Rhone Day 2: Notre Dame

Wednesday we were on our own to explore Paris. The tour organizers sent us information ahead of time and warned us that popular places needed a reservation or we might end up waiting in line for hours.

Ingrid and I started off early. She had been in Paris for a few days with her husband and grown daughter. (Jack and Erica had left for Normandy on Monday.) Ingrid thought she had figured out the metro although she admitted that Erica had been their guide. We both had digital maps in our phones. We should be fine, right? Uh... The one thing I really wanted to see was Notre Dame. We had to change trains for that. 

The station where we changed was a huge labyrinth. Signs saying "Sortie" pointed every direction, but which exit did that sign point to? We didn't recognize the names of any of the streets above ground, and none of the signs said, "Notre Dame this way." When I was navigating Seoul while my daughter lived there, I had only to look puzzled and someone offered help. Not so in Paris. We wandered probably ten or fifteen minutes before we managed to stop one of the people rushing past to catch the next train. He didn't speak English, but someone overheard us asking and took pity.

We got the right train.

Ïle de la Cité was the first stop. I could see the new spire, and we headed in that direction. We thought.  Somehow we must have gotten turned around because we ended up circling the entire Palais de Justice before we got headed in the right direction. 

By the time we got there, we had missed our reserved entry time. Fortunately it was early enough that there was no line to speak of to get in. Whew!

I'm sure you shared my horror five years ago when the roof collapsed, bringing down the spire of the cathedral completed in 1345 after 200 years of work. It has been beautifully restored. The stone gleams white, cleansed of centuries of candle smoke as well as fire damage.

But in the Middle Ages the stone WASN'T white. It was brightly painted. In the restoration they left the nave white as we are used to seeing it, but painted the chapels around the apse as they would have been originally. Very striking.

Around the choir are reliefs of Bible stories like this one of the last supper and Gethsemane.

Ingrid works at St. Vincent's hospital in Indy. We took some time to just sit in the chapel of St. Vincent de Paul, the 17th-c French priest known for his service to the poor.

When we left, the staff pointed us to the restrooms down some steps at one side of the place. Problem: a chain blocked access.  Fortunately, Paris has theses handy dandy cubicles along the street. When the door shuts after use, it goes into a cleaning mode and won't open until it finishes.

After a snack on a bench at the side of the cathedral, we retraced out steps to the 

Conciergerie.