Paris: Day 3

I had a little stomach bug when I returned to Norte Dame. I stopped by the Cathedral yesterday after the Louvre, but only for a short trip, so I wanted to come back and check it out more in detail. I also wanted to climb to the top and get take in the view of the city from up top. My stomach started hurting on the long walk up the stairs to the towers, but I was fine until I reached the first platform. There, stepping out into the sunlight, my stomach started rumbling. The milk in the Indian food, or the water in Paris, or just plain old food poisoning was coming back to haunt me. The pain started in my stomach, but it moved down and down and down as I took pictures of the beautiful views from the top of the church. Before you know it, the pain reached the end of the line. I had to find a bathroom, and I had to find one fast.

You may be surprised to know this, but there are no bathrooms at the top of Notre Dame.

I walked across the middle section connecting the two towers well enough. I made it to the bell tower, but I looked inside only to check if there was a way out, not to see the bells of Notre Dame. The pain grew. I stepped off to the side and wondered if I was fighting a losing battle. I was sweating, not because of the heat (although it was hot) but because of the pain. It was a cold sweat, like the kind you have with a fever. I looked around for anthing that would make a suitable toilet. I thought that it was going to come to that. I stood beside a trash can holding my sides and clenching my butt. Sweat was pouring off me.

I felt my pain gurgle up a little in me and the pressure subsided a moment so I made a break for the door. I walked into the stairwell only to find that it went up and not down. The only exit was to go all the way to the top of the tower then back down the other side. Well, I thought, if I don't make it I'll be one of the few people that can say that they crapped themselves at the top of Notre Dame.

I ached up the stairs, still holding my sides. When I got to the top, people were blocking the way. Of course they were: I was at the top of Notre Dame and the view was beautiful. I actually snapped a few pictures while I was up there to get my mind off things while I waited for the people in front of me to move. Finally, the path became open and I headed down the stairs.

Strangely on the way down, there were two college students from Korea in front of me. They chatted away in Korean, and I would have taken the opportunity to chat with them if I actually could find the strength to make words, but all my energy was concentrated a little bit lower than my mouth. At the very least, I thought, if the worst happens, I'll be able to say "would you please go buy me a new pair of pants?" in Korean. I made it to the bottom and luckily there was a public bathroom not far from the tower. I ran in so fast that I almost ran into the women's side. An attendant stopped me and ushered me over to the men's side, where I broke into a stall and let fly.

If it weren't for the relief I was feeling, I probably would have been weirded out by the tiny, cramped, rather dirty stall with bright pink toilet paper, but I wasn't. I emptied out what felt like months and months of food, and I let a sigh of relief. That wasn't the end of the bug, but luckily, it was the worst of it.

My day didn't begin nearly as bad as that. The stomach bug didn't hit me until after lunch, so I had had a pleasant morning before dashing for the john. First, I went to the Orsay Museum. This was smaller than the Louvre, but I found it much much more enjoyable. Actually, I'd put it at number one on my "things to see in Paris" list. The art was incredible, most of which came from the 1800s and early 1900s (filling in the gap between the Louvre and the Museum of Modern Art). After that, I had a wonderful lunch at a little vegetarian cafe not far away.

I revisited Notre Dame (see above) before I headed off on a bike tour of the city. Actually, two bike tours: the first was during the day and the second at night. There's not much to say about the tours other than it's the most English I spoke on the entire trip (the bike tour group was run by Americans), and that it hit most of the sights that I had already seen or would see over the next few days.

One funny thing, however, happened on the boat ride that ended the night bicycle tour. I sat down on the boat and noticed the family sitting behind me was speaking Korean. I didn't really think much of it and just enjoyed the sights. Soon after I sat down, however, a man came up to the family and said in English, "I'm sorry, but you have to move. These seats are reserved." The family looked at each other in confusion and the man said it again, this time louder and slower (because that would make the understand), "I'M SORRY, BUT YOU HAVE TO MOVE. THESE SEATS ARE RESERVERD." They, of course, still weren't getting it. I turned around "Mian-hajeeman, yogi-eh yeh-yak hae-saw-yo," I said: a translation of what the guy was saying in English. The family looked at me shocked, but then got up and moved, thanking me for telling them what the guy was saying.

I was in the reserved spot too, so I had to get up and move as well. I didn't follow the Korean family, but instead just moved to the closest available seat. This seat, as luck would have it, was right next to a group of Korean business men--drunk Korean business men. I started up a conversation and ended up talking to one guy for nearly the entire boat ride. He ended up inviting me to his house, which is able an hour away by train from where I live. I might take him up on it one day.

After the boat ride, I headed back to the hotel happy to have some stories to tell and glad nothing turned out too badly.

R