Plog - (n.) Paris blog, (v.) to blog about Paris, either by video or text
We plogged a lot while we were in Paris, so expect an awesome video or two within the next week or two (after I finish my final Pécs video). Rhaelynn was actually pretty good about putting up with the videography, and even participated and filmed me a few times. It was a nice change from people ceasing activity when they notice the red light.
Day Two was Versailles. I was really stressed out initially at the thought of us returning to the hostel, because we went there in the morning to drop off our luggage since we were to stay there that night. The luggage room wasn’t even locked. And they were really confusing with our room assignments and initially said we’d be separated, which I didn’t feel comfortable with at all. Have I mentioned that I hate Friends Hostel?
We took a light green metro line to its end, connected to RER C, took it to a place where it split, got off, got back on a different RER C and made it to Versailles by lunchtime. Turns out you can buy a day pass for about 7 euro, which was a really good deal and served us well.
Versailles was beautiful. Rhaelynn thought it was gaudy, and I can understand why, but it was still amazing to behold. We were both hungry though, and we saw the long lines to get in and decided that we needed to get lunch first. I ended up having to drag her in to a Franco-Italian place because she was being affected by her low blood sugar to the point where she was just kind of moving down streets oblivious to the numerous restaurants around her. It ended up being amazing. I got garlic pasta and she got something with chicken, cheese, and pasta. They also served us bread with spicy olive oil. And we shared chocolate mousse for dessert that was utterly delicious. I unfortunately do not remember the name of this restaurant, but it was medievally decorated, a bit expensive but worth it, and located kind of near a marketplace. Oh, and I had some delightful mint tea.
So, back to Versailles. At the information desk, I was told that my Hungarian residency permit could actually get me in for free if I also showed them my student card. So that saved us about 18 euro. Awesome. It was really crowded, though. That’s probably because we went on a Sunday [as we were leaving, a guard stopped us because we looked miserable and asked if we were okay (Rhaelynn was limping because her shoes hurt her feet so much), and he said we should’ve come on a Tuesday]. People could rent a little headset thing that would allow you to do a self-guided tour, basically, and we didn’t buy one. Everyone else did, though, so we’d be trapped in a room with a bunch of people standing around listening to stuff and we couldn’t get out because it was so crowded. It really took away from the experience because I just generally hate crowds and get a bit claustrophobic, and Rhaelynn just felt like she needed to get out of there. It was disappointing, though, because there was an exhibit of really cool scientific curiosities that I would’ve liked to actually see, but I could only catch glimpses of astronomical equipment and random inventions through the crowds of people. It was the same situation in most of the Chateau, actually. It was hard for me to appreciate it because most of the rooms looked like someone had shoved as much random stuff in there as possible so we’d have to look at it, like it’d been turned into the museum. The Hall of Mirrors was ruined that way, with thrones of old placed everywhere. I think it would’ve been better for us to see Versailles the way it was lived in. When we got to the Dauphin’s quarters, that’s how it was, and it was much more enjoyable. I like seeing how people lived and how the multitude of rooms was actually used and what paintings were actually there originally. And Rhaelynn just thought the whole thing was a waste of money and space. The gardens, though, were lovely. If it was nicer out that day and if Rhaelynn’s shoes weren’t breaking her feet, it would’ve been nice to take a stroll through them.
The rest of the day was really just a bunch of metro exploration. We probably traveled on every metro line of Paris. I think there are 13. We were going to go to a teahouse but it was closed by the time we made it back to the city center. We instead sought out Berthillion’s, an ice cream shop Rhaelynn had read about, and it was delicious. I got chocolate ice cream that was too much for me to handle, and she tried mocha and vanilla. In an attempt to try out French cuisine, which honestly terrifies me, we tried to go to Robert et Louise, which was in my guidebook, but we couldn’t find it. We spent almost an hour looking for it but just kept ending up at the Bastille. It was just as well because neither of us were really hungry.
Back at the hostel, we discovered that we would be in the same room, thank goodness, and we went in to see who we’d be staying with. There were a bunch of people speaking either Spanish or Portuguese, and they didn’t have much to say to us besides telling us which two beds were open. We got the two closest to the random old man. Yes, you see, there was an aged man sleeping in the bed right next to mine, the bed under Rhaelynn, and it was weird. I don’t know why he was there, but every time we were at the hostel (which honestly was as little as we could manage, because we tried to avoid it), he was just in that bed, sleeping or pretending to sleep.
Leaving the room because we felt awkward, we sat in the only common area of the hostel- a courtyard with deck furniture. Classy, I know. We met two Americans from Syracuse University, both of which were studying film production, and talked for a while about our experiences in Paris so far. They were in Paris for Spring Break, and had been banished to the hotel their first nights, too. I was hungry, as it was after 10 PM and I hadn’t eaten dinner, but Rhaelynn wasn’t and most places were closed so there was no point seeking any real food. Our fellow Americans recommended the Quick across the street. Quick is the French version of McDonald’s, apparently. It felt very awkward ordering French fries in France. I was afraid they’d get offended or something. The meal was decent, and indeed comparable to McDonald’s. It was still creepy though because we had to cross the dreaded corner of sketchy men to get there and back.
Sleeping that night was basically impossible. Many people in that room were snoring. One of them sounded like a cross between a braying donkey and a cat being bathed. My earplugs did not help.
