We left on a Sunday at 5:30 in the afternoon. This is one of only two times (the first being when I came to Dusseldorf in September) that I had the convenience of using the Dusseldorf International Airport. I have otherwise (for prices, really) had to use the Weeze (Dusseldorf) Airport that services Ryan Air, a very cheap airline. Notice how I put the 'Dusseldorf' in parentheses, as Ryan Air does. That is because it is no where near Dusseldorf, but rather they use it as a selling tool to make people think they’ll be close to Dusseldorf, at least I'm pretty sure that's what's going on. I've heard that it is in fact closer to the Netherlands than it is to Dusseldorf... I found this out the hard way the first time I showed up to the Dusseldorf International Airport and told the cabby that I was flying with Ryan Air so he'd know where to drop me off. He then proceeded to tell me that the airport I needed was in fact Weeze… a mere hour and a half away. Pennies, really! So I was delighted, as you can imagine. I was neither the first, nor will I be the last, to make that mistake. But that's a whole 'nother story. Now being a seasoned traveler of Ryan Air I know that yes they will have the best price, but most of their airports are easily an hour+ away from the town you’re actually trying to fly in/out of. There are always shuttles, but just make sure the hassle is worth it.
OMG, peace out D-dorf. Catching the train to the Flughafen.
Alright- really now, Paris. After the flight we needed to catch a train into town to be able to reach the metro. We went to the ticket counter and the man tried to be nice and give us a junior discount ticket. At first we thought the machines were faulty when trying to pass the ticket through, but then others rushed around us and passed without problems. That train only comes once every half hour so we ran back and forth three times in panic, clock ticking like a time bomb, or so it seemed. Every minute counted! The man finally issued us new tickets and wrote something on a piece of paper for himself. I hope it wasn't a note that he needed to charge himself the difference in price or anything.. but he gave us the other tickets and sent us on our way. Finally, we were on our way into the city.
We eventually made our way to our hostel just as night fell and was greeted by my travel mate's Aussie pal from home, whom I had never met, who was making her way from London to Germany to be an Au Pair as well. (It’s a highly contagious disease. Really). As we checked into our hostel we had all been booked to different rooms. I went to mine and found a girl by herself so I struck up a friendly conversation. Seeing as how my travel pals were in different rooms I asked if hers were as well. She turned out to be a solo traveler and before my mind could think my mouth invited to her to join us for dinner. She was a slightly odd bird, but I felt bad. We found an Italian joint a few blocks from our hostel and decided it was pretty well priced so we stopped in. Eating Italian in France.. from here on out you will hear all about the sacrifices being made on account of a budget…
I hit it off pretty easily with my friend’s friend, but the other chick was rather awkward. Which she could just be socially awkward, or she might have felt nervous or out of her element with the rest of us pretty much knowing each other one way or another. It went well enough and when it came time to pay one of the Aussies made a comment that they hate that there is a 2 cent coin. Seriously, what the eff do you do with a 2 cent coin? I think the 1 cent really covers the need for anything smaller than a 5 cent-er. Our new friend goes ‘Oh I love 'em.. I save them all and then buy a meal with it.. They’re great!’ Well.. that’s super. She is single handedly finding use for every 2-cent coin in the EU because Lord knows I’m not using them. They sit in a small change collector on my desk. I would neither want to sit with her while she counted them out to her several euro meal or be the waiter that would have to accept them because really, it's still money. Luckily, she spared us.
The next day we set off early (..ok sort of early) for The Louvre. Being smart with our money we stopped at a store and got snacks for the day. Mostly fruit and huge bottles of water (we snagged a couple extra baguettes and jam from the free breakfast at the hostel). I wasn’t paying attention and grabbed the ‘Calcium Added’ water not knowing what the heck that entailed cuz have you ever even seen that before? I haven't. --Salt water. It tasted just like salt water. Straight up. So gross.
The Louvre line was definitely as long as promised, winding across the court that surrounds the pyramidal entrance. You could spend days in The Louvre, it is just so big! So we quickly found maps, plotted a course of exactly what we wanted to see, and set off. After about 4 hours, however, we had pretty serious museum fatigue and decided we needed to part. But it was beautiful inside. It just keeps going and going. Split levels, light rooms, hot rooms, long rooms, a cruel joke of signs 'directing' the way to the hidden bathrooms, (those signs were LIARS), famous works after other famous works. I practically topped out my camera’s space there (given that 150 pictures is not a lot). It was incredible.
