Paris Churches

Good Friday - a day for churches in a city peppered with beautiful churches.

A view of the back of Notre Dame Cathedral from Île Saint-Louis

Today is really just a photo journal of the gorgeous churches I simply cannot pass by as I walk through Paris.

Trinity Church

The first church I was ever inside in Paris was the Trinity Church in the 9th. When My Husband was at his interview back when we were hoping to come to Paris, I did my bit by lighting candles and praying that things would work out for us. I think they did!

This is the closest Church to us - St Merry with it's beautiful doors...

It often hosts funky art exhibits.

 And we've been to a music/light show there also.
 

And I love how the sun caught this statue... A mother losing her son - quite poignant, not only on Good Friday.

A similar statue can be found in Eglise (that means church) Saint-Nicolas-des-Champs.

She looks so sad.

This was another church I stumbled upon while out shopping for groceries. Okay, while getting lost on my way to the grocery store... And of course, I had to go in.

The sunlight was so strong that it projected the stain glass patterns onto the other wall.

 But when it comes to stained glass, Sainte Chapelle wins the prize.

I've been here 3 times and counting - its on my MUST DO list for Paris.

It must have felt magical to stand and look at these windows and the bible stories on them way back in the 12th century - these people had limited access to art, books and of course no TV - so the impact must have been tremendous.

Another close-by church is St Eustace - we happened to wander in during auditions for a new organ player. The sound was amazing - made my skin goose bump and threw a surge of emotion at the back of my eye lids! Unfortunately, I didn't record it but I do have a pretty picture of its rose window.

On my recent walking tour with Corey Frye, we took in the Saint Sulpice church.

Saint Sulpice seen from Montparnasse Tower

So much to see in this church, like where the french Revolutionaries tried to eradicate all references to religion from the church and turn it into a temple of reason. Obviously, this stain glass window was too high up for them.

Those vaulted ceilings were obviously not so high that they couldn't be sculpted - or perhaps it was done on the ground then fitted together like a giant 3D jigsaw - either way, its pretty impressive!

And then there's the frescos that proved so difficult for the painter Delacroix that working on them killed him!

Delacroix was quite obsessed with violence and angels!

Then of course there's my favorite - The Notre Dame Cathedral. Coming from Armagh, I guess I have a thing about Cathedrals. Even though the towers look like spires that haven't been finished, I just love this cathedral (but not as much as the Armagh Cathedral)

Notre Dame Cathedral from Mountparnasse Tower

 Inside it is like a double-decker version of the Armagh Cathedral.

And photogenic day or night.

The Sacre Coeur is a very different style, but equally impressive on its perch over the city.

So many churches, so many prayers!

Mine is that we all have a peaceful and violence free Easter and that tolerance and love flow freely in your hearts, homes and countries.

Byddi Lee

Get High in Paris!

For the ultimate birds-eye view many think that the Eiffel Tower is the place to go. However, when you are actually on the Eiffel Tower, you don't get to view it, and that's a shame as it is one of the most interesting things about the Paris skyline. Instead, for €15 take a trip to the top of the Montparnasse Tower Observation Deck.

The Montparnasse Tower is the only skyscraper in central Paris. My understanding of it is that as soon as it was built the people of Paris took one look at it (it's hard to miss!) and said, "Hell no!" (or the French equivalent, which I haven't gotten to yet in my lessons!) They banned anyone else from building anymore such buildings nearby. A stroke of genius I think, because now you have a perfect viewing platform with an epic 360degress view of the city. I've "wasted" hours playing with the photos we took that day.

I loved the black and whites and even used photoshopping software to preserve the gold roof on Les Invalides. Here's a close up of it - in color.

 

The Montparnasse Tower is a wonderful spot to take a zoom lens.

If you are so unfortunate as to only have one day in Paris (quelle horreur!) you could actually tick off all the sights in one swoop!

Arc de Triomphe

Centre Georges Pompidou - hard to miss with its bright colors. The Tour St. Jacques in also in this shot as is the roof of our apartment building!

The Notre Dame Cathedral

The Place de la Concorde
 

With it being the dead of winter (we went up mid December) the light was interesting.

We had timed it to take in sunset. The sun cast light from its daily-death throes in hues of gold through bronze over the landscape.

The Scare Coeur

 In the changing light...

From our vantage point we could even see the French sister to the Statue of Liberty... can you make it out center picture?

I wondered what lucky sod got a balloon ride in a golden sky. Looks so romantic!

The moon over Paris, above candy floss clouds!

There is a restaurant at the top called Ciel de Paris (the Ceiling of Paris) pricey, but the food is excellent. However we didn't have a table by the window - my fault - I messed up the date on the booking and we rocked up two weeks early! They had room for us anyways, but it felt like we had been placed at the naughty table, way at the back. So for full effect, you might want to request a table by the window and actually turn up on the correct day!

