Someone smart once said “the day begins the night before.” Actually, no one smart ever said that, but it was on the insert of Chicago-shock-jock Mancow’s first CD, Box of Sharpies, back from the mid-90s when he was still funny. Anyway, if you would like to judge yesterday by this morning (aching feet and a hangover), good things are happening over here in the city of lights.

View from Montparnasse

When planning this trip, I wasn’t even going to sleep in Paris, jumping instead on the first train out of town for somewhere a little more provincial. But I’m glad I decided to stick around for a few days, as my once-jaded perspective of the city has changed. After writing my post yesterday, I walked down to the Montparnasse area, where there is a high-rise building with a panoramic viewing deck. The view from 59 floors up was majestic, even though Paris lacks much of a skyline. It was cool to see hundreds of randomly arranged five-story buildings, each with their own courtyard; many probably housing a “Grec Café” or a Fromager or whatever.

After that, I took the Metro to the École Militaire area to see Rue Cler, a supposed piece of history in the middle of the French Capital. According to Rick Steves, the shop owners on this pedestrian-only street (one car squeaked by with many evil stares from the audience) have manned the same storefronts for generations… one could argue (well, at least Rick tries to) that it is Paris at its most Parisian. It was nice, although a bit out of the way.

I whipped together a small dinner, purchased at my clean and frigid local Franprix market: bread, 99-cent camembert, a can of salade niçoise (I highly recommend this über-cheap flavor sensation of tuna, potatoes, olives, tomatoes and herbs), tomato juice and yogurt. After eating, I fell asleep for a good two-hour power nap.

La Tour at night

Last night’s group was in the Young & Happy hostel lobby and they were going out, so I grabbed a shirt and headed out for another night of craziness. After picking up our beverages… for me, two tall boys (the same 1664 stuff from the previous night, which, by the way, is 5.9% alcohol — not bad), we hopped the Métro for La Tour Eiffel. Drinking outside anywhere is always great, and the conversation was interesting. Among us: three Americans, three Canadians, an Aussie and a girl from Singapore. We hit a few bars on the way home, including a tiny neighborhood pub (no tourists here) where we sang with the locals and choked back 4-euro glasses of French beer. I wound up sliding into bed around 3:30, a full 90 minutes past the hostel’s curfew. Sweet!

This morning I was a little worried that there would be nothing to do, as it is Sunday, and to the best of my memory, Paris — and all of Europe — shuts down on Sundays. I was delighted to find windy little Rue Mouffetard packed with shoppers and a bustling outdoor market. There was a theater troupe doing their little singing/dancing/acting thing and a folk band a bit down the street. I put together a picnic lunch: fresh bread, potent camembert, a couple tomatoes and a few egg rolls, picked up from an Asian deli. I also saw an interesting can of paté made out of pigeon; I might have to try that when I am in Provence… perhaps an entry out of the it’s-canned-so-it-can’t-kill-me department.

Rue Mouffetard market

So why the revelation when I used to think I hated Paris? Having now spent two full days on my own, seeing a few sights and people-watching, I will now declare Paris one of my favorite cities for walking. And that’s what I like to do… walking. Previous trips here (two with parents, one with school) involved sitting in traffic, whether rental car or bus. This time, no traffic — no sweat. It’s rare to find a city where you can walk for eight hours in consistent delight and never see the same storefront (”Gallery Kevorkian”… yikes!) twice.

So I’m here and I’m having a blast, but tomorrow I leave. I will head to Rennes, the capital of Britanny, but only for one night. Then it is off to Lorient, a fishing village on the coast. Bon Dimanche!