The Myth of "Free" Wifi

When it became certain that I would be heading to Paris, the first thing that I immediately wanted to know was: will there be wifi? I'm something of an internet junkie, but keeping in touch with my family via facebook, skype, and twitter, and of course the writing of this blog, were all important factors. Therefore I felt reassured when I looked on several sites back home and was assured by all that wifi would be everywhere and free with the purchase of a coffee or pastry, something that I would buy anyway.

Ladies and gentlemen, after a day searching the Louvre Carousel, I can now tell you that this it a lie. If truly free wifi exists in Paris, I've yet to find it and in such a place as this, rife with cafes and shops and a popular tourist attraction lacks it, then where on earth are we expected to find it?

I started my mission from the apartment early this morning. Computed packed with the cord and adapter just in case battery power ran low. Complicated metro stops later I was beneath the Louvre in the underground shopping center/miniature Paris with its many restaurants, cafes, boutiques and gift shops. Starbucks was my first choice and the sign in the window advertising free wifi seemed promising so I bought breakfast and a coffee to get me started. The barista handed me a card with a username and password in order to fetch the wifi. Three cards later, my computer and the wifi network were still having none of each other. So instead I sat with the paperback I thought to bring ahead while I finished my muffin and coffee.

A comfy padded bench in the middle of an underground sort of museum looked like a fantastic place to situate myself two hours later after I'd given up on my old standby for good. A plethora of free networks presented themselves to me and none required a password. Overjoyed, I tried connecting to the first only to be taken to a page that declared it would need my credit card number. Not happening. So I flipped to the next one which took me to another page that cheerfully stated in bright bold lettering that I needed to put in a username and password that could be purchased from a nearby restaurant. Great.

Five attempts at connecting and countless more tries at hacking into a network later, I gave up until a familiar glowing yellow sign caught my eye.

McDonalds. It was one o'clock, I'd been traversing the Louvre Carousel searching for wifi for a long time and the muffin of the morning seemed so far away. I'd sworn to myself I wouldn't stoop to eating in McDonalds while I was surrounded by so many fantastic little cafes, but I'm an American at heart and by this time was desperate. So I mounted the escalator and the first thing I saw was the little card standing by the cash register: wifi gratuit. Free wifi.

A chicken wrap is sitting comfortably in my stomach as I sit in one of the incredibly more stylish than the American version seats, connected to free wifi as I write this. And all I had to do was enter my name and email. And for the record, French McDonalds tastes better than the American version.

A Wonderful Day

Today, I had a wonderful day.

That's right, I spent my day at the Louvre.

It started with taking the metro from my host family's apartment. There are two metro stations within close walking distance, one required only one transfer but was much harder to get to with the twisty turny streets of Pairs, so I chose the much more straightforward way from the house, but difficult metro routes. Two transfers later, I was at the Louvre.

I traipsed blindly through the Rochefort wing, looking for the few works I knew would be hidden away somewhere in the immensity that is the old palace. For three hours, I was surrounded by statues, the works of French painters and medieval carvings and illuminations. It was all very beautiful, but the smell of coffee and the lunch hour drew me away from the beauty.

Let me just say that to an American girl who spent the summer becoming addicted to coffee, Starbucks is almost as good as any work of art. That melusine/mermaid logo starts to look like an angel if a system used to a caffeine fix hasn't had any since the plane ride over to Europe more than a week ago. So one white mocha and a sandwich later, I was rejuvenated and ready to hit the galleries again.

Winged Victory is one of my favorite sculptures, perhaps my favorite though its not like I have extensive knowledge on art of any kind. Maybe it's the way they have it positioned, it's the largest piece of art in a sparsely decorated grand room located just at the top of a staircase and directly between two others. It is absolutely magnificent and I was lucky enough to get a clear picture of it as seen above.

A helpful security guard later, I was standing in front of my second favorite statue, the Venus de Milo. For something so famous, it was in a room shockingly crowded with other pieces and not so many tourists. Either that or I just got really lucky that hardly anyone was there because I was able to get another really clear and uncrowded picture.

Leonardo DaVinci might be the most famous Italian artist, but my heart belongs to another. Oh I made the walk by of the Mona Lisa, but I didn't wait in the line to see her up close, I snapped a photo from afar. No, in my opinion the best Italian artist of the Renaissance was Alessandro Boticelli. His settings, his colors, his models and poses, and just everything about his art makes me happy. I absolutely adore La Primavera, though sadly it and most of his works are in Italy. Still, the Louvre does have another of his paintings that I spent time getting acquainted with.

Venus and the Three Graces

After the Mona Lisa, I was tired and ready to see some sunshine. Stopping once more at the Starbucks, I got an iced version of my earlier mocha and headed to the Tuileries. Just a small side note: those grates in the ground? Yeah, they blow air out of them. I wasn't aware of that until I walked over one and my skirt did a Marilyn Monroe much to the appreciation of the construction workers nearby. Thank goodness for leggings.

The Tuileries were absolutely amazing, and though I've only ever been to Paris before in the spring, I've decided that fall is the best time to come out of those two seasons. The changing colors of the leaves, the late blooming roses and other flowers, birds chirping their last songs before winter, incomparable.

So that was my fantastic day. I'm nursing sore feet and a new, though significantly smaller blister than the last one, but it was all worth it.