But the view at night was equally spectacular.

The streets below a maze of buttery lights.

On the ground looking up at Mountparnasse Tower - It's pretty impressive but I'm glad it is just one of a kind.

Byddi Lee

The Search for Chez Lee

Moving to another country has it's complications, even if you have a passport that allows you to work and live there. In Paris, legislation strongly supports the tenant's rights, so landlords are justifiably nervous about leasing their property. It can take a year or in some cases even longer to evict a non-paying tenant, so you must prove that you have an income that will finance your rent. You need excellent references.

You also need a French bank account.

To get a French bank account, you must have an address in France...chicken and egg kind of problem here. How do you get the one without first having the other?

My Husband's work recommended a couple of relocation agents to us. Their services are not cheap, typically costing around €2200-€2500 but we'd really no other option. Basically, they can somehow circumnavigate the "chicken and egg - bank and address" thing and help you to open an account, help you find an apartment and act as translator while all the paperwork is processed. And, oh boy, is there paperwork!

We chose to go with a company called Sofime, headed up by the lovely Sophie Girault. She was simply brilliant. Her English was perfect, she was super organized, and really knowledgeable of the process we'd be facing. She had Skyped us while we were still in California. After listening to us describe our situation, our location and style of housing preferences, and hearing My Husband's employment set up and salary, she was able to tell us that we'd only qualify for furnished apartments.

This suited us. "Furnished" in Paris means that practically everything is provided - even bed linens and towels. Less stuff for us to ship to or buy in France.

She also told us that here was a cap on the price you were allowed to spend on rent based on your monthly salary! Your rent could not be more than a third of your income. A sensible law in my opinion but it still felt very constrictive. 

With all this thrashed out ahead of time, Sophie had us primed to hit the ground running. On our second day in Paris, (yep - after that one nights sleep-of-the-dead) she met us at the bank at 8.45 am.

By 10.30am we had a French bank account and were on our way to meet Sophie's associate, whom I'll refer to as our Belle Nouvelle Amie (since her name doesn't appear on Sophie's website, and I haven't checked with her if I can use her real name - plus I liked the sound of her pseudo-name!)

Our Belle Nouvelle Amie had scoured the rental companies at the beginning of the week and set up 9 appointments for us to view . She told us that  places go fast and that we'd probably have to make the decision that same day. I was glad on one hand - we'd have it sported all the sooner and be out of the "Les Mis" style AirBnB, but what if we didn't see one we liked? 

The first apartment was nice, quite modern and spacious, but it was in the 16th Arrondisment, too far away from My Husbands work and the center of Paris. When we first decided to move we promised ourselves we'd live right in the city center, no more suburbia for us.

The next four apartments were extremely disheartening. Despite costing a fortune, they reminded me of the student flats that I'd seen in Belfast when I went to university there. Many of them were in gracious old building that had been chopped up and subdivided so badly that the flow of the rooms often made no sense. There was one that might have been okay, over looking the Seine...of you stood on tiptoes to peer past the huge construction site just below the window...

I tried not to think of the view from our our house in the way that one pokes around the edges of a scabby wound to test if it is healing or not. I'd tried to prepare myself for these moments, yet images of the rolling golden hills lingered in my minds eye. 

Deep breath... 1... 2... 3...

We had a break for lunch in a charming brasserie. Our Belle Nouvelle Ami was surprised when I recognized an item on the menu - Black pudding! It's made from pigs blood and is one of my favorite foods, despite how gross it sounds. I had that on a big pile of buttery mash potatoes, and it put my world back to rights! We were jet lagged, tired and weary with huge gaping holes in our view of the immediate future. But we'd get through it. 

As our Belle Nouvelle Ami took us to the sixth apartment, I saw what looked like a man standing at the top of a high tower. It seemed to be a statue, but was odd because it was not balanced-out by a  figure on the other side. Where was the symmetry? With that fuzzy head you get with jet lag, I wondered was I seeing things? My hear rate accelerated as I remembered first a story my sister told me about seeing ghosts in Prague, then a story my Mum had told me about being first on the scene of someone who'd jumped/fallen from a high building.

"Can you see a man at the top of that tower?" I asked our Belle Nouvelle Ami.

"Mais, non," she said. 

My heart stopped. I was sure I could see it.

"Really?" There may have been a edge of panic in my voice.

"I see a statue, but no man..."

Phew! She'd been taking me literally. I later learned that it was Saint-Jacques Tower - a Gothic tower and the only remaining part of a 16th-century church that was destroyed during the French Revolution.

