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I do not sleep well (read not at all) when in transit. So while everyone else on the plane was fast asleep, I was wide awake. I have no idea why, but every time I have been travelling I cannot sleep no matter how tired I am. I think it has something to do with other people. Maybe its one of those long buried instincts about remaining alert when no in your own territory. I write it off as just one more strange quirk of my brain. But after travelling for over 27 hours with no sleep, I was more than a little sleep deprived. And this is what I blame our insanity on our first day in Paris. 

We got off the plane grinning like children. We managed to find our luggage, and get tickets for the Roissy bus and were on our way to Paris. Every few minutes between commenting on the cars and highway and every other aspect of everything we could see, quite possibly making the other people on the bus wishing we were far away, I would turn to my mother and giggle, saying 'We're in Paris!', and she would giggle back and say 'I know!' (this was repeated many times over the week. It was no doubt very annoying. But you have to understand that I never really believed I would get there. I don't think my mother ever thought she would get the chance, let alone take it. 

Paris was not what I thought it would be. But it did not disappoint. I know of many people that came back from Paris complaining about the rubbish, the street people, the traffic, all manner of things. But I loved it. We got off the bus at the Opera Garnier and walked to our Hotel. We were early, 2 hours before check in, so we left our luggage and went exploring. In our itinerary we had planned everyday, not in an obsessive, down to the minute way, but in a general, flexible way. But this first day we had left blank. This was a mistake, because in our excitement, with no plan and hours to kill, we made the mistake only rookie tourists make. We tried to see everything. And it backfired. To start with, we had no idea where we were going. So we ended up walking a very long way. We also had arrived on one of the hottest days of the summer, so we got sunburned very quickly, and very badly. And I don't burn easily. What happened was that we became very tired, very sore, had blister, sunburn and saw almost nothing. And this was on our very first day. When check in time rolled around we stumbled back to our hotel. I will say though that at this point I made a wonderful discovery. I found a metro station, a map, and bought some tickets and found that I had a gift when it came to the metro. Once I discovered it, I never got lost and we used it to get everywhere. 

After some much needed sleep, we finally had a plan. I wanted to see Notre Dame. So we walked down the Seine (this time on purpose) and in the twilight we entered the square and saw one of the buildings I'd been dreaming about my whole life. There are no words that can describe it. Not just the building itself, but what it means to me. I have a small (ok HUGE) obsession with Napoleon. Some people call him a hero, some people call him a conqueror. I don't pretend to know whether what he did was good or bad, but you have to admit the man had style. That he chose Notre Dame for his coronation is just one testament to that fact. The building is beautiful. And characteristic of everything I saw, so much bigger than I thought. 

With the luck that is typical of my travelling anywhere, outside we saw a sign advertising a concert. It was for a Choir from America, and it started in an hour. So we waited, took some pictures, and then got in line and waited. Inside, we walked around the inside of the church taking pictures. We found out later from another tourist sitting next to us that usually the inside of the church is closed. During the day tourists are herded in one door, out the other, and barely get ten steps inside. We were given free reign. The concert itself was beautiful. I was having a small contact high walking on the actual floor that Napoleon walked on, standing on stone that hadn't seen daylight in 800 years. The choir was singing traditional Church hymns and sounded like angels themselves, and when the Organ played the stones themselves shook. It was dim in the church, with the sun setting behind the Rose Window in front of us, blue light shining down and the arched corridors gloomy, barely lit by the chandeliers. At one moment, from a clear sky, thunder rolled in perfect tim with organ, and swear I had goosebumps. In another song, the choir moved to be all around us in a circle, and with sound coming from all sides, standing in the Cathedral, it was like a dream. It remains the most magical moment of my life. And this was just the first day.