Paris, part 1: Arrival, Tourism, and Strange Men

I have now been to my first Western European country- France.

And it was mostly awesome.

When people say that Budapest is the Paris of Eastern Europe, I really don’t understand why.  Budapest is so obviously post-communist, while Paris is quite the opposite.  Other opposites include the general attitude of the population, the culture and arts, and attitude towards tourists/Americans. 

Dani thinks it’s because of the geographic centrality to the region.  Beats me.

Be warned- this post will be rather long.  I’ll try to break it up with photos eventually, but I may need to take a trip to McDonald’s for decent enough wi-fi to manage that.

So, I didn’t pack at all the night before, but I did make a list.  Go me.  Therefore, I got up at 5 AM to pack the next morning.  Little did I know that this was the beginning of a pattern of sleep deprivation.

Rhaelynn and I met at Jazai Mari Ter, our tram stop, to go one stop down where the train station is.  Apparently, Rhaelynn had told Caitlin B that she could meet us there, because she was also going to the airport.  Julie showed up first, to our surprise, to figure out how to get to the airport, where she’d have to pick up her sister the next day.  And Caitlin was late so we had to take a later train.  Not a huge deal because the airport is only 20 minutes away, but I hate not being early to places, so I was a bit stressed out. 

The train was crowded.  We managed to get off at the right place, but once we walked the short distance to Terminal 1, we got on the wrong bus to get to Terminal 2.  So we got off as soon as we realized that and had to trek back along the side of the highway to get back to the airport, and Rhaelynn’s suitcase broke.  Finally, we got on the correct bus, and it turns out that there was a bus stop right next to our train station.  Go figure.

Once at Terminal 2, Julie left.  The rest of us checked in and I got my US dollars converted to Euros.  I immediately felt like I was broke.  I hate the Euro.  It’s so expensive.

The flight to Frankfurt was nice enough.  Lufthansa is a good airline, but honestly, I think all European airlines are just better than American ones.  They give you good food.  Well, it’s nothing I liked, but I could tell it was much better quality than American airplane peanuts and pretzels. 

Finding a departure board in Frankfurt was strangely difficult.  We finally figured out where to go, and then accompanied Caitlin to her terminal, since her flight to Rome departed an hour before ours.  I was really hungry, as it was past lunchtime, so I bought a frankfurter and a brochen.  And I ate it with German mustard.  I ate a frankfurter in Frankfurt! 

So anyway, Caitlin left, and I was a bit worried about her going off to Rome all by herself, but according to Facebook, she had a wonderful time.  I’m interested to hear from her how it was, what she did, etc.

Our flight to Paris was delayed because the plane was late getting in from Sweden.  I entertained myself by reading free newspapers with old news while Rhaelynn attempted to sleep on the table.

Finally, on the plane, I’m stuck between Rhaelynn and this man who hits me in the arm everytime he turns the page in his French newspaper.  Drove me crazy until he relocated to an empty row. 

And then we arrived in Paris!!

I darted onto the shuttle at the last minute, and the doors closed, separated me and Rhaelynn as I got whisked away to our intended destination of RER B, a train we needed to take to get into the city.  After reuniting, we bought a book of 10 metro tickets, but turns out they don’t work for the RER so we had to buy another ticket.  It wasn’t an issue because we figured they’d work once we actually got in the city.

On the RER, I nearly fell on the floor as I tried to sit down on a seat that folded back up right after I pushed it down.  That was fun.  It was cool being able to catch glimpses of the city from the train, at least when it wasn’t underground. 

We got off at Gare du Nord to transfer to metro line 4, when all of a sudden I notice some strange man talking to Rhaelynn, asking a lot of questions.  I thought he was trying to distract us so someone else could come steal our purses or something, so I kept a close eye out.  I think he was actually just trying to get into the metro station without a ticket, but once he started getting really creepy, telling Rhaelynn that he wanted to be her friend and asking where we were staying, I pulled her into a shop as she hastily bid him farewell.  Rhaelynn later told me that he’d been on the RER with us, watching her for some of the trip.  Ew.

That wouldn’t be the first time she got hit on by random men, though.  Stay tuned.

