Day 56: Sleep is for the Weak, HA!
- Marlena Skrabak
- Aug 4, 2019
- 10 min read
Updated: Aug 21, 2019
My alarm rang out hard and clear, the piercing sound was screaming, "last full day in Paris…" This was it. My entire project creative portion and write-up were turned in around 2am and I had today open for whatever I wanted to do, however I wanted to define my last day in Paris. I was ready to make it one to remember. Putting on my mom’s pink flowery dress, having some of her energy with me as I took on the day, I was ready to go at it alone, at least for the first half. Anna still had to finish up her project, so I was going to head out and do my own thing planning to meet up with her when she finished up.
The first BIGGEST check list item took me to the Franprix right by the apartment. It was still rather early which meant that I was the only customer there amongst all the workers restocking and setting up for the day. Despite feeling watched for how early I was at the grocery store, I am sure that my buying the largest tub of Nutella garnered even more stares. I had to specifically go up to someone to ask them to ring up my most necessary purchase. How could I not!? It would be sacrilegious to go home without the massive jar. Taking the three to four pounder back to my suitcase, I knew I would have to re-weigh and most likely reorganize my packing later to accommodate the big 'ole jar.
That was a problem for later though as I had somewhere I wanted to be in the morning. If you remember correctly, the Monday that Anna and I got back from Croatia, we had to go directly to lecture because we missed the discovery portion, the discovery being the 20e and last arrondissement. Without having visited it, I would be missing out on the last puzzle piece of Paris while also condemning my 20 arrondissements’ photo montage to a life of incompleteness. I made this blog a part of my experience, finding time to write one way or another; it would be disgraceful to not at least finish what I set out to do. I also just genuinely wanted to see Père Lachaise, the one place that I had on my list for this arrondissement that just could not be missed.
Not wanting to be restricted to the monotonous interior of the metro tunnel, I took the bus from Invalides to the cemetery so I could watch the city move around me during my last hours in Paris. I sat behind this couple in the bus who ended up getting off around the Louvre.
Eventually arriving at Père Lachaise, the cool air rustled my dress as I blindly made my way through the graves, monuments of elaborate architecture. I think this was the first time I had ever explored a cemetery alone, looking at all the names on the graves, of families that had been in the ground for years, an eerie concept to genuinely contemplate. Zigzagging my way in and around graves, I ended up discovering Morrison’s, one I remember visiting over 8 years ago. Now there was a barrier that kept people a certain distance away, a theme in attractions nowadays. There were these two girls that were on the other side of the barrier, smoking and expressing with their body language that everyone else did not understand him the way they did. Not to be mean, but I found it a little comical.
Reaching a saturation point, I felt that it was time to head more into the city, by foot of course. My first destination was going to be Blé Sucré to grab a croissant because my croissant-buying time was running out. Walking down with this sense of heaviness due to the fact that I was leaving but also this sense of lightness because I was completely done with all work, I made my way slowly down the street. I allowed myself to be a true wanderer. I ended up walking into an art store, mesmerized by the rows upon rows of materials that I could explore for ages. I ran across a set of different sized pens that would be great for art (and architecture) so I thought I would treat myself to them. I mean, I had been using Anna’s to get may project done, maybe it was time I got my own. Arriving in the 11e and at the bakery, I came face to face with a sign that said they were on vacation for the month of August. Oh, the French. In that moment I realized that leaving in the beginning was the right time. Paris, in August, is not the one of Parisiens. All the inhabitants are away for their weeks off. The city transforms, but I was lucky enough to be in Paris during two summer months that still had the French life. I was also thankful that I had at least gone twice to this bakery. If I had left it for the end, this would have been an even more tragic experience.
With no specific destination in mind, I pulled a Dory on land. Instead of "just keep swimming," I just kept walking. Making my way through Bastille and into the Marais, I found myself by the Centre Pompidou. Seeing a crepe stand in the distance, I knew what I had to do…Nutella and banana (because I have not had banana for over 2 months). With my warm crepe in hand, I sat in the shade of the industrial looking building, engaging in one of my favorite pastimes: people watching. With some sun reaching through the gaps in the trees, I stayed warm in the shade, enjoying the area for the touristic place that it is. After filling myself with fruit, batter, and chocolate, I wandered through the multitude of vintage and thrift stores in the area. Looking at overpriced Levi’s, I was having an absolute blast with no cares in the world. Coming across a used book store, I meandered in, not looking for anything in particular. A little while later, I walked out as the proud owner of two new books that I was looking forward to delving into: La Peste and L’Étranger by Albert Camus.
My walking took me around La Notre-Dame and towards Shakespeare and Company where I decided I needed a coffee to help me get through the day; I was in a constant state of exhaustion…
It was the perfect setting. Outside in the comfortable warmth but in the protection of the shade, my coffee filled my insides as the air ran through my hair. Notre-Dame rose up before me as I started reading La Peste, already hooked.
A British man sat in front of me at the communal table, laughing as he read his magazine. He ended up striking a conversation with me and I found out he had recently quit a post-doc internship at the Institut Pasteur since it felt mechanical and not explorative. For the first time in thirteen years, he was without a job or school. I was nervous about leaving. He was nervous about what he would do in life. I appreciate how sometimes the world throws little experiences our way just to put things into perspective.
