I had promised my mom a blog entry each day I was gone on my trip. Turns out, each night I was too tired or busy to actually sit down and write. Instead, as I went through each day, if something struck me as funny or interesting, I’d make a note of it in my iPhone Notepad. If I had time and wasn’t drunk on a train, I’d take a few minutes to jot a thing or two down. And if I was waiting at an airport or on a flight, and found myself inspired, I’d write a little. So basically, this is just a random collection of funny thoughts and amusing stories about my trip. I figured this is better than nothing.
Here goes:
Paris:
1. I love my hotel in Paris. It is called the De la Paix on Rue Raspial. My friend Jay stayed here a month before me, and recommended it. Actually, correction: Insisted. Good call Jay! I loved this hotel, and it was in a great location. The elevator was large enough for one person and one suitcase, and only stopped on every other floor. My room was on the first floor (which in Paris is actually what we would call the 2nd floor) so I had to take the elevator to 2 and then walk down a flight of stairs to get to my room. The hotel was 115 Euros a night, or about $160 a night. This was my most expensive lodging during the trip, and that is to be expected. It is in Paris, after all! The only bad thing was the hair dryer in the room had about as much output as a 4 year old blowing on your hair might. I spent most of the week with a wet pony tail or a hat on.
2. They speak so quietly here, it is hard to hear them. But it sure makes it easier to pick an American out of a crowd!
3. Wow these people know how to dress! A few notes about Paris fashion:
• Everyone is wearing purple!
• All the men carry purses. Excuse me, satchels.
• Am I the only person in this country with a pony tail?
• Am I the only person in this country with a bright green jacket?
• Are there any woman in this country NOT wearing a thick pair of tights?
• Are there any woman in this country not wearing a pair of flat boots?
• The only jeans are skinny jeans.
• The men all roll their jean cuffs up. I know, I know… it brings back bad memories from the 80’s. But be prepared; it’s coming back!
• SCARVES: I would like to explain that scarves are a pretty big deal here. They are sold everywhere. Sometimes, 4 for 10 Euros. Sometimes, 1 scarf for 20 Euros, or more. Depends on which side of town you’re on. Anyway, everyone has a scarf on, whether it is nice outside or not. Even the men wear scarves. Teenage boys seem to wear them in the worst fashion mistake I’ve seen since I’ve been here… they wear them in this dorky triangle, around their shoulder. It looks like a cowboy bandana that has fallen down a bit. Really stupid looking. Parents take heed: if Europe is ahead of us in fashion, sooner then you want to believe it, your sons will want to wear scarves that make them look half cowboy, half fancy-pants. They have fringes too, which makes it worse. I’ve seen scarves on heads, as belts draped around a waste, tied to a purse. On men, I have seen them with suits, with casual clothes, under blazers and in one case, on a man jogging down the street in running attire.
• If I have seen a Parisian in tennis shoes, they are embellished in some way. They are gold, or those canvis shoes in pink or blue, to match the purse.
• Boots. Ankle height, calf height, knee height, thigh height, and in one case I saw over in LaHolla area, the alligator-type boots turned themselves into pants,
4. I was always impressed by the London Tube. However, after experiencing the Metro in Paris, I understand a very clear difference. The Tube is way down low… waaaaayyyyy underground. To make a simple change, you sometimes have to undergo several escalators, winding stairs and god knows what else. Despite this, it is still a very efficient form of travel in London… however oftentimes; I remember thinking that I could have gotten to my destination quicker by walking there above ground. But in Paris, there is usually just a small flight of stairs and “Wha-lah” you are there.
5. Paris café’s are intimidating, and their menus even more so. Many travel shows tell you to go “off the beaten path” and find restaurants with menus that are not in English, but I ask you this: If you do this, how in the hell are you going to order? The Parisians do not like to speak English, and I most certainly do not want to end up with Escargot!
