Ooh La La, Parieee! (Day 2)

So it is Tuesday, the 19th of February and I’m wide awake come 1:30 AM. As you may recall from yesterday’s blog, I was home early and was in bed by 10 PM. Since I’ve only had three and a half hours at this point, I figure I’ll fall back asleep until my 4:00 AM alarm. No such luck. After two more hours of attempts, I crawl out of bed at 3:45 and start my preparations for my day trip into Paris, France.

I decided to stay at a hostel for my two first nights because no trains or buses run so early in the AM from Lizzy’s and a taxi was more expensive than my two nights across the road from St. Pancras International - the station that houses the Eurostar, my train bound for Paris.


4:20 AM







I gotta admit, I was expecting a fairly luxe train since this train takes me to Paris, goes through the chunnel, and it isn’t actually that cheap, but it was rather shoddy. I’ve been spoiled by the shinkansen in Japan.





It was a decently smooth ride, so no real complaints. I had an interesting Japanese fellow sitting beside me with a long ponytail – he seemed like a real arty bird. He started the journey by studying a fashion pamphlet; each picture for an excessive amount of time. He then wrote haikus on his laptop for a while. After that, he whipped out a notebook and looked real intense as he drew shapes on each page. I’m talking squares with an extra line here and there. He was really concentrating. I was very amused.

After we emerged out of the chunnel, we were in France and dawn had arrived.


Voila! Actually, I thought I was in Manitoba again, just like when I first saw Japan. What is up with the world all looking the same?

I arrived in Paris at 8:55 AM and was scheduled to start a tour at 9:30 AM near the Eiffel Tower, which is a half hour away. This gave me a pretty tight window in which to bust off one train and onto the metro. As soon as the Eurostar doors open at Gare du Nord, I’m off like a shot. I get to the metro and stand in line for a ticket at the ticket machine. It’s my turn – the machine is in French. Boo! I figure I can navigate it enough to buy a ticket. After punching a bunch of buttons, I get a prompt to insert 1,50€. I grab my 10,00€ bill and search for a slot to insert it – no luck, change only. I’ll just go chat with a ticket agent to even make sure I am buying the right ticket and pay with my bill. After finding the ticket booth, I note that the queue is 100 people strong and is not moving. Ack! Okay, so I’ll just bust back to the ticket machine and use my credit card. The lineups at the machine are getting longer since it is 9:00 AM and people are on their way to work and the Eurostar just dumped off hundreds. I queue up and wait for another five minutes before it’s my turn again. I’ll just buy a day pass so I don’t have to go through this again. I punch some different French buttons this time and I ask the lady behind me if this is a day pass. She doesn’t speak English, so I just decided that it is correct and jam my credit card in. It just spits it right back out at me since it is not a European card with a chip in it. Blast! I figure I’ll try the ticket agent again. The 100 people queue hasn’t moved with 20 new bodies joining. It is now 9:15 AM and I have 15 minutes to take a half an hour journey to a tour which I’ve already paid a $100 to take. My mind racing, I decide that I will just go buy some gum and get change and buy a single ticket. With my new change, I run back to the machines which has now been reduced to one machine since the other has decided to crash. The lineup is about 10 people long and is not moving. I want to cry. Some cute boy starts rambling off to me in French. Upon seeing my confused expression he asks something like, “Vous ne parle Francais?” I know this and nod furiously and he smiles. Ten minutes later (9:25 AM) I make it to the machine and notice two little flags in the top right hand corner – Italy and the UK. I hit the UK flag and bang – English! I buy a single ticket and hope that it will get me to the Eiffel Tower and run all the way to my train. I grab the nearest seat and notice that my bag is wide open since my zipper has ran off the track. I immediately start to worry I’ve been pick-pocketed. Still shaking in panic, I start furiously working to fix my zipper. I arrive at the station to change trains and I head to the next gate and insert my ticket. It spits it right back and it make and starts blaring loudly. I shoved it again and the same thing happened. Adrenaline kicks in and I ram my body through the gate and onto the next train. I finally arrive at the Dupleix station and run to the office that the tour is starting from. It is 9:45 and I’m just praying that I haven’t missed it. The American ladies at the front welcome me and tell me the rest of the group hasn’t arrived back yet from the Eiffel Tower so I should just have a seat and relax. Praise the Lord.

The tour I went on was on segways! I had never ridden on before and I must admit – I was probably more excited to get my hands on the segway than seeing Paris.




Me with my segway

After our intro session, we headed out down to Champ de Mars (the Eiffel Tower park)


I thought someone had painted the sky. So surreal!




Eiffel Tower with the Peace Monument. The monument will only be completed when peace has been achieved. So, it will be a while.


