The Bachelor's Chris Harrison isn't
looking for someone to give his final rose to. He found her
long ago. But he only recently found the perfect place to
take her and their two young children: the City of
Light.
It's a brisk autumn night in
Paris as Chris Harrison and his family
gather in the Trocadéro, the area overlooking the Eiffel Tower.
Harrison's two children - son Joshua, four, and daughter Taylor,
two - scamper about, oblivious to the cold, as Harrison talks about
The Bachelor, the show he has hosted since 2002. This season
unfolds in the City of Light, where Harrison and his family lived
while he was filming the show last fall. Last night, Harrison
shivered near this very spot until midnight as they shot the show's
opening sequence.
"It was freezing," Harrison says, blowing into his gloves for
warmth. "But this is going to be a good season. We've gone back to
basics." That's a good thing for a franchise that was threatening
to wear thin after a three-seasons-a-year rotation and 1,000 hot
tubs. This time, however,
The Bachelor has taken a break
from the network schedule and abandoned the no-rules gimmickry of
last season. They have eschewed near-celebrities and professional
football players for a good-natured, good-looking (but of course!)
ER doctor from
Nashville named Travis Stork. "He's a wonderful
guy," Harrison says.
Come on. You say that about all the bachelors.
"No," he says, rocking on his toes. "No, I really don't."
In the world of entertainment, Harrison has a pretty singular job.
Like
Survivor host Jeff Probst and
American Idol's
Ryan Seacrest, Harrison is a celebrity without being a personality.
He is, quite simply, "that guy from
The Bachelor,"
good-looking but not threatening, polite but not a pushover.
Raised in
Dallas, Harrison fit the wholesome middle-American
profile the producers wanted: He married his college sweetheart,
Gwen, at the tender age of 22, and, after Chris's career as an
Oklahoma sportscaster, which he parlayed into a job hosting a
horse-racing network in LA, the couple started a family. "The
producers wanted someone you'd never perceive as hitting on the
women," Chris says. Then he adds, with a wink to his wife, "I do
all that behind the scenes."
Back when he landed the job, reality television was still a
fledgling commodity. The show's creator, Mike Fleiss, had recently
aired what may well be the genre's low point, the disastrous
Who
Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire?
"When he first got the job, I was nervous," admits Gwen, a Southern
beauty who shares her husband's easygoing nature. "I thought, 'What
is this show? Are we gonna be able to show our faces in church
again?' "
She needn't have worried. Now in its eighth season,
The
Bachelor (and its sister show, the three-season-old
The
Bachelorette, which Harrison also hosts) has not only become
one of reality TV's staples, but it has also become part of
America's pop culture vocabulary. You don't have to watch the show
to know its contours. It has been spoofed on
Family Guy,
South Park, and
Saturday Night Live, inspired a slew
of gimmicky spin-offs (including
Joe Millionaire and
Married by America), and netted Harrison gigs such as
hosting the Miss
America pageant and a guest spot on
Six Feet
Under. Despite early controversy - the National Organization of
Women claimed it brought female exploitation to a new low - the
show pales in comparison to such later genre inventions as
The
Swan and
Extreme Makeover. Beside those shows,
The
Bachelor seems almost quaint in its quest to produce, inside
television's peculiar fishbowl, a classic storybook romance. (Even
if it generally turns out more like a soap opera.)
As we chat, Harrison's kids scamper, rosy-cheeked, around the
Trocadéro. It's familiar ground for them; the Harrisons live a few
blocks away, and they often come here after dinner to take a walk
and enjoy some ice cream or a steaming chocolate crepe, which the
kids call a "chocolate taco."
It is the family's first trip to
France, and both Gwen and Chris
marvel at how their children have adjusted. The kids love the
métro. They play with French children who speak no English. They've
taken to
croque monsieurs, a kind of grilled-cheese sandwich
turned inside out; the best, the Harrisons say, are at Cafe du
Trocadero. "And they're obsessed with the Eiffel Tower," Gwen says.
"Hey kids, look!"
At seven p.m. on the dot, as it does every hour, the tower bursts
into sparkles. The kids stop to admire the spectacle, like the
world's most impressive pixie dust.
Afterward, we walk down the winding, cobbled streets, flooded with
warm lamplight, toward dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant. The
Harrisons have become regulars at a handful of restaurants in the
area, like the
Cafe du Trocadero, the only restaurant on the square
with a view of the
Eiffel Tower, and Scossa in Victor Hugo Circle,
where Chris goes if he feels a hankering for American fare, like a
chicken Caesar salad. Tonight we're headed to a mostly-locals
spot called Fra'Diavolo, where the English-speaking maître d'
generally takes their order. This time, however, he's not around,
and when Chris asks the waitress for a wine recommendation in his
halting French, the woman simply goes to the wine cellar and
reappears with a bottle.