After having stayed in that spot a decent amount of time, I made may way towards the Grand Mosquée, one of my most favorite spots in the city. With some perfect mint tea, I sat with my book by the wall, a mix of shade and sun cascading around me, the green of the trees contrasting delicately with the white of the walls. Anna met me there a little while later where we enjoyed some pastries and our classic baklava cigars drenched in honey. It is an experience that is hard to find the words for.
Not wanting to miss the rest of the day that would have light, we made our way to Berthillon, a famous ice cream shop that was on our list. Overpriced? Yes. Too small a scoop? Yes. Really darn good? Yes. My dark chocolate sorbet was doing it for me in all the right ways. Needing to head more towards the Eiffel Tower, we walked along the Seine, watching the little Boutinnistes close up shop. We made a pitstop back at our place to drop off some things and grab some others…it was picnic time. Making sure not to waste too much time in the apartment, we made our way quickly to the Franprix that we used for our first picnic; I cannot say that we were not looking for a little symbolism. Lucking out, they still had some of the chicken legs and potatoes so we HAD to do that. Along with cherry tomatoes, a goaty cheese, some pesto, a red bell pepper, and a strange pea and mint dip, we exhausted all of our desires from the Franprix. Worried that the boulangerie would close as it was getting later, I literally ran down the street, heading into one that was almost completely empty. Thankfully, they still had some darker and denser baguettes left, the ones we wanted. With all of our beautiful food in hand, we walked with A LOT of purpose to the Champ de Mars, so much so that we (Anna and I) were literally sweating. Plopping down pretty close to the big metal structure, we devoured the lovely array of food in front of us. Except for the pea and mint dip. It was just weird. Jacob met up with us a little later and described the taste in order of flavor presence: mint, air, pea. I don’t disagree. Anna and I had tickets up to the top for 21h30 so we had to scoot, but we knew we would see Jacob later. I mean we were about to spend the ENTIRE night together.
It had been 8 years since I had last been to the top of this metal masterpiece, and I was genuinely nervous. If you know me, you know heights are not really may thing. I blame my dad. Just because of my strong hesitation and extreme amount of tingles that encompass my leg region when I get higher in the air, I do not let it stop me from doing things that scare me anyways. Why should I miss out on experiences like these!?
We made it to the second floor where we got to watch the tower sparkle at 22h00. No matter how many times I see it, it stays consistently magical. Getting in line to catch the elevator to the summit, I turned to my side only to come face to face with the couple who had been in front of me in the bus this morning. The world is small and Paris is tiny. That is my final observation.
The elevator up the skinny long tower part made me so uncomfortable, I became instantly aware of my breathing and made sure to focus in on it so as not to truly freak out. There are two levels at the top. One that is acceptable and one that makes my legs turn to jello. The jello inducing one is a little higher up and has the grates so that the wind and air up that high can be felt, putting the experience into a more distinct context the level right below that is completely sealed. Taking some cheesy pictures, being acutely aware of how high up I was, we made our way down. We decided to take the elevator to the mid level and then take stairs the rest of the way down. At this point, I might as well say that my legs no longer existed…
Because we are who we are, we took some very terrible self-timer photos on the rather empty stairs. We have to keep our traditions alive.
Then we busted our butts and made our way back to the apartment to change into pants for the night, because we were not planning on coming back until the morning…
We met up with Owen and Jacob and friends, heading to a Carrefour City too late to get alcohol. Looking back, I am glad we didn’t have anything. I really didn’t need it to have a good time.
We walked along the Seine until we reached our dear beloved Pont Neuf, descending onto the island to spend some quality chatting time. Surrounded by friends, I could not have been happier on my last night. My biggest regret though was not bringing a jacket out with me that evening. We were not sure if we were going to head to a club and didn’t want the extra weight if it ended up happening. The temperatures really did drop though and around 2am, it was quite chilly. Parting ways with Owen, we continued on with the night, grabbing the night bus. The five of us were a good and safe group. Heading towards Bastille, we made our way into this club region that felt SO sleazy it was probably the most uncomfortable I felt in this city. The amount of guys and intoxicated people felt high. I meant, I guess it wasn’t too strange. It was late and this wasn’t Spain.
I decided with the approval of others that the club was not the move. There was also a 20 euro cover charge that I was not about to pay. I didn’t need it to make my night memorable.
Instead we made our way to a 24-hour service cafe that was entirely bumping at 3am with people ordering massive goblets (I am not exaggerating) of beer and steak. I went for a solid hot coco to warm up my very cold body while Anna went all in with a Croque-madame. Spending our time here chatting about everything and nothing until 4am or so, we finally paid and made our way to an apartment where one person in the group was staying. She was calling it for herself because she still had to pack but she was generous enough to lend us sweatshirts to traverse the town in the morn with. So, then there were four and we walked all the way back to Pont Neuf as the cool morning air started to enter our systems. I ended up checking my mileage for this day that had no end. Since the last time I had been asleep, I walked a total of 21 miles and counting. The fact that I was still awake was impressing me. It did explain though why my legs were so achy…
Watching the warmth of the sun color the morning sky, sitting on a really old bridge, surrounded by period architecture along with being absolutely deserted, I felt like I had gone back in time, to Paris in the Middle Ages. Just take out all the red and green lights and there we go. I had never felt that way before. I am constantly discovering new ways to feel in this city. It truly is a magical place for me.
Because day 57 has to start somewhere and I took day 56 all the way until 6:30am on Saturday, I am going to cut this one here.
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