6. In Paris, I was staying in a very quaint neighborhood called “Montparnasse” I loved my neighborhood, and everything, including the Metro, was within a few feet of the front door to my hotel. One night I decided to head up the street to find a place to indulge in a couple of beers. Somehow the Irish music spilling out onto the sidewalks from an Irish pub was calling my name. Leave it to me to find an Irish pub in Paris. It was the picture of the perfect Irish pub. Dark and dingy, the smell of stale beer, fun-loving people and a bartender wearing a Santa hat. I grabbed a corner bar stool and sat back to watch the action. Soon, a couple of Parisian actors sat next to me, and we started talking. By now, I had been in Paris long enough to know not to tell people that I am American. They snub Americans. In retrospect I don’t think these guys would have, but as an experiment, I decided to tell them that I am Canadian, just to see if it made a difference. Soon, we were great friends, and the one who spoke the most English was telling me how happy he was to be able to practice his English skills. The other one could only say swear words in English, so he and I had an entire 5 minute conversation in swear words. That was fun. He knew all the good ones, too. So, the other guy who spoke English told me he was an actor, and that made sense because he looked a little like Johnny Depp. Don’t get all jealous now, ladies. I should clarify: I mean he looks like Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow. When I said so, both guys recognized the name, and concurred that he did, indeed, resemble the Captain, with his long black hair and funky mustache. He was very proud of this fact.
Soon, they ordered a full bottle of vodka. The bartender put it on the bar right in front of us, with three glasses, a bucket of ice (Ice is RARE in Europe) and two pitchers – one with apple and one with orange juices. Let the fun begin! Live music started and people were dancing around having a good time, and I was having a jolly good time myself. Eventually, though, I checked the time and it was 11pm. I’m too old for this, and it was time to go. So I stumbled my way back to my hotel, where I promptly crashed out in my clothes and all. I awoke the next morning at 8am Paris time, the first time on my trip I didn’t wake up at 3am! What I learned from this story is that this is what you have to do to kick jet lag.
7. Here is a funny story, and perhaps a tip to fellow travelers. I got off the Paris metro at the Palais Royal Musee' du Louvre stop and walked into a sort of underground shopping mall. I wandered along and then all of the sudden I looked up and found myself under the Louvre pyramid! The line was upstairs and outside. I thought for sure I'd be told I had to go stand in line, but there were self-service ticket booths right there next to me without a line. So I bought my evening ticket (around 9Euros) and walked right in. Absolutely no line! I felt a little guilty when I went upstairs and saw the long lines outside the building. But not that guilty.
8. Most French palaces, including Versailles, were all raided and looted during the French Revolution. So, most of what you see has been rebuilt and “authentic reproductions” put in their place. And I think that is an oxymoron.
9. You really need a wide-angled camera lens in this town.
10. There are no fat people.
11. I need to figure out how to type the Euro symbol on my keyboard.
12. I think these people were born with a cigarette hanging out of their mouth. They sit at cafés, in each other’s bubbles, smoking cigarettes and looking as if they are whispering secrets to each other. They do not look up, or around.
13. On some of the bridges, there are locks. Like bike locks, combination locks, key locks. I needed to get to the bottom of that. So, first thing I did was Google it, and found that there is very little information about them. I gather, though, that they are love locks. If you love someone, you place a lock on the bridge and the love stays strong until it is unlocked. There is one story about a bridge in Paris that had too many (Pont Alexander III Bridge) so back in April, the city decided they needed to break all of the locks. I am afraid there are probably a lot of broken hearts out there. Already, the hopeless romantics of the world have started placing more locks on the bridge. A sidenote, I have found that this is not only in Paris, but on bridges found all around the world. I like stories like this. I might need to write one.
14. I packed all the wrong shoes. It is way too cold for the “walking/hiking sandals I bought just for this trip. My tennis shoes hurt after a couple of days (I walked A LOT!!!) and I can’t believe I even packed heels. So I had to buy a pair of boots with a small heel. I wear European size 37. That was quite interesting to find out. Either way, I have new boots that are very comfortable, and I plan to put a lot of miles on them before the end of this trip.
