De Triomphe

This morning while walking back to the hotel after walking the Paris version of the high line, some guy with windows down on Pont de Sully was playing Daft Punk's Around the World unironically

Allora. Pooping on holiday poses challenges for me as I lose the rhythms of eating, caffeine and bowel movements that I have at home, and whose predictability is what inspires me to take holidays in the first place. It wasn't until my third day in Rome that I managed to pass the omelette and smoothie I'd eaten back in Adelaide, and everything else since. It took a double Roman coffee with milk to finally do the trick. "I am the Caesar of my sphincter", I proclaimed to myself as I kicked off what I thought would be a return to normal form. (The visit to the Roman Forum the day before was still embedded in my consciousness.)

I think it was the extra spicy sauce on the already spicy chicken curry takeaway that I ate on my last night in Lucerne that disrupted further Pax Romana. Or perhaps it was just the Gauls? Because I've had troubles for days in France and definitely feel like my stool is in arrears, and is approaching a debt-ceiling that I do not want to hit in public, especially in the Louvre or on the top of the Arc de Triomphe. The Caffe Latte Venti that I drank this afternoon on the Metro between Odéon and La Defense gave me great confidence that a bipartisan agreement might be reached quickly, and - other than on the 25 minute bus ride to Rueil-Malmaison - the most logical place for this accord to occur was in the toilets at Château de Malmaison. It was the former residence of Empress Joséphine de Beauharnais and her husband Napoleon Bonaparte. And where we were visiting this afternoon.

Well before this trip out of Paris, months earlier, when I first discovered Josephine and the Bonaparte family's sprawling retreat was on the Paris Museum Pass I'd wondered how Napoleon might feel if he knew I was visiting his retreat and taking pictures of his stuff. The first, obvious impression is that he wouldn't care at all. I don't like Napoleon, but I do respect him for working really hard to be an extreme example of what a single, individual human is capable of doing in a lifetime. Even though a lot of the things he did were bad, other things he did were admirable and incredible (the metric system, his strategy and tactics, his memory and ability to learn and innovate).

Napoleon was also a general of the people, and would join the soldiers and followers at the campfires before and after battles. Theoretically, if he was interested in those people maybe he would be interested in me and my life too. He was definitely an egotist, which would count in my favour as he would surely be inquiring to know exactly what kind of future-people would visit him. He also spent a lot of his days travelling, so I think we would have in common the challenges of pooping across Europe.

I did try to poo at Napoleon's house today, but just like the appropriately named Waterloo, today was not my day of victory and I only farted a few times. Oh well, I'm going to Les Invalides tomorrow so I might have to console myself by dropping a turd next to his corpse.

Editor's note 27/6: I did, and it was satisfying. I am l'Empereur of my l'Anus. Napoleon and the Tyrannosaurus Rex are now both on the same list.

Back in Paris, the Coulée verte René-Dumont - AKA the Paris High Line - was a lovely although not thrilling way to spend the morning and enjoy some cooler temperatures that had rolled in. The baguette and coffee we had for breakfast helped with this. Also, I am not even joking, the free water fountains in the park at the end give out sparkling water. I am not looking forward to returning to Adelaide...

Here are some photos from a new perspective:

I won't write about getting lost on the way to lunch before our trip out to Rueil-Malmaison. One of the drawbacks of doing so much walking is that you do need a lot of calories to restore energy and despite all the restaurants and supermarkets it can be hard to just find a burger sometimes. Luckily I eventually did, which helped a lot.

The trip to Rueil-Malmaison via La Défense also required eight total tickets for the two of us, including special ones for the way back into Paris. Probably worth it to see Napoleon's study, harp and billiard's table.

Did he seriously read all these books on a weekend getaway from Paris? Maybe he did. Maybe he just thought they looked cool. I should get a library...

There was a bit of overlap with artworks I'd already seen in the Louvre too. And - in a topic I'll reflect on more in future - while the Château was primarily focused on Bonaparte, historically a lot of other things happened there too including Napoleon III restoring it after the changes between the restoration and 1870. I can say that I sat on Bonaparte's toilet, but really there's a whole 150 years of cheeks between then and now that mean it wasn't a completely immersive experience. And it wasn't his actual toilet obviously, he would have shat in a fancy bucket and I had to make do with the public toilets in the renovated right wing.

When we finally translated the public transport protocols we arrived back in Paris to overcast skies around Trocadéro for our plans for a dinner picnic in a park with the locals. We balanced our view of the Eiffel Tower with finding a bench in the shade that wasn't covered in pigeon crap. We did have a view of the landmark, through the trees, as you could kind of see if I hadn't focused on the raspberries in this photo.

The picnic - baguette with falafel and carrot with vinaigrette, cucumber and raspberries - was extremely pleasant no doubt helped by the rising tower in the background and the can of French Amber Ale.

After dinner we walked over to the Arc de Triomphe and skipped the queue with the Museum Pass to take in the panorama.

I think Arc de Triomphe is my favourite landmark in the whole city so far. The story behind its construction (more Napoleon obviously) and positioning, the sheer amount of detail in the reliefs (after so many in Europe, finally some with guns in them). And the view. It kind of makes everything you've seen feel so close, but all at the same time.

One of the reliefs features a stolen sphinx being carried through... An arc de triomphe! Très meta.

Having borne witness to the scale of the city and the length of the Champs-Élysées, the most obvious course of action would have been to take the metro back to the hotel. Instead we walked. First through the garish, American shops and restaurants on the right bank, then across at Place de la Concorde and back to the hotel from there. A total of 32,300 steps for the day and that barely squeaks in for a podium finish.

How many landmarks can you spy?