"It's …
tres bon?" Chris asks, hopefully.
She nods, expressionless, uncorking the bottle and pouring us each
a glass.
"Well," he says to us, after she leaves, "with that kind of shining
recommendation, how could I refuse?"
Despite his dampened demeanor on
The Bachelor, Harrison is
something of a cutup. "Whenever people meet me, they always say, 'I
thought you'd be so serious!'?" he says. But the solemnity is a
mask, part of the show's endless building of tension, all leading
up to … the final rose. "The final rose" is the climax of each
episode, the moment in which the audience learns who is staying for
the next episode and who may end up in tears back in the van.
Harrison hasn't always been a fan of the phrase.
"Like, do I really have to do the math for America?" he asks. But
it has proven a good way to heighten drama, and it has become the
show's catchphrase. Now, Harrison gets asked to repeat it all the
time. Guys will pull out their cell phones and ask, "Hey, will you
call my girlfriend? Will you tell her this is the final rose?"
Women have become a permanent fixture in Harrison's life since he
began hosting the
Bachelor shows. Says Gwen, "Everyone
always asks me how I handle him being around all these beautiful
women." She smiles as she cuts up Joshua's spaghetti into bite-size
portions. "We've been together so long, though, it doesn't bother
me."
"If it had been our first year of marriage, it might have been
difficult," says Chris, helping Taylor negotiate a straw in her
drink. Chris and Gwen have been married for more than 12 years.
Besides, he adds, "Most of those women? They may be beautiful, but
you wouldn't think so if you spent much time with them."
The Bachelor (and to a lesser extent
The
Bachelorette) has been littered with memorable characters
skewered on their own ambitions. As much as the show might tout
depth and affection, the real delight comes in discovering the
polar opposite. There was Christi, the
Fatal
Attraction-esque basket case from
The Bachelor's second
season. There was last season's Sarah W., who claimed she must have
been kicked off because she was just too pretty.
"At this point in reality television, there are obviously people
looking for their 15 minutes," Harrison says. "But I think a lot of
people come for the adventure. I mean: Hi, we're in Paris. You want
to go to Paris? And if you meet a great guy, what a bonus." At that
point, little Taylor topples off her chair, and Harrison brushes
her off and brings her back to her feet. "One thing I will say
about Paris is that there's a great invention I'd love to bring
here," he says. "It's called the high chair."
There are worse places to be stranded for two months, though. The
Harrisons have a modest flat in a neighborhood equidistant from the
Eiffel Tower and the
Arc de Triomphe. They have settled into
something of a normal Parisian life, starting every morning at the
bakery next door, La Grignotière, a rustic little spot with fresh
croissants and not a single employee who speaks English. "But
they've gotten to know us," says Gwen, "and what I like about it is
that they try to speak English and we try to speak French, and
we've kind of taught each other in that way."
The Harrisons' family experience has been far removed from the lush
vistas, ruddy-cheeked romance, and carousing that will surely be
celebrated on the show. "When you have kids, you don't do the
Louvre," says Chris. "You do the park outside the Louvre." Chris
went to the Musée d'Orsay one afternoon to see the Impressionists'
work, but he waited until a day when his kids were otherwise
occupied. "I stood in line for two hours," he says. "I wouldn't
dream of putting them through that." Instead, Chris and Gwen have
come to regard Fodor's
Around Paris with Kids book as a kind
of bible, far more useful than any
Michelin guide.
They have also found spots they can all agree on. One of their
favorite parks is the Jardin du
Luxembourg, the lush strolling
grounds surrounding the Luxembourg Palace with a special fenced-in
play area in the southwest corner. "There's an admission charge,
but it was worth it," says Chris.
The splendor and size of Notre Dame and Sacré Coeur cathedrals left
the kids' jaws on the floor. After visiting Sacré Coeur, the family
strolled Montmartre, the darling cluster of shops and restaurants
behind the cathedral known for its old-school French charm. "There
are mimes and places to buy ice cream," says Gwen, "so it's a good
way to shop without the kids knowing that's what we're doing."
There's also a cable car carrying passengers to the top, called the
Funiculaire de Montmartre, which the kids treat like a miniature
roller coaster.
"And they love the carousels," says Chris. "We've been on six
different carousels in Paris, which isn't easy."
