Independent Travel in Paris (Exploring Paris Without Speaking a Foreign Language)
Without truly experiencing it firsthand, no matter how vivid your imagination or how many videos you’ve watched, you can never really—even superficially—understand a city. Paris is like this even more so.
After finishing a road trip through France, Luxembourg, Germany, Austria, and Switzerland, our daughter went back to Beijing, and my wife and I started our independent trip in Paris without knowing a word of any foreign language.
Over the next few days, armed with a free Paris metro map and a Paris tourist map from the train station information desk, we squeezed onto the metro, visited museums and churches, strolled through parks, walked the streets, shopped at supermarkets, leaving early and returning late. We smoothly—and beyond expectations—completed the itinerary we’d planned at home, gradually turning the hazy outline of Paris from images into a vivid and clear reality.
On the map, the Seine River curves through the city like a half-moon bow, with the arc’s apex slicing diagonally from east-southeast to west-northwest, forming the city’s central axis. Said to have begun under Louis XIV and taken shape under Napoleon, this axis is dotted with exquisite classical architecture and an array of stone and bronze statues. The museums scattered along and nearby encapsulate five thousand years of world civilization and artistic masterpieces.
Our Paris journey started at the far end of this axis, which surprisingly concentrates the most modern buildings—tall towers of strikingly different styles, showcasing contemporary design and architectural art. Standing under the imposing Grande Arche de la Défense (the modern glass arch), gazing toward Napoleon’s Arc de Triomphe in the distance, I suddenly felt history and the present intertwined, classic and trendy blending together.
From there, we moved back through time: past the Arc de Triomphe, the Grand Palais and Petit Palais, Pont Alexandre III, Les Invalides; past the Obelisk and Place de la Concorde;
into the Louvre, Musée d’Orsay, the Grand Palais’s exhibition halls, the Eiffel Tower,
into the ancient Notre-Dame and La Madeleine Church,
into the magnificent Palace of Versailles;
along the Champs-Élysées, with plane trees still green shading the roadway; beyond the pavement, between two rows of tall, evenly spaced chestnut trees, a path of coarse sand and fine gravel. Autumn wind, light rain, golden leaves underfoot rustling—even with heavy traffic just a few dozen meters away, it felt like I was deep in the countryside;
strolling along the lush banks and old buildings lining the Seine, then into the Jardin du Luxembourg beside the school where our daughter once studied, catching the sunset and experiencing up close the leisurely life of Parisians.
Getting around Paris, the metro is the smartest and most convenient choice. More than a dozen M lines running in different directions slice the city into small chunks, while the larger, faster RER lines connect the city center with the near and far suburbs. It feels like anywhere in Paris, you’ll find a metro entrance within a few minutes’ walk. Once aboard any train, you can transfer and quickly reach a station near your destination. On the first day, we walked seven or eight minutes to a larger station. When we returned and studied the map carefully, we found a line with a stop very close to our accommodation—so in the evening, after exiting the metro, it took less than two minutes to walk back. From then on, we used that entrance every day.
Metro tickets come in several options: single-trip, ten-trip carnet, or day passes. Day passes are divided into zones 1–2, 1–3, 1–4. A zone 1–2 pass allows unlimited metro and bus rides within the city center for one day and costs €7; zone 1–3 covers the center plus near suburbs at €8.50; zone 1–4 adds further suburbs at €11, reaching the airport over 20 km away and Versailles over 30 km away.
On our first metro ride, we wanted to buy a zone 1–2 day pass. We gestured and gestured at the ticket window without getting anywhere, then flipped through my travel English notes and wrote “1-2 Mobilis” on a slip of paper and handed it over—success. The next day, we bought all the day passes our itinerary required and used them directly each day. Navigating by map is a must, whether in the metro or on the streets. Whenever we looked lost, kind-hearted people always came over to help. When I approached someone myself, no matter their age or skin color, they were patient and meticulous. Language barriers exist, but communication is possible as long as your goal is clear and simple. During rush hour, the metro gets very crowded, people rushing about, but everyone is restrained, polite, and courteous; even a glance exchanged comes with a smile—a warmth similar to the smiles of the Air France cabin crew.
Travel always brings uncertainties. In Paris, we nearly missed the Louvre. It took three attempts to finally visit. The first time, rain made us change plans. Outside the glass pyramid, after much confused questioning, we suddenly realized it was the regular weekly closing day—our itinerary had dodged it but without a clear note, so we goofed. The second time, we went as scheduled, but a crowd had gathered outside unable to enter. Someone said all Paris museums were on strike that day, and it wasn’t certain they would open the next. Language hurdles kept us from confirming, but the following day it opened normally, making our Paris trip complete. That day I checked Chinanews and saw that a one-day strike by Paris sanitation workers had left streets littered with garbage (imagined, I never saw it). Around the Grand Palais and the Champs-Élysées intersection, I saw many Mercedes and other cars lining the curb, probably related to the strike or a gathering.
Follow the rules when you should, exercise your rights when you must, work seriously, rest and relax—that’s Paris to me. When the metro isn’t crowded, you often see someone pull out a book or newspaper the moment they sit down. At a fast-food joint, a young girl held a burger in her left hand and flipped open a book with her right. The Black guy making crêpes at the snack bar was chef, manager, and waiter all in one, constantly tidying up inside and out. The Air France catering attendant worked lightning-fast with incredible efficiency and a face full of confidence. In Europe’s high-welfare society, the income gap between workers and the unemployed, white-collar and blue-collar, isn’t huge—though it’s said there’s also a class of urban poor who refuse to work and live solely on benefits.
A few days before departure, we saw news of a suspected terrorist planning a gun attack on the Brussels–Paris high-speed train—exactly the route we’d be taking. I couldn’t help thinking security was too lax if weapons could be brought aboard. Only when we got there did I realize there’s no security check at all for that train: no ticket gates, no boarding gates. You simply drag your luggage to the platform and get on. They checked tickets at the carriage door when boarding, and on the return trip they didn’t check until long after the train had left. The metro is self-serve entry and exit; you basically never see staff. Out of dozens of rides, I only encountered a manual ticket check once, and once saw a guy vault over the ticket barrier when the gate didn’t open.
Pickpockets are indeed plentiful in Paris, active at airports, train stations, and tourist spots—they either steal or snatch and run. Asians, especially ethnic Chinese, are prime targets. On the metro to the airport, a pickpocket targeted me and almost succeeded. Back in the capital, strolling Wangfujing Street at night, you see patrol police, SWAT, security, and plainclothes officers everywhere. Who would dare steal? Our country is truly formidable. On the high-speed train, it’s even more reassuring: I bought a kitchen knife at Galeries Lafayette, took the French TGV to and from Belgium, flew Air France back, then Air China to Chengdu—all without any issue. Knowing I couldn’t bring it on China’s intercity express, I refunded that ticket and took a taxi home.
