Back home I try to continue sleeping after the hubby rousts around and gets up, but I am usually out of bed by 7:15. It would have been nice to sleep in on vacation, but my body had other plans! I started the "eternal drip" that was the French coffee maker and threw open the windows. It was the nicest start to the day to be able to do that. It was also a test to see just how chilly it was outside.

I had the pain au chocolate for breakfast that I bought the night before. Parisian puff pastry is the most buttery, flaky bit of scrumptiousness. You wouldn't think that basically a croissant with bits of chopped chocolate inside would be a revelation, but at the first bite I just sat and chewed and stared at it in appreciation. The little notebook with the girl striding off to see the world is where I consolidated all the years of research and planning that  you may recognize from Paris Trip Preparations . It was the perfect size for the front pocket of my purse and it went with me everywhere. In it were all the places I wanted to visit, the days and times they were open, the address, and any history that I found interesting. We would often be walking up to a spot and Andrea would say, "Okay, so tell me about this one." With a dramatic clearing of the throat I would whip out my trusty notebook and regal her with the wonders of that particular place. History is so amazing! 

"A walk about Paris will provide lessons in history, beauty, and in the point of life." ~Thomas Jefferson

(Oh, look, a great door! :)

On this particular day, Notre Dame was my long awaited destination. We walked down our street of Rue St Antoine, which then becomes St Paul, then becomes Rue de Rivoli. When we got to the section that was St Paul, we saw a building we had been looking for. Remember on our very first night when the young man had said that if we went straight, and then turned, we would come to a building, "a beautiful building." He was right. It was the the church of St Paul-St Louis. It became a beloved landmark for us and we simply called it the Beautiful Building.

This bushy bearded man was in front of us had been early morning shopping. He had several bags and a pull cart with three beautiful bouquets. Andy and I joked that either he had three separate sweethearts, or he had been very, very naughty ;)

We walked further and the street became Rue de Rivoli. And someone had a sense of humor about it... 

We turned left onto Rue de Lobau and we taken by the gorgeous edifice that is the Hotel de Ville. This is the back of the building. It takes an entire city block or more, blocks were of any size they wanted in Paris.

 Don't you just love the little round windows at the very peak of the roof? And in all my up-close pictures there are windows open to let in the breeze. Not a screen in sight...

 These statues are dedicated to Beau Arts, Sciences, and Lettres. I want to lean out one of the open windows and pat one of their chubby thighs.

See the man in shades that looks like a secret service kinda guy? Well, the de Ville is the seat of the Mayor of Paris. They're not gonna let just anyone in. I'm going to give you the history of the site when we come back from our trip and see the front of the building, which is equally impressive, if that's possible. And on toward Notre Dame!

 Have you noticed yet that all the doorknobs are smack-dab in the middle of the door, just like a Hobbit house? None of the doorknobs I grabbed worked (turned), they were just for pushing or pulling. In-ter-esting...

We went over Pont (bridge) d'Arcole. (There are 37 ponts/bridges in Paris.) This is the bridge that leads straight to the cathedral.

My great desire was to climb the Notre Dame tower. My cousin and his wife did on their trip and I saw pictures of the magnificent view and how they were eye-to-eye with the gargoyles. It was 400 steps to the top, but I was ready. I wanted to do that first, while we were fresh, and before there was a long line. It turned out the upper level of the tower was closed for restoration. But we were at one of the most iconic churches in the world, how could I be too saddened? So we got into line. It snaked around three times and I thought it would take forever, but it went super quick. It even gave us time to find the Point Zero marker. That is the place from which all distances in Paris are measured. Here's Andy, at the very heart of the city, if you will.

It's supposed to be good luck to leave a coin there, so I brought an American quarter to deposit, hoping some French child would find it and be delighted at their "foreign" treasure.

Waiting also gave us the time to be able to really look at the facade of the building. 