Jacques Tower

Equilibrium restored, we looked at the sixth apartment just around the corner from this tower. We were nearly late for the appointment, but the rental company guy was very patient and waited for us. 

It was on the fourth floor, but had a glass elevator (very Charlie and the Chocolate Factory!) As soon as I  walked in, I loved it. When My Husband stood in front of the mantelpiece and said with great enthusiasm and gesturing with his arms, "The speakers could go right here!" I knew he wanted it too!

It was spacious and bright, with understated decor. It just felt right. We had two more places to look at, but they weren't a patch on this one. I was terrified we'd lose it to the next couple about to view it.

Having viewed all nine, we confidently told our Belle Nouvelle Ami we'd made our decision. She agreed it was a good spot and she called the Rental Agency right away. 

That was on a Thursday evening. 

On Friday she got back to us and said that the Rental Agency would know by Monday. We spent the weekend praying! Monday wasn't too long a wait considering that nothing happens fast in France. I'm working on being okay with that. I mean, why rush when  there's all those delicious croissants to eat and cheeses to sample, not to mention the vin to drink while you're waiting? Patience is not a virtue I possess, so this is just something I have to suck up and get through.

We caught up on much needed sleep that first weekend, knowing that we'd have lots of time and opportunities to explore Paris. We even grew used to the cramped conditions of our "Les Mis" AirBnB. Even so, we were overjoyed when Sophie from Sofime called to tell us that we'd been accepted for the apartment we wanted.

We were so relieved. Yes, it is less than half the size of our house in California. It has no garden - though it does have a nice balcony. I wasn't sure if I'd cope with the noise from a busy street below us... but a year is not so very long...

We moved in the following Friday. The traffic from below us sounded loud but reminded me of listening to waves on the seashore. There were lots of people on the streets too. Were we 20 years too old for this place? Had we made a mistake? By Saturday morning I knew it would be find. Sure we'd heard people partying on the street below in the wee hours, but it had not kept me awake. In fact the noise of the traffic had lulled me to sleep. I'd even enjoyed hearing the revelers - happy noises of people having fun and me tucking up in a cozy bed sharing a sliver of the experience, yet glad not to be down there. Like when you're all cozy in bed and listening to the rain outside. I might at some stage miss the yipping of the coyotes or the gobbles of the wild turkeys we'd listened to in the past, but for now I liked this change. We could do this.

The very next evening we had our first visitors. What joy it is to host friends (and family) here. A short walk to the end of the street and I found my favorite night-time spot in Paris.

To the right, you can see the Eiffel Tower twinkling over the streets of Paris.

And to the left, Notre Dame Cathedral peeks out.

In the days that followed, I had to buy some things for the apartment even though it was furnished. I discovered that a shop I was familiar with from home - "Habitat" - was on the Rue Boucher which made me smile because they used to have one on the Boucher Road in Belfast too.

 

It was a slow process finding the right shops to get those last few bits and pieces. My Mum asked me at that point did I miss anything from the USA.

"I'd do anything for a Bed, Bath and Beyond right now," I told her. But I only half meant it. When I first landed in the USA, I'd had the exact same problem. In time my explorations will lead me to the shops I need and more. I was confident of that.

I'd  like to thank Sophie Girault and the team at Sofime, especially our Belle Nouvelle Ami who has been a wonderful help and continues to follow up every detail to help with our relocation. I honestly don't know what we'd have done without them.... 

Maybe without them, I'd be sitting at that 5th floor window in the AirBnB singing "I dreamed a dream..."





Byddi Lee

You had me at "Bonjour!"

When I first moved to the USA, I was blasted by the sense that I was in my own feature film. My movie moments tended to be borrowed from those epic westerns with yellow grasses and rolling hills blending into majestic mountains.

This October morning, in Paris, I am having another movie moment. This time with a different genre. I'm sitting looking out through a fifth story window into a rustic courtyard (to describe it kindly). It looks like something from the set of Les Miserables, with broken shutters on dirty windows and peeling paint. The cobbles below glisten with a variety of colors from rosy-beige to slate-grey. It's all a tad "down in the heel" until from somewhere across the courtyard wafts piano music.

Someone is playing a piano and playing it well, with beautiful heart-rending music, the soundtrack to a moody romantic film noir set in Europe any time onwards from the early 19th century. As I lean my elbows on the balcony absorbing the moment, I know that we've made the right decision about Paris - the only decision about Paris... and I also realize it's time to start blogging again...

One day in May, a few days after we'd finished all our travel adventures, My Husband was on the hunt for a job. I came home from working with a gardening client. My Husband met me at the front door and said in horrendous French, "Bonjour, parlez vous Francais?"