15. Pigeons vs. Rats
Who do you think would win in a fight between a pigeon and a rat? Yes, rats have those ugly little rat teeth, and are covered with plague-carrying fleas. But at least a rat will scurry away from you if you kick your feet. Pigeons seem to be everywhere. They don’t go away. You kick at them, and they might wince a little, but only a little, if that. And these stupid people keep feeding them. As if it’s fun to have rat-like critters scurrying around. If I were France’s President, the first thing on my agenda would be a war on pigeons!. No feeding them. If London can do it, so can Paris. So what I am saying is that if a rat would win against a pigeon, bring them on.
16. One of the biggest challenges was the language barrier. I didn’t necessarily need to chat with other people often, and when I needed to, most people could work with me a little bit. What I missed, though was the opportunity to learn something. Everything everywhere was in French. If I found a piece of art or a sculpture I liked, I would look at the sign and would get frustrated in not being able to read it. I don’t expect them to put everything in English. That is not my point. It's just that I do firmly believe that something was “lost in translation” during my time in Paris, simply because I learned less then I would have otherwise. I would end up taking a photo of something or jotting a note on my iPhone and then looking it up on the internet later in the day.
17. There is a lot of talk about “picnicking” in Europe in order to save money. The gig is that you go to a local market, stock up on fruits and veggies, cheese and meats and a loaf of bread, and picnic on a park bench when you’re hungry. However, I found that for me, this was not optimal. For starters, I’m not a big veggie person. I would prefer to clean my fruits and veggies before eating them. And the biggest problem I had with this is how to keep the food cold until time to eat. I just could not get myself to lug around a hunk of cheese and salami until I was hungry. Room temperature is not in the safe zone, and all of my culinary training tells me that this is not wise. So, it might work for you, but I just couldn’t get myself to do it. If I bought something at the market, it was something I was planning on eating within the hour.
18. Nutella everywhere! You can get Nutella in many flavors, spread on a crape. I showed my mom a photo of Nutella and she got all excited, telling me she ate it a lot as a child. I think there must be a good reason this has not been introduced to us in America, so I am not willing to try it.
19. My favorite part of Paris was the Latin Quarter, Montmartre and Sacre-Caoer.
20. I have no regrets about not going to the top of the Eifel tower (It was so overcast the whole time) and I don’t regret not going inside Notre Dame. I should have opted out of the boat ride on the River Seine as I could have easily walked (and did) to most of the sights along the route.
21. I did not see one hairy armpit, or smell one stinky French person. However, I did smell a pack of stinky American backpackers.
22. When I return to France (and I will return) I will feel confident in skipping Paris and heading straight to Aix-en-Provence, and the South of France.
23. French Laundry: My Fenton friends will all get excited when they see the words “French Laundry” because they think I am about to write about that fantastic little deli they have downtown. But nope. Instead I am going to tell you about a subject far less interesting then roast beef on rye. It is about my trip to a Parisian laundry mat. Turns out, I only wore about 10%... maybe 15% of what I packed. I hadn’t intended on it being so cold. So I decided I needed to do a load of laundry before heading to Austria. So I threw my dirty clothes into a plastic bag and headed to a laundry mat that was about a block away. Little did I know the adventure ahead of me. When I walked in, it looked innocent enough. But upon closer inspection, I could see that I was going to have trouble with temperature and wash cycles, because, of course, they were all in French. There was nobody around to assist me, and I had forgotten my phrasebook in my hotel, so I had to just throw it all in and hope for the best. The next question I had, however, was how to get the machine started. I looked for a place to put my coins, but couldn’t find one. I looked above it, on the side of it, below it. I tried to remove a panel hoping it would just flip up. I looked around the room, frustrated. There were two square white machines attached to the wall. One looked like a machine to buy soap from, and the other looked to be just a big white box with a telephone-type dial pad in the center, and mercy me, a coin slot! I looked back at my washing machine and saw a big number 30 printed on the front of it, so I decided to dial the number 30. I did, and it told me 2 Euros!!! Success! I didn’t know if I had it on the right temperature, but at least I found a way to get it going. Next, I needed to get some soap. I looked all around the soap dispenser machine for a place to put my Euros, and again, no slot. I could see the packets of soap inside of it, but still no luck. Then, I saw the large #51 on the front of it. I tried it on the other “master” machine… I entered 51, and it asked for .60 Euros. YAY! I put my money in and you could only imagine the happiness and pride I felt when I saw the bubbles in the window of my washer! Since there were two types of soap displayed in the machine, I was a little worried that the one I chose was bleach because I couldn't read the writing, but somehow it worked out. It automatically fed into the machine. The dryer worked the same way, but by then, I was a pro!