You could literally sit on your heiney with a pair of binoculars for a year and not really take in every single carving. And that is just the front.

 See the line of statues that bisect the building? They are the 28 Kings of Judah, starting with David. During the Revolution the common people thought that they were French kings. Think about it, they attended mass in a language they couldn't understand. Even they didn't know all the symbolism of the church. These people declared, "Off with their heads!" A local school teacher rescued the heads and buried them in his backyard to keep them safe. They weren't found again until 1977!!

 There are three beautiful arches, but I only know the story of one. The center arch shows the Last Judgment. Jesus sits on the throne, Mary is to his right in a crown. Beneath his feet is an angel with a set of scales, weighing souls. On the other side of the scales is a terrifying rendition of Satan, pushing down on the scale to tip it in his favor. Beside him is a demon who has shackled the souls doomed for hell. But look at the the carvings around and beneath...I have no idea what they all symbolize. See what I mean about being able to look at it for ages?

One of my very favorite sculptures was beside the far left arch. I pointed out the statue of the man holding his head to Andrea. I had read about St Denys, and there he was. Denys was a priest when Paris was still a Roman village, and he brought so many people to Christ that the Romans condemned him to death. Two soldiers led him toward what is now Montmartre, to the highest point. Remember the church of Sacre Coeur from Monday? That's the hill. These soldiers got tired of walking (it's a big hill), and so they chopped his head off before they got to the top. St Denys was having none of it, and he picked up his head and carried it the last last couple of miles himself. So most of the statues you see of him, he's toting it like a bag of taters. (Is it my imagination, or are the angels on either side looking at the head like they wished somebody would do something with it?) But under those statues are what I really love. Look at all the little critters that someone had fun making.

My favorite. Poor guy has a flea behind the ear and his buddy the parrot won't even help out.

Finally, we were to the great door and ready to enter. Remember how I was a bit sad when I knew I wasn't going up in the tower? Well, we walked inside to a sound like angels singing. Every time I think about it the hair on my arms stands up with goosebumps. I looked around, thinking they were playing music over a speaker. We took a few more steps in and I had a clear view of the altar and the Notre Dame choir. Their voices lifted so high and clear that it rang up, up into the flying arches  over 100 feet above us. 

It lasted perhaps a minute, but they were magical. And as suddenly as it reached my ears, it was gone. If we had climbed the tower, if we had lingered to admire the exterior even one more moment, I would have missed a memory that I will treasure forever.

The interior of the church was gorgeously alight with the colors of stained glass windows in every wall. The small alcoves down the sides were dedicated to different saints, and might have a statue or paintings of their life. I love that even the stained glass windows could be opened to let in the breeze. Who knew?

I was very impressed with the quiet and respectful air of the people who visited. It was an architectural wonder, a historic treasure, but there was no doubting that it was still primarily a place of worship. I even saw people taking communion as we passed.

When we had made the round of the church, Andrea and I quietly sat in chairs near the back. You did not have to wonder if God's presence was there. I am not a Catholic, but I feel we can worship in any church. I was moved to tears in a place that had touched people's lives for almost 1700 years.

Afterward we went out onto Pont Archeveche for a full sized view of the church. Magnificent, isn't it? But I want you to look at it with my eyes. Imagine you live in a small medieval village called Paris. You feel called to build a church, not just any church, but a church that is the closest you can possibly come to something that would glorify God. In the year 1163, you begin. You and your mate are common people, but at the end of a day of tiring work to feed and care for your family, you volunteer your time to the church. You help to haul massive stones from quarries, you help to dig trenches 30 feet deep for a foundation with nothing but shovels and a bucket. You use your strength to tread a wheel that would slowly lift the great stones into place. They say that the real hunchbacks of Notre Dame were the workers who crippled themselves to build it. And did they get to worship in the church? No. They continued to build for 200 years, each successive generation building so that their children's grandchildren might someday sit in the church they had built, a true sacrifice for their Lord. Now stop and think. How many of us want to give our time at the end of a busy work day to just clean the church, or weed the flower beds? When I look at Notre Dame I don't see a wonder of architecture, I see centuries of hope and faith layered between every stone like mortar, begging us to feel what they felt. I hope you can see it that way also.