We stay on the 4 only for one stop, getting off at Barbes-Rouchechuard or something like that.  I surely did not spell that correctly.  By this time, it was dark.  Friends Hostel was right off the stop, though, which was a relief because we were exhausted. 

We were also a bit scared, though.  Or at least, I was.  On the corner of the street was a large group of men trying to sell us cigarettes and making catcalls.  Walking quickly and avoiding eye contact, we entered the hostel with relief, only to be told that there was construction occurring that would render our room unsafe for the next two nights.  Looking around, the hostel actually looked to be pretty occupied, and I’m fairly certain they just overbooked us.  So, the man gave us directions to Hotel Montmartrois, which he said was owned by the same people in charge of the hostel.

We set off with our luggage down the street, past the creepy men, and ventured off into the night.  I was really annoyed, because they didn’t give us advance notice or offer a taxi or anything.

It took us two hours to find the hotel.  Why? Because the directions sucked.  They did not include an address, so when we asked people on the street for help, they couldn’t tell us much, although they were very nice.  We walked up and down the street right next to the street of the hotel for some time before Rhaelynn asked a homeless man for help.  I didn’t know he was homeless until Rhaelynn told me later; I just thought he was drunk, but he was very helpful.  He called over another guy to look at our map, and then random Parisians kept stopping to help, too, until someone told us to literally turn left and it was there, hidden on a cobblestone side street that was actually rather beautiful. 

We hated Friends Hostel at this point, though.  Hotel Montmartrois was actually nice, which was good considering we were spending two nights there.  However, they gave us only one bed.  We had paid the hostel for two.  Rhaelynn went down to the front desk to ask for a second room or an air mattress or an extra pillow, and they gave us a sheet.  And they explained how to use it, as if we don't have sheets in America.

We went back out to explore a little bit, because with our luggage, we hadn’t really been paying attention to what was around to do.  I was hungry and wanted food, so we stopped at a convenience store and I got Coke Light, Pringles, and some French cookies.  Not the healthiest dinner, but it was really our only option because nearly everything was closed and the hotel didn’t have a microwave or anything.  We also paid to use an internet kiosk, because I had no cell phone reception and hadn’t yet told my parents I’d made it safely.

The next morning, we woke up rather tired from the long day before and a night of restless sleep from us being together in a bed smaller than a full size.  But breakfast was good.  The hotel provided croissants, bread, butter and marmalade, and hot drinks.  I had some amazing tea and discovered a love for real French croissants. 

The first item on our agenda for the day was to find the meeting spot for Sandeman’s New Paris tour, which was free.  We ended up in Pigalle, which is the sex district.  It was strange- there were families with small children just walking down the street, passing sex shops and sketchy bars and even an erotic art museum.  After navigating out of there, we made it to Notre Dame, but that was the wrong place to go, too.  I suppose that was my fault for not remembering the directions clearly.  So, no free tour for us.

Instead, we wandered around.  Whenever we saw something that looked cool, either on the map or in the distance, we just went there.  As a result, I have a lot of photos of things I can’t identify, but it was still really cool.  We ended up in a garden behind Notre Dame, and there were flowers!! It was so nice, considering we left Hungary in wintery weather and arrived in Paris in Spring. 

We walked along the river, entered Notre Dame and explored it a bit (which I absolutely loved but Rhaelynn didn’t, because she hates tourists and places that tourists go), saw a cool tower thing, rode a carousel, and stumbled upon a really good café for lunch.  The man working there spoke English but tried to teach us a few French words.  And I tried new things! I bought some kind of pasta I couldn’t identify, a chocolate cake thing, and Orangina to drink, which Rhaelynn got a panini, a lemon tart, and water.  We tried each other’s food.  I didn’t like my pasta at first but then I did.  And my cake was awesome.  And her tart was not to my liking.  And oh my gosh was that Orangina delicious!  It became my French obsession.