24. My Diet Pepsi addiction was severely neglected for the whole trip. I ran into a little grocery store for a simple diet coke. There really aren’t Pepsi products in Europe. I found one Diet Pepsi from a questionable street vendor in Salzburg, and treated it like liquid gold, but that was it. Anyway, I got a kick out of Parisian grocery stores. None of the brand names are recognizable, so it is like a puzzle walking through one. All I needed, though, was one small bottle of Diet Coke. I found it and got in line. The little old lady in front of me forgot something, and of course, right when the check out girl was done ringing her up. So I waited and waited. The check out girl, who incidentally, was sitting on a stool beside her cash register, gave me a
“I feel sorry for you because you’re American, and even though I am just a cashier in a shitty grocery store, I still live in Paris, and you don’t…” look, noted that all I had was one little Diet Coke, and proceeded to bite her hangnails. I stood there waiting for a full five minutes. That is how bad my addiction is. So the little old lady finally returned with an armful of groceries. Eventually, it was my turn. The check out girl looked at me with a shit-eating smile and said “Un Euro” – one Euro! That is one tiny coin. She could have taken my coin earlier and let me go. I had it in my hand the whole time! Good God that was the hardest earned Diet Coke I have ever had, and perhaps the best tasting.
25. The only time I felt ill-at-ease in Paris was when I was in the neighborhood by Moulin Rouge near Montmartre. And I didn’t feel like I was in physical danger, it was more that I worried about my purse being snatched. So I held tight. I felt a little unsafe, as well, at Sacre Couer when I saw the men in camoflage uniforms walking around with machine guns.
26. I needed to buy my train ticket to get to Austria, as I decided to wait until I was in Paris to purchase it in case my plans changed. So, on Sunday night, I decided it would be a good time to go to the train station to buy what I needed. WOW! It was crazy at Gare de’lEst (or something like that). First, the Paris metro is a combination of normal Metro trains, and RER trains. The RER generally gets you outside of town and to the airports and other major train stations. If you stay within the main part of the city, it costs the same as a regular Metro ride. If you leave the central part of town, it will cost a little more. You can go down in any Metro station and end up with an RER train. This sounds much more confusing then it really is. Anyway, I took an RER train to the train station and was met with complete CHAOS. I needed to find a ticket counter. Once I found my way out of the Metro/RER station… I had to deal with 1000’s of people, all in a hurry to get to their trains, or whatever. Really. It was like I had accidently stumbled into an Ironman competition. I mean, it was like 1000's of my sister Krissy's - running around late, trying to get to where they needed to go with only seconds to spare! Once I found a ticket counter, I waited in line only to find out I needed to go up another level in order to find the machines I needed to get the job done. So I find the right spot and spend a good half an hour working with the machine. Luckily it had the option for English, but I still could not find what I needed, as I wanted an overnight train to Munich. There HAD to be an actual ticket counter someplace, so I went up another level, more chaos ensued. I made it up there and found what I hoped was the right line. The lines were split up based on the language you needed to speak. There were about 10 open windows, about four of which had an English speaking employee. When I finally made it up there, I told her what I needed and found that she is Austrian, so she was a great help in getting my ticket with a couchette for the overnight train to Munich, and then a regular ticket to Salzburg. She even gave me a few pointers for the trip. Anyway, the point is that this whole fiasco took about 2 hours, but I was almost as proud to have tickets in hand as I was when I figured out the French Laundry.