Directly behind the church is the Memorial de la Deportation, a tiny museum dedicated to the French victims of Nazi concentration camps. When you enter there is a circle on the floor that reads, "They went to the end of the earth and did not return." There is a hallway there that is illuminated with 200,000 crystals, one for each of the citizens who died. 

Behind the walls is dirt from each of the concentration camps. Above, on the wall, it reads, "Dedicated to the living memory of the 200,000 French deportees shrouded by the night and the fog, exterminated in the Nazi concentration camps."  It was a sobering but wonderful memorial with a parting message of hopefulness- "Forgive, but never forget."

As we left, we retraced our steps down d'Arcole to the many food places we had passed. Andrea and I had earmarked one for our lunch.

Andrea was interested in the burgers in their own little wooden baskets nesting on chunks of roasted potatoes. I was staring at the rhubarb tart in front of them. You see that green sign on the wall? That means they won Paris's coveted award for best bread in 2015. The winner receives 4000 euro and has the honor of supplying the bread to the French President for one year. Yeah, it's HUGE.

 We took our goodies to the Seine and ate on the wall, picnicking like real Parisians.

 I had a nice little bun with bacon and cheese in it and I ate almost half...

 Then I had a Paris Brest. This was choux pastry much like an eclair, but filled with caramel creme and topped with chopped hazelnuts. It was good, but all I could do was compare it to my St Honore of the day before.

 This little beauty is called a Goeblin. That makes me think of nasty little things like Gremlins. But this was named after a place, and very, very lovely.

 It was a pasty crust topped with a rich chocolate mousse that had a thin layer of chocolate sponge cake in the center (note the lovely little tuft of it perching on the top as decor?). Then it was coated in a dark chocolate glaze. Yes. Just yes.

 I also had to have a slice of the rhubarb pistachio tart. I wasn't sure how the pistachios would be in a cake.

 They made them into a delightful bright green nut-paste that was absolutely delicious with the tart rhubarb and currants. There was even a scattering of almonds. They just couldn't stop when they were making it so mice. This was a really good dessert.

So we had sustenance to continue walking. We crossed the Pont Au Double and made our way to Square Viviani and the oldest tree in Paris. It is a false acacia tree that was the first of its kind in Paris. It is affectionately called Robinier, after the man who planted it in 1602. He has giant stilts to prop up his aching limbs after all these years.

I had intended to give that old tree a big smooch for making it all those years, but they had put up a fairly recent fence to keep all the puckering lips off of him. I still got to wish him well.

We went out of the park and I glanced down a side street and what did I see?

A picture that's on a million Pinterest pages. I had to do a little happy squeal. They are supposed to have Paris's best cream puffs- in fact, that's all they do. The name is adorable, but every time I see it I can't help but think of the animated movie, The Swan Princess. When the animals were trying to get the prince to recognize the princess, the frog kept croaking, "Odette, Odette, Odette." I'm probably the only one that grins at that.

And here I am grinning again, like a possum, because the sweet little French girl said my hair was pretty. Imagine that! Then nothing could be done but buy two cream puffs, one creme caramel, and one fruit du bois (fruit of the wood), that turned out to be raspberry. They were nice, but I was still a little full from lunch.

We turned onto Rue du Petit Pont. This was the main road during Roman times. Chariots would race in and out of the capital's heart on the very ground beneath our feet.

At an intersection to the street was St. Severin church. It is so squat compared to all the soaring churches of Paris, it made me think of something from Arabian Nights. But the real draw was that the gargoyles were down at human levels.

 Just two old friends, discussing the weather.

Andrea took this picture of a rose growing against a cafe with the church behind. Isn't it gorgeous?