Unsurprisingly, I was in a miserable mood the next morning, because I can’t exist without sleep. We bought a French baguette, butter, and nutella, and also stopped at a fruit stand for some awesome grapes. It was a healthy whole grain baguette, too. Still, though, we went back to the hostel to eat, and the deck furniture was wet and crowded, and my mood was thus reinforced. Friends Hostel was the cheapest in Paris, and I guess you get what you paid for, but so much of what they advertised was misleading. At least the beds were clean. But there was no soap anywhere. Ew. Luckily, Rhaelynn had hand sanitizer…
So, the first stop of the day was a park. If I remember correctly, it was called Park Monceau. We walked around it and sat on benches and relaxed and enjoyed the flowers and trees for over an hour. It made me feel a bit better.
We tried to go to the Catacombs, because I really wanted to go there. 6 million dead Parisians- who wouldn’t? But it was Monday, and so the place was closed. It seems that lots of things in Paris are closed on Mondays. That made it hard to find lunch. It seems that just eating bread for breakfast is not good, because this time I was the one that needed to be dragged into a restaurant. It worked out well in Versailles but not so much this time. First criterion was a menu subtitled in English, and second was food that I’d find edible. That was difficult. We finally settled for a café that claimed to have French fries. They came in a pot. They were really just mushy potato sticks- inedible and expensive. Rhaelynn got a fancy and huge salad that was rather French. I also got a burger, but it had slices of pig on top that they called bacon, and some mystery burger sauce that seemed to be pink mayonnaise. Also inedible. I scraped off everything repulsive and ate what I could, which was enough to satisfy my immediate need for food. I also drank a 4 euro coke. 4 euro. For a coke. I can’t believe I spent that much money at that restaurant, but the people working there were really nice and the atmosphere was pleasant and it’s not like I had any other options.
Next, we went to the Louve and the Tulieries. I just wanted to see the outside of the Louve, which was gorgeous, because I don’t think I could handle an art museum that huge, and besides, Rhaelynn wasn’t interested in huge museums or art or tourism locations. We sat for a while in the garden, where people were forbidden from walking on grass, and were going to go to a small free museum with some stuff by Monet, but by then it was too late because it would’ve been closed.
We decided to find Robert et Louise since we failed at that endeavor the day before. Walking along the river, a man approached Rhaelynn and started speaking to her in French. He was surprised that she was American and then told her that she was beautiful and he wanted to get to know her better. I thought this was hilarious, because yet again, she was approached by a random man, but this one was nice. It was also funny because she wants to live in Paris one day and ideally marry a rich Frenchman so she can just ride horses. We asked him for help finding the road of the restaurant, and he made fun of us for not knowing how to use the map, but then he couldn’t find it either. So we talked for a few minutes. He’s studying at the Pierre and Marie Curie Institute (I think that’s what it was called…), and pretended to be interested in literature because we’re both English majors. For the goodbye, he was cute, and told Rhaelynn that maybe it would’ve worked in another life, and asked her if she’d remember him. And then he did that European goodbye kiss thing. Alfonso does it, too, and I’m always confused as to which side you’re supposed to do first. And the Parisian thought it was weird that Americans don’t kiss the air next to your check on either side as a greeting or farewell, and he said that now we know how to French kiss. That was funny, and Rhaelynn said that isn’t what French kissing is in America, and he apparently knew what she meant and laughed and asked if she’d like to make a memory of French kissing a Frenchman in France, and she politely declined and we went our separate ways as I struggled to contain my laughter.
We finally found the restaurant. It was closed. Our feet were killing us and by this point we each had some fully formed blisters. I was really hungry and we decided to go try to see the Luxembourg gardens before eating. We had to take an RER to get there, and then we found that it was closed, because it was nighttime. Finally, we made it back to the hostel area and bought some dinner ingredients at a grocery store to just cook in the hostel kitchen. The hostel kitchen was gross, by the way. We had to scrape gunk off the utensils and wash everything extra. Also, when you buy a jar of sauce that says tomato and basil, that does not mean that those are the only two ingredients. It just means that there is so much basil that you can’t taste the other ingredients. It was kind of disgusting. We talked with our fellow Americans for a while, while everyone else in the courtyard was getting drunk from beer and tequila and was singing songs in other languages so loudly that the hostel people came and shut it down. The website of the hostel said there was no curfew, but all common areas were closed at 10 PM each night, which was disappointing because that left us stuck in the room with the old man. Our other roommates had left that day, I guess, because it was just us and the man. I slept well because there was now no snoring, but Rhaelynn apparently was up all night, afraid that he was going to knife us in our sleep.
The next morning, we bought another baguette for breakfast, but the hostel people got mad at us for trying to sit at the table to eat because they were “cleaning.” They swept and sneezed on stuff but didn’t really wipe anything down. Cleaning should’ve happened when they kicked us out last night, in my opinion, because it makes more sense to do that stuff when people are already gone. And apparently people aren’t allowed to be in the rooms between 10 AM and 3 PM because that’s when they clean beds and all the rooms, so that also would’ve been a good time to clean up. They make people check out at 9 am, and it was about 8:15 at that point, so I was a bit annoyed that they were cutting into our schedule illogically and rudely.
Friends Hostel is just gross, honestly. I’d never stay there again. It was cheap, but it was the one thing about the trip that caused all of the miserableness. The reviews on hostelbookers.com even warned us of much of the things we experienced, but I didn’t believe them because they seemed so acidic. I never believe reviews, generally. But these ones were correct. Rhaelynn and I are going to review the hostel together, and do it honestly and be candid and detailed. It was a hostile hostel, in her words.
I don’t remember much of the trip back because I was exhausted. I did buy crispy M&M’s from an airport shop, though, which was exciting because I haven’t seen those in the US in years.
I’m still really tired, and I didn’t go to class today because I woke up with a fever and sore throat and stuff, probably from all of the germs in the hostel or airplanes. Oh, and my purse broke the third day so I need to go buy another one at some point.
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