We went outside to the Tuileries Garden and sat with our fruit and baguettes for a little break. My salt water eventually became the designated fruit cleaner.. Which I suppose I'm glad it at least found a purpose. We then walked through the gardens onto the major Avenue des Champs-Élysées, all the way down to the Obelisk inside The Place de la Concorde and onward to the Arc de Triomphe. We decided to round off a very ambitious Day One with the Eiffel Tower at sunset, and then to climb it after nightfall. We only went up to the first platform, but I think that’s all you really need. The view was breathtaking and the weather was impeccable. We lucked out with summer weather in spring and I could not have been happier about that.
Day two started off with the ‘plan’ to head to the Château de Versailles after our stop at the grocery store (in which I got the RIGHT water this time.. thank you very much) but the silly Parisians had one major kink in an otherwise (I thought) excellent metro system. On the map it shows that you get on the yellow line going westward but what you may not notice if you're not careful is that the yellow line splits into opposite directions taking you either to Versailles on the south side or all the way to the north side of town. A normal metro has it that you can hop on any train that comes to that color's tracks in the correct direction that you want, it's all the same line. But the tricky part about this line, and what we didn't know at the time, is that all yellow trains come to that point, but they have names (not like 'Versailles' and the name of the other end of the line, but like 'Dane' or something like that) and you have to look at the board to see which train names go in which direction. What the hell. We didn’t realize this until we were one stop away from the end of the North line-- luckily due to the questions of another confused group of tourists. To get off, wait for the train to back-track to where the tracks split, try to figure out what the eff happened, figure out how to fix it, fail at that, and then just follow the obviously smarter and older other tourists to the opposite platform, JUST miss that train after a sprint, wait for the next train and actually reach Versailles we had wasted about 3 hours and the line to enter was A.TRO.CIOUS. We waited for that in another two hours, worse than The Louvre (I’d say that was more like 45 minutes).
After fighting yet another winding line just to use the women’s lavatory we joined the rest of the masses being pushed from room to room. It seemed it was required that ¾ of your person was in contact with another person at all times. Alright, it wasn’t quite that bad really, but it was busy. Most of the palace (I don’t think) was part of the tour so we made our way through semi-quickly, perhaps an hour and a half, ooo'd and awe'd as all tourists do, took many pictures, and once again greeted the fresh air outside. I was interested to see Marie Antoinette's Hamlet and The Grand Trianon (which were totes included in the Paris Museum passes we had already purchased) but we realized that we had spent half of the day already with the whole metro mix-up and though, like The Louvre, you should really give Versailles lots of time, you could give it a whole day really, we just didn’t have that, so we pressed on. Bummer.
(Now is the recommended time for a pee break/Intermission)
Once back to the main part of Paris we attempted the Historic Walk that had been outlined for us by Rick Steve’s travel book. (We became very close over the next week). We started off at Notre Dame though it was about 8PM and all of these historic sites were getting ready to close/were already closed so we scurried quickly into Notre Dame but were only able to peek through gates and read plaques at the Deportation Memorial. We crossed a bridge where the wires had been tagged with tons of personal locks people had left behind with short messages, names and dates. It was pretty neat.
We stopped briefly to eat-- me with my cheap Subway (in PARIS) and my two companions at a vegan restaurant they wanted to try. I have never encountered such a rude waiter. Even though we were one of two parties in the entire restaurant once he heard I wasn’t eating there he gave me a hard time and then proceeded to take the table away from me (we were seated at two 2-seaters pushed together) so I had to squeeze to be the 3rd wheel at my friend’s table. Then another group came and he made the shifty eyes at me a few times as he was thinking...thinking about how he needed my chair. I finally said ‘Do you need my chair..’ and he goes ‘Ehh, yes. I do.’ I just got up, squeezed my way through the squished dining area and waited with Rick Steves outside until my friends were finished. They apologized and said if they hadn’t already ordered they would have left with me, but they were stuck. The only rude Parisian I encountered, though.