In a split second I knew it meant he'd had word from a former boss, now working in Paris, and that there was a chance of a job there. In the next couple of seconds we decided... It wasn't hard and the answer was obvious - Yesssss!

Paris was closer to home without the Irish climate and ... well ...Paris ...I mean...Paris...right?

For the next six weeks, we kept quiet about the job for a few reasons. There was no point in raising hope for my family in Ireland that we might be moving closer to home. There was the superstition that we could scupper the job completely just by talking about it. Then there was California... we felt like we were unfaithful lovers ending a long relationship just by thinking about the seductive other place - glamorous, romantic Paris!

I mean, it wasn't California's fault. It was us who had changed, not it. I who had longed for sunshine in the grey Irish climate, now lusted after four seasons. I wanted to see Autumn and Spring at different times of the year - in California they both seemed to arrive in November and give way to summer again in a few short weeks. I wanted to shrink the place, so that you could get somewhere, anywhere, different in a drive that was less than 4 hours. I wanted less adrenaline and more quaint old buildings and culture, more chilling in street cafes with my sister, and great cuisine, and time with my nephews. I wanted less suburbia, less time driving around in a car and more walking along city streets. Less time weeding and more time perusing veggies at a market and selecting cheeses and... oh my God...I realized that perhaps in the eight years we'd been in California, I'd grown up a little bit and wanted different things. I'd changed ... sorry California, all that gallivanting at the beginning of the year had squeezed a wedge between us. California felt very far from the rest of the world, and suddenly Paris felt like the center of the Universe.

Time accordioned during those six weeks in the summer. Sometimes it crawled by so slowly that we felt like a month had passed in one afternoon as we waited to hear news back from Paris. Then time sprinted forward as we took a secret trip to Paris in July, only the people at the interview knowing we were there. Not even our family or neighbors knew we'd gone and a couple of sets of close friends ironically popped up in Paris while we visited (one from Ireland for the weekend and a couple from California on vacation to Europe) - thank goodness for Facebook check-ins - we knew where to avoid them.

We were so thrilled on the plane, using our terrible French on everyone we met. The flight attendant gave us champagne (for free) - It was a sign!

We stayed in the 9th Arrondissment, near the Trinity Church, Place d'Estienne d'Orves, in an AirBnB studio apartment. I was so excited just to be in Paris, with its beautiful buildings, the melodic language, the bridges...

 

the sculptures...

 

 Even MacDonald's was cute...

 

The city had a vibe that reminded me of how I felt as an 18 year-old living in the heart of Belfast when I first went to Queen's University, with an energy that whispered of good times shunning boredom with lots of different things to see and do. It was my first time in Paris, and I totally fell in love - sorry California - the heart wants what the heart wants!

On the morning of the interview, we sat in our accommodation,  rinsing the dregs of jet lag from our bodies with coffee, when an alarm sounded in the building next to us. We poked our heads out our door and saw that they were evacuating people onto the street. We choose not to see this as a sign, but we decided to evacuate too, after I made My Husband go back inside and grab his good shoes and his suit! Fortunately, it was a false alarm and we all went back inside in a matter of minutes.

While my husband went to his interview, I went to the beautiful Trinity Church and lit candles. The rest of the week (bar one more meeting for My Husband with HR) was ours to explore the city. We walked everywhere and at all times of day and night wanting to see the Eiffel tower...

in all its moods...

 

 with the lights on too...

 

From atop the Lafayette Galleries...

And from the Scare Coeur...

 

I loved the gargoyles up there too.

 

We ticked off the major sights, fearful that My Husband would not get the job, and we'd never be back here.

There was the Moulin Rouge...

 

And my personal favorite - The Notre Dame Cathedral...

 

The streets hummed with people. Everyone me met was friendly and kind, contrary to what we'd been told about Parisians. We laughed at how we'd begin with our mangled "Bonjour," and immediately the French would switch to English. I mean, how could we get our "Bonjour" so wrong that it gave us away so quickly?

By the time I left Paris I wanted to live here so badly that it took my breath away. I couldn't sleep, couldn't concentrate on anything and tried to tell myself that if we didn't get this opportunity that we still lived a great life in California...

It was fast really, but to us it seemed to take forever to hear back from the Paris Company. Positive snippets of news about the interview, the job, the contract came back to us piece by piece from Paris in precious little droplets of information until eventually we had a puddle of confidence big enough to break the news - My Husband had a new job, and we were moving to Paris!

We had just invited a huge suite of new challenges into our lives such as living in a big city, in a smaller space with no car, moving to a colder climate, having to keep up with the style, feeding My Husband who hates cheese, creamy food and strong tasting meat like beef and lamb, and most of all communicating in French...

It was the beginning of a whole new world of adventure. And we were ready for it...we hoped!

Byddi Lee