Chapter One.Seven: rue Rivoli, Our Lady and a good bye..

Walking down from the Louvre on rue Rivoli, we decided that the next historical monument to visit would have to be the Cathédrale de Notre Dame (Kaa-they-dhraal the Nau-thr Dhaam). Rue Rivoli is magnificent, to say the least, and is a pleasure to any Paris first timer. As with any other quaint European street, it is lined by old stone monuments, some downright absurd in architecture, but you would find any of the modern era business establishments, especially the ubiquitous haute couture establishments and the some more affordable ones.

At one of the street corners, a steel band was performing a percussionist number and there were some accompanying gestures directed towards the legal guardians. They were very clear in their general like of the keepers and the keepers were kind enough to smile back in mock from their horses. Some shouting followed after which the band disbanded and started to march across the street, banging away at all times against their instruments. The vehicles respectfully waited while the members crossed amidst cheerful clapping and encouragement from the mustering of tourists which included us as well.



Crossing the Seine to the Île de la Cité (Eel the laa Si-they), the tiring mass of us came upon the Cathedral of Our Lady of Paris. It is markedly different in its Gothic architecture as compared to the other monuments that we had come across and were spellbound in its magnificence. That we were to encounter an even better exhibition of the said architecture in the near future was as yet an mystery to us.

Tired that we were of the cross city walk that we had executed and in keeping with the body clock that was still adjusting, we decided to call it a day and head back to the hostel. An additional pressing reason being that we had to catch the early morning express to Rome at 0745 from Gare de Lyon.

We caught the metro to Porte de Bagnolet, bid goodbyes to our visitors from London and then made our short walk back to the hostel. The last essentials of the day: food to fill our stomachs and rations for our travel the next day on the train.

We debated various options of restaurants based primarily on the economical damage that they would cause and the relative ease that we could adjust to the food. We finally settled on a Chinese restaurant at the junction of rue Davout, short walk from the hostel. Mr. X was in an extremely bad biological shape with an sharp pain in his legs caused by the long walks that we had undertaken that day.

Chinese restaurants, outside of India, typically serve the food along with chopsticks and steel cutlery is provided solely upon request. I challenged the devastated Mr.X to a trial by chopsticks which he refused unenthusiastically. Must say that Mr.X was winding down way too quickly and his very survival for the remnant of the trip seemed suspect. Having staffed ourselves with the basic fruits, breads and beverages for the next day, we wound down very late in hopes of waking up on time the next morning.