We managed to meander back onto Boulevard St Micheal, through some tiny alleys hanging with hams and filled with minute neighborhood cafes. We crossed the pont back onto the Ile (island). Here was Square St Micheal, the place we had lunch the day before. And here is the impressive statue of the archangel throwing Satan down to earth.

We walked on past the Conciergerie, a giant building that encompasses a church, St Chapelle. This building was primarily a prison. One of the towers was called "The Babbler" because people walking along the river could hear the gibbering of the prisoners who were being tortured.

The golden gate at an entrance.

During the French Revolution, Marie Antoinette was kept here. She was separated from her 10 year old son, and her husband, King Louis XVI, had already been beheaded. At 4:00 in the morning on October the 16th (my birthday), 1793, the queen was placed in a cart that would take her to Place de la Concorde (more on that on a later day) to be beheaded.

At one of it's corners is the oldest clock in all Paris. Installed around 1370, it was still keeping time. You don't realize its size until you look to the side and see that it spans almost two floors of the building.

We left the Ille by way of Pont au Change. We crossed the street and found the Victory Statue in Place du Chatelet, a public square. The sphinxes at the base were to commemorate Napoleon's victory in Egypt.

Right behind this as we walked, we could see this amazing tower jut up above the trees. Turns out it is Tour St Jacques, the only tower left of a church that was destroyed during the Revolution. 

 It had some really unique gargoyles. This one looks like a winged lion with a cowlick.

We continued along Avenue Victoria and came to the Hotel de Ville, this time from the front. The de Ville has been the seat of government since 1357. It was once the site of executions, including the burning of witches. There is a famous photo of the right wing of the de Ville with Charles de Gaul standing at the window to proclaim the city's liberation from the Nazi occupation. To this day it contains the offices of the mayor of Paris.

There is a little of everything on it- sphinxes, knights in armor, reclining ladies, naked cherubs...

We continued on down the quay till we came to Rue St Paul. Yes, I talked about us visiting this street on Monday. We had to go back, and more of the shops were open. I told you that I was going to do a whole post on that street, but I will give you one taste...

We thoroughly enjoyed that short little street and then returned back to apartment for our afternoon rest. Andrea and I agreed, that was what saved us on our trip. It refreshed us so much that we were ready to walk miles again each evening.

I call this the Romeo and Juliet door, simply because I can...

And out we went again on our Rue St Antoine. We went to a small grocery and got three kinds of hard sausage for our supper- they were miniatures of the ones you saw hanging in the windows of the meat shops. One was au natural, one was covered in a whitened rind, the last was a orangish-red chorizzo that was twisted on both ends. I didn't get a picture, but they were very good, and we had bread and cheese and fruit left over. 

We found a charming children's book shop in our wandering. They were all in French, but some were so wonderful looking that I wrote down names to see if I could find them in English.

There is something there called a MonoPrix and we thought it was a grocery. Turns out it is sort of like our Target, only tinier and much more fun. Andrea found assorted chicken items (candles, napkins, plates) for her son's birthday party, and I found a French cupcake set that I couldn't leave behind. 

Finally we stopped at a pastry shop called Manon and I got two desserts and my breakfast.

 The long bar is an Opera, and other is a Bounty. The Opera had layers of delicate cake with coffee buttercream and that thick dark line in the center? That's dark chocolate ganache. Delicious doesn't do it justice.

Here is the Bounty. I can't believe I didn't get a picture of the inside of this one. I was really tired. It was a pastry with a chocolate mousseline filling and a caramel glaze. The base I can only describe as something like if you made a no-bake cookie with coconut instead of oats. It was an amazing mix of tastes and textures. 

Andy had been counting and I consumed eight desserts on Tuesday, if you count my pain au choclate for breakfast, and she did. Notre Dame, beautiful sights, lots of shopping, and eight desserts. It was a very, very good day in Paris!