There was even a man-made carousel in the backyard of the
bachelorettes' château in Houdan, France, a quaint country town.
("Man, I didn't even count that one," says Chris. "We're gonna
change the name from the City of Light to the City of Carousels.")
One day, the family came with him to work, and Chris killed time
until the women arrived playing
soccer with his son on the
expansive lawn. "It was so cool having my family at work," he says,
"in this completely old-school French place with tiny streets."
But the best day they had in the city was a total accident. Chris's
friend told him about a miniature train by the Concorde Hotel and,
after realizing it was a long walk from where they lived, they
decided to give it a try anyway. "So we get on, and the train stops
at this station, and everyone gets off. And we're like, 'Okay, I
guess we're going to get off the train.'?" It could have been a
disaster. Except the stop turned out to be an amusement park, Bois
de Boulogne, on Paris's west side, which Gwen had been trying to
get them to visit.
"I knew about it, but I didn't know where it was," says Gwen. "When
we got there, I thought, 'This is where I wanted to go!'?" They
spent the whole day in the park, eating ice cream and trying out
all the rides. It was the kind of serendipity that only happens in
movies. Or, as it turns out, in Paris.
But with knowing only a handful of French phrases between them,
city living wasn't always easy. "On the first day, I went to the
grocery store," says Gwen. "And I came back after an hour and a
half in tears." Most of that time was spent trying to figure out
how to get a shopping cart, which required a euro deposit. It's
given Gwen, who grew up in
San Antonio and was, according to her
husband, an "Air Force brat," a new perspective on being a
foreigner - and an American. "We've been talking about sending our
kids somewhere to learn a second language when we get back," she
says. "I want that for them, because if you wait too long, you
visit another country and realize, 'I'm the idiot American who
speaks only one language.'?"
At the end of the evening, Chris and Gwen return to their
apartment, and the kids race for the old, creaky elevator - which
they call the lift - and ride it up to the second floor. "This is
another game for them," says Chris. The elevator lumbers to the
next level, as Gwen and Chris saunter up the winding staircase,
beating their kids to the front door. Chris opens the elevator, and
Joshua and Taylor tumble out, giggling.
"Everyone's like, 'I can't believe you're not taking a nanny to
Paris,'?" Chris says later over a glass of wine. "Well, first of
all, we don't have a nanny. We have this really crazy concept of
raising our own kids. Second of all, it's been challenging, but
it's been amazing." Neither Chris nor Gwen traveled much as kids.
But their children have already seen more than Chris had in his
first three decades - not the least of which is living in
Paris.
"To watch them running around the Trocadéro playing tag in front of
the Eiffel Tower …" Chris says, shaking his head. "It may not make
a difference to them, but, as a dad, it makes a big difference to
me. Who knows what they'll remember of this? But I'll always
remember eating a chocolate crepe on the steps of the Eiffel Tower
with my son and daughter."
LIVE LIKE THE LOCALS
Passionate about Paris just like Chris Harrison? On your next
visit, consider renting a furnished apartment to stretch your
travel dollars while enjoying more space and privacy. Hotels in
central Paris average 200 euros a night (about $235), with extra
fees tacked on for taxes, phone calls, and Internet connections,
according to Glenn Cooper, owner of Rentals in Paris, an
apartment-rental company. Besides, he says, "Rooms are often so
small, you can barely walk around the bed."
For a stay of a week or more, furnished flats often cost less and
come with kitchenettes, laundry facilities, and televisions. Many
also include DVD players, local phone service, and high-speed
Internet connections.
Google "apartment rentals Paris" and you'll
find hundreds of choices, ranging from tiny fifth-floor walk-ups
for less than $100 a night to lavish antique-filled apartments in
chic neighborhoods for $880 a night. Discounts are often available
for longer stays and those during the off season.
Families with young children (and small groups traveling together)
appreciate an apartment's sleeper sofas and a kitchen that's
available 24 hours a day. Business travelers also see the
advantages of a home away from home.
Andrew Steven, a London-based
Microsoft executive, opts for a short-term apartment rental over a
hotel whenever Paris business trips run more than a few days. He
says he saves an estimated $750 a week on food and lodging. "Even
after a long day, it's a pleasure to cook what you want - and mix
the drinks the way you prefer," says Steven. Plus, entertaining
business colleagues in an apartment is more interesting than
meeting them in yet another restaurant or bar. "They really
appreciate the difference," he says.