Ecole Militaire, Napoleon Bonaparte’s old stomping grounds.


Free toilets


The church at Les Invalides built in 1676. Also, Napoleon’s tomb is located here. Apparently they have positioned it so that in order to see it, you have to bow down or look up – paying your respects. I didn’t want to, so I didn’t go in. You can see a small portion of the moat here in the foreground – it used to be filled with not water, but sewage.


Hotel des Invalides


Esplanade des Invalides and the Pont Alexandre III


Esplanade des Invalides

The Pont Alexandre III (bridge) is the most famous in Paris and has been used in numerous movies and advertisements. It is very ornate.








River Seine












The fountain from the end of “The Devil Wears Prada” where Anne Hathaway threw her phone. Also, the Hôtel Crillon.


This lady on the far left was pulling the gold ring scam where the Lord apparently drops a ring for you and she wants money for it. Boo.




L’Obelisque in Place de la Concorde


Jardin des Tuileries


This monument is made of used cannons


Looking down Champs-Élysées - L’Obelisque and the Arc de Triomphe from the Louvre


Louvre


Also, Louvre




What a dork

After the tour was done, I decided to head back to the Eiffel Tower and take the adventure skyward.


French men playing Bocce in Champ de Mars






Impeccable French tree engineering


One of the few English-friendly signs at the Eiffel Tower




Whee!




The view from the second floor…but I’m not stopping here.




Champ de Mars to the southeast


River Seine to the southwest


Place du Trocadero to the west


North view


Arc de Triomphe to the North


Basilique du Sacre-Coeur (Sacred Heart)




On top of the world! Or the Eiffel Tower, at least.


The Louvre to the east




L’Eiffel du Garbage


Can you see the reflection of the excited Japanese man with the video camera who was exclaiming “Yokohama! Yokohama!”?

After I was sick of people and line-ups to go up, down, and sideways in the tower, I made my way down and began to retrace my steps to the places I went on my segway tour. Since I had some difficulty finding the metro, I ended up walking back down to Place de la Concorde to do some shopping for souvenirs.


Simba! I didn’t know the French loved “The Lion King” so much.


If you squint, doesn’t it look like he’s coming for me?


Angelina is a café that Audrey Hepburn used to frequent. It looked very posh.


Hotel Meurice is where the Nazis set up office during their French occupation. It has since been reverted back to a hotel (natch).

With my feet ready to do a revolt, I hopped on the metro to take it up Champs-Élysées to the Arc de Triomphe. This time, buying a ticket was equally unsuccessful as the gates would not open again…and again I thrusted through. Did I mention that it is a 50,00€ fine for doing that? I managed to evade such capture again.






Paris: The most romantic city in the world.

Reaching 5:00, I started to get hungry. I found this restaurant called ‘Quick Burger’ and saw they had a three-cheese salad, which looked appetizing. I headed inside to enter a battle zone between the black girl working at the counter with a group of other black girls who were (I think) customers. Hectic yelling in French ensued until the fat white lady who appeared to be the supervisor kicked the girls out. The screaming worker returned to the till to take orders and I was slightly worried there would be some screaming at me too. I ordered my three-cheese salad (in English) and she nodded and punched it in. She grabbed a massive paper bag and started throwing a bunch of napkins and forks and knives in it. Eek! This can’t be right. I mustered up as much French as I could and said, “Non! Une, trois-fromage! Une trois-fromage!” She thought I wanted three number one meals. I was hoping three-cheese meant maybe cheddar, mozzarella and maybe feta or something. I was gravely wrong. It was funky, heavy, sweat-tasting cheese which I couldn’t make myself eat. What a waste.




Gout. For you, Q.


”Bob L’Eponge, Bob L’Eponge, Bobbbbbbb L’Eponge!” (to the tune of Spongebob Squarepants)

It was starting to get dark, so I decided it was time to try out shopping on the most famous shopping avenue in the world, Champs-Élysées.









Coming out empty-handed, I attempted one last ride on the metro, up to the Montmartre area (read: red-light district) to see the Moulin Rouge. Again, it hated me and my ticket and jamming through once again occurred. I hate Paris metro.








Ah, sexy souvenirs. Just what I was looking for.

So after a long and tiring day in Paris, the customs lady to head back to London found it particularly important to patronize me for traveling to the UK (“You seem to travel to the UK lots...isn’t there anywhere else in the world you want to visit?!?) What a b. Anyways, the I slept most of the way home and crashed in my bunk when I arrived back in English-speaking London. I love English. Day two, in the can. I’m exhausted and stressed just recalling this day…please continue to read the following blogs in London. Much more to come!