After that, we did some more random stuff.  There was an archaeological crypt under Notre Dame that we ventured into, and it ended up being free.  It was cool and kind of reminded me of Pécs.  We also went to the Pantheon.  I tried to get in for free using my Hungarian residency permit, because most places are free to EU residents under the age of 26.  But no, they guy saw I was actually American and made me pay 5 euro to get in.  Rhaelynn didn’t enjoy it much- she thought it was a waste of space.  I thought it was beautiful but a bit disappointing, because it’s one of those things that you always hear about and are supposed to go see, but really, I don’t know what it’s purpose is.  We went underground and saw the tombs of people like Voltaire.  We got shushed by some guards for apparently being too loud, but in our defense, the crypt was echoey and our sounds were amplified.  And we saw Foucault’s pendulum.  We also sat in a random park for a while, which was beautiful, but nearly everyone there was eating McDonald’s.
 

Back at the hotel, I fell asleep while Rhaelynn looked at the map and the Paris section of my guidebook.  I had a nice nap, but was hungry when I woke up and so we decided to go eat in the hotel’s restaurant.  It looked closed, though, and as Rhaelynn and I were arguing over who would go in to ask if we could get food there, we heard a guy ask us which state we’re from.  That is how we met Steven, the guy from Texas who was in Paris to join the French Foreign Legion.  We talked for a while, and then Rhaelynn invited him to join us for dinner, and we set off to find a restaurant from my guidebook called, Breakfast in America.  It’s an American-style diner in Paris.  You may think this is a bit of a cop-out, but we were very interested to see what Europeans thought of American food.  It took over an hour to find the place, which was on a side street around Rue Rivoli, but it was fun exploring because we saw some really cute streets and pretty cafes.  Finally arriving, we see that the place is tiny and we had to wait outside for a spot to open up where we could be seated.  I ate an amazing cheeseburger, Rhaelynn got banana pancakes (she was really excited because in Hungary, pancakes always are actually just crepes), and Steven just drank espresso. 

After that, we went to Basilique du Sacre Coeur.  We basically got to make like mountain goats and hike up a steep cobblestone path, followed by lots of stairs.  It was illuminated and therefore looked amazing in the night.  There were guards with big guns, which was weird, but there was also an amazing view of the city.  We saw the Eiffel Tower from there, as well as a bunch of other landmarks.  I took a photo for some people, got separated from Rhaelynn and Steven, and then found them again.  Rhaelynn had apparently met another forward man, who asked her lots of questions and wanted to know if she was in Paris alone. 

Our journey back down was also eventful, as at the bottom of a different set of stairs, we were accosted by a group of Guinean men.  Rhaelynn and I escaped as Steven was caught by one of them.  They do this thing where they ask you to hold a piece of string, on which they proceed to make a bracelet, put it on you, and expect payment.  I was not interested.  The one thing about Paris that really bothers me is people trying to sell me stuff I don’t want, or people providing a service I didn’t ask for and then expecting me to pay for it, like the people that sing or play instruments on the metro.  With the musicians, I usually would give them a couple coins if they were good or fun or nice, but these Guineans would just not take no for an answer.  That’s how Rhaelynn got hooked; they followed us as we waited for Steven down the street.  I was the only one of us not being tied up, and therefore I had no chance either, because it’s not like I could go off by myself and leave them there.  The first guy actually tried to grab my hand after I said no multiple times and multiple ways, and I firmly told him not to touch me.  He backed off, calling me names and saying I was a “dirty, ugly girl” and a “bad American.”  One of his buddies had the nerve to come up to me after that and sweet talk me, but at that point I knew it was pointless to resist because they’d just keep coming, so I finally let someone make a bracelet for me.  He said, “Hakuna Matata” and started complimenting America way too much.  He was almost nice, but I was such a mindset that I didn’t believe a word of it.  I don’t know- perhaps they actually meant what they said about wanting to come to America and how much they like Obama and how wonderful my country is.  But then again, maybe he just wanted money.  When he asked for 20 euro for the string bracelet, I got annoyed and basically said, “Hell no” and Rhaelynn and Steven came to my rescue and said they’d paid 2, so that’s what I paid as well. 

On the way back to the hotel, we walked down some amazing cobblestone streets with cafes and bars and art shops and general French cuteness, and then stopped at the convenience store near the hotel.  I bought a 2-liter of Orangina and it was amazing.



Paris, part 2, coming soon.