Apartment living means you quickly feel like a Parisian as you get
to know the local butcher, baker, and café owner. "Every time you
go into a bakery to buy a croissant, everyone - including the other
shoppers - will say, 'Bonjour,'?" says Steven, who speaks
"restaurant and taxi" French. "Throwing in a few
mercis and
s'il vous plaits makes things quite smooth."
The Internet provides thousands of apartment-agency listings that
offer virtual tours of properties and the convenience of e-mailed
responses to any questions you might have. Be aware that many of
the largest companies are simply brokers who market properties
managed by someone else and who may not have intimate knowledge
of
all their listings, says
Adrian Leeds, who runs the online
publication
French Property Insider. "Look for a boutique
agency with a small selection of nice apartments and an agent with
firsthand knowledge," she advises. Ask the agent to describe in
detail the apartment's location, amenities, and its cancellation
and payment policies. Be clear about any extra charges for linens,
cleaning, phone, and utilities. Renting directly from an owner is
usually cheaper because there's no agency commission, but Leeds
cautions that it's a riskier proposition. ("What are you going to
do if the hot-water heater breaks and the owner is in the south of
France?") - Elizabeth Pope
Getting Started
If you're interested in established companies, try …
www.franceforrent.com or
(866) 437-2623
www.panacherental.com or
(781) 383-6006
www.parisbyheart.com or
(415) 388-3075
www.rendez-vousaparis.com
www.rothray.com
If you're willing to rent
directly from an owner, try …
France USA Contacts:
www.fusac.fr/en
Vacation Rentals by Owner:
www.vrbo.com
AUTHOR
he said...
where chris harrison and his family make memories in
paris
dining
cafe du trocadero, brasserie,
011-33-1-44-05-37-00
fra'diavolo, italian,
011-33-1-47-27-73-75
la grignotière, bakery,
011-33-1-47-27-90-21
scossa, american-friendly bistro,
011-33-1-45-01-73-67
museums
musée d'orsay,
011-33-1-40-49-48-14,
www.musee-orsay.fr
attractions
bois de boulogne,
011-33-1-40-67-90-82
eiffel tower,
011-33-1-44-11-23-23, www.tour-eiffel.fr
funiculaire de montmartre,
www.ratp.fr
jardin du luxembourg,
www.paris.org/monuments/luxembourg
notre dame,
011-33-1-42-34-56-10,
www.cathedraledeparis.com/en/0.asp
sacré coeur,
011-33-1-53-41-89-00,
www.sacre-coeur-montmartre.com/
we said...
where we make memories in paris
lodging
aberôtel montparnasse, moderate, 011-33-1-40-61-70-50,
www.aberotel-paris-hotel.com. this 28-room aparthotel (similar to
an american all-suite hotel) attracts both business travelers and
vacationing families for two main reasons: its convenient locale
and peaceful, soundproofed rooms.
ideal hotel, inexpensive, 011-33-1-45-79-09-79, www.idealhotelparis.com. the staff at this recently renovated lodging, just a 15-minute walk from the eiffel tower, is so helpful and friendly, you’d think you were staying at one of those four-star joints. in fact, the only time you might know you’re in a bargain hotel is when the bill comes.
dining
la guinguette de l’île du martin-pêcheur, 011-33-1-49-83-03-02, www.guinguette.fr. there’s one word to describe the vibe here: joie de vivre. (okay, that’s three words.) but then, a riverfront setting, lively accordion music, and a bustling dance floor are what define a true guinguette. there’s food, too, but after all that dancing and drinking, we have a hard time remembering what we ate. eel fricassee, was it?
xavier le quéré, inexpensive, 011-33-1-58-10-00-32, www.xavierlequere.com. if dessert is an art, then this place is
the louvre. stocking the display cases is chef/artist xavier le quéré, whose edible masterpieces include raspberry crèmes, pistachio éclairs, and a rocher (flourless chocolate cake) topped with hazelnut mousse that you just have to taste to believe.
events
wine & cheese tastings with harriet welty rochefort, www.hwelty.com. don’t understand the french? (and we’re not just talking about the language barrier here.) then head on over to harriet and her husband philippe’s lovely garden apartment for a lively discussion regarding french customs, qualities, and quirks. harriet, a longtime resident and the author of french toast and french fried, puts out a plentiful spread, too, highlighting a dozen or so french wines and cheeses. their next get-together is scheduled for february 9; check their website for future dates.
nightlife
new morning,
011-33-1-45-23-51-41,
www.newmorning.com. while jazz has its fans in the
united states, the french consider it right up there with jerry lewis. the monthly lineup at this decades-old club may be one of the reasons why.