We then hit the Shakespeare & Co. Bookstore on our way to the Latin Quarter, named so because in the Middle Ages Latin was spoken there. It was wonderfully organized in its complete and utter dishevelment inside the bookstore. Old mismatched couches strewn with readers that had the time to spare. Though we did not, so onward we went. Walked by Place St. Michel which has been the site of several student demonstrations (University of Paris is quite close) and after a particular one in 1968 the cobble stoned streets were replaced by paved roads so the students could never again use the streets as weapons against authorities. Even today this is where all of their student demonstrations begin (thanks for dropping that knowledge, Rick Steves). The Latin Quarter was buzzing as we walked through and dusk set in over the shops and streets causing all the lights to slowly grow more and more brilliant. This Quarter is also known as a lively, artsy, bohemian area in Paris.
After one round we decided to head in for we had to switch hostels that night so we grabbed our bags at the first and began the trek to the second. We got off a stop too early which ended up being a really sketchy area that we had to walk through with one of the Aussies hauling a MASSIVE piece of luggage for her extended stay in Germany. She didn't seem super jazzed, but then again no one was helping me find this place, so sorry. So we slowly but surely made our way (getting lost several times, thanks vague directions from Google Maps.. which is usually my jam. And having to ask for directions several times) and finally found it. Don't worry, it quickly changed from sketch to quite a nice area. And obviously I am still alive and still have all of my appendages. The man at the hostel was waiting up just for us as we were the last ones to check in at about 11ish at night. It was a nice surprise though- I had forgotten that I had booked us a 3-person private room, which was infinitely better than the 10-sleeper I was stuck in the two previous nights.
We awoke to another pleasant surprise: that we were actually right up by the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur, on the north side of Paris, which was exactly our first planned stop for the day. We continued our routine of fruit and water at a local grocery store and then got a head start on the masses up the hill. On the ascent to the church we were approached by some men from an African country, I can’t remember which one now, not even sure if they told us. They didn’t try to steal anything but they ask you for a finger and then talk to you for about 3 minutes while they very, very quickly spin you a braid of different colors that makes a bracelet. I told the man that was on my hand the entire time that I didn’t have any money to give him and he said any contribution is welcome, any contribution, possibly meaning my fruit, I have no idea. He told me a story of ‘boom boom’ and that I was to make a wish on said bracelet for me and my imaginary boyfriend and we would have ‘good boom boom’ there-after. I don’t know why exactly, but the use of ‘boom boom’ in lieu of any other term for sex actually sounded way dirtier to me.. He finished his schpeel and the bracelet and for the last time I told him I didn’t have anything to give him and he took it back and was on his way.
The church was beautiful, of course, as were the lovely cobble-stoned, sun-bathed streets of the surrounding area, Montmartre. We lazily wandered around atop the hill for about an hour looking at the cafes, the street artists (the painters.. the other kinds usually creep me out), souvenir stands that spewed from the shops into the streets.. one of the only times in fact on this vacation that I went into a souvenir shop. The view overlooking the city, the crazy-ass drivers whizzing up and down the hills fast enough to make you think their brakes were out, the sun shining so brightly, the slight, warm breeze; it was all so wonderful. I fell in love with Paris. But then again, who doesn’t.
Just out of sight is le 'Boom-Boom' Crew
We had a flight to catch pretty soon and we still had one more site to see so we hustled it back to the metro and to the Père Lachaise Cemetery. The pathways were confusing (thank goodness they provided us with a map), the cemetery was massive, we were short on time (as was our entire time in Paris, just so much to do!) AND we were surrounded by dead people, so naturally we B-lined our way to a few famous plots such as Oliver Wilde’s and Jim Morrison’s and then picked our luggage back up from the second hostel and got ready for Barcelona.
I am so proud of you for finding Shakespear and Co.!! It is by far one of the most famous bookstores in the world. :)
ReplyDeleteAnd your captions are amaze-balls.
I totes agree with Kath, and thanks to you I wasn't bored at work tonight!
ReplyDeleteThanks guys!
ReplyDeleteAnd Tina- that's great! I'm glad I could keep you entertained at work, haha, I know it was a whopper of a post!