The plane itself was HUGE -much larger than anything I've ever flown in before, and that was part of the adventure. Flying AirFrance was amazing. I had a window seat, the staff spoke both English and French, and everyone was incredibly nice. I initially appreciated my neighbor sitting on my right who was either Dutch or German and drank whiskey on the rocks while listening to Enya. My amusement soon turned to annoyance when I discovered he had no sense of personal space, and when it came time to sleep (thank you AirFrance for your lovely sleep masks and ear plugs), he had me in all kinds of positions trying to avoid him and his socked feet. Needless to say with turbulence, an oafish seat mate, and a crying baby, I slept maybe 1 hour if that.
My arrival in Paris was similarly taxing. The clouds were dense and settled heavily, so I couldn't catch the slightest glimpse of France. Then the pilot is circling around Paris waiting for permission to land. As we descend, my heart's nearly in my throat, and I'm waiting for that moment when we cut through the clouds and I can see Paris for the first time... little did I realize it would be when we were barely two feet from the runway! As we're taxing into the gate, the pilot informs us it's a whopping 14 degrees Celsius or 54 degrees Farenheit, and it's raining.
Even so, I'm so damn excited I couldn't care if I'm freezing and wet. My next obstacle in CDG is the border police who barely glance at me as they stamp my passport (my first stamp!), and I'm off to retrieve my luggage (it came out in one piece mom!). I then take a bus an hour into the city to l'Opera. By this time, the temperature has dropped considerably, and it is POURING. I'm lucky my purse has an umbrella, but my teeth are chattering as I meet Madame Kelton and follow her 11 blocks to our hostel. I arrive soaked through, numb, and exhausted. It's now around 11 AM in Paris.
I'm fortunate to discover that my peers are as sleep-deprived, jet-lagged, and sopping wet as me, and we end up collapsing into a downstairs room in the hostel and sharing roaring, delirious laughs (over what, I can't even remember). We're free to explore until our meeting at 3PM, and we don't waste time! It's still pouring. I've switched from my sandals into my running shoes (not fashionable but warmer and comfier). We hit the streets of Paris like the blind leading the blind, weaving our way up and down rainy streets and staring wide-eyed at what's around every corner. Arriving in Paris... It feels natural. My complaint is that I can't speak French 24/7. I want to talk to people, eat the food, walk until my feet blister... Being in Paris: It feels a lot like love.
I finally rest my feet at a small cafe (of which there is literally one on every corner) where I fumble over my words, and the old man behind the counter smiles encouragingly at me and prompts me with questions in French. The myth of the angry, mean French person is so easily disparaged. At every turn, French people don't go out of their way to notice or acknowledge you, but whenever I've spoken to anyone, they've been polite at the least and overtly kind at the most. It's amazing. I feel like I'm in a dream getting to speak with them and walk around their world. We arrive back at the hostel for the 3PM meeting. Once again, I'm soaked and freezing, and my head's getting too heavy to hold up. We settle into our "dungeon" and laugh in our stupid, jet-lag delirium. After the meeting, we are finally assigned rooms -much like dorms.
We have the rest of the evening off. We decide we'll rest and rejoin for dinner. A nap sounds heavenly. Even the tiny twin bed looks promising compared to the upright airplane seat! But I catch myself thinking, What the hell are you doing?! You're in Paris! Get out there! My shoes are soaked, and my feet are blistering so I change shoes. I shake the rain off my jacket and pull back my hair, and I'm out into the city again. We're braver this time. We explore and walk until we almost reach the Champs-Elysses! Through the fog, I can see the Eiffel Tower hiding away!
At a patisserie down the street, I stave off sleep with a warm feuillte du fromage (layered flaky pastry with melted cheese in the center -parfait!) My umbrella has become a casualty of the wind and rain, so I return soaking once more and freezing to the hostel. I anticipate I have time to rest before we venture out for dinner, but 5 minutes later I'm with the group heading down the street once more to a bar. We order beers and wine, but I only have a glass... The last thing I need is a sedative to put me out!
After everyone is sufficiently loosened up, we break apart into small groups and forge for food. Tara, Becca, Charles, Brett, Will, and I head off in a direction we've not yet gone, pausing from time to time to peruse the menus posted outside of each restaurant. Somehow, oddly, we choose Chinese. By this time, it's around 9:30 at night. Ordering authentic Chinese food in French proves daunting. I'll admit I ordered dumplings to save my stomach an any unwanted ache. An hour later, our food arrives. By 11:30PM we're stuffed. We pay our bills (Euros are actually very easy to figure out!) and head off toward the hostel -or... where we though the hostel was. It's almost midnight in Paris, and we are conveniently lost. After wandering several blocks, I approach a waiter outside a cafe: "Bonsoir, monsieur. Excusez moi, mais savez-vous l'Opera?" He looks at me blankly. "l'Opera?" "Oui, l'Opera BVJ." "Non, je ne connais pas..." Such began the dissolution of our conversation. With no help, we find a taxi driver and ask him if he knows where we should go. He points ahead of us -the direction we were originally going- and assures us it's the right way. SO we continue walking. 5 blocks later and still confused, we ask another man parking his moped (speaking of, there's mopeds by the hundreds!), and he tells us the same thing as the taxi driver. 5 more blocks later we reach familiar ground, laughing and wondering how we walked so far without realizing it. I didn't mind much. Paris at night is beautiful...
(Sorry for the blurriness! Pictures are from my iPhone. Didn't think it was good to be lost at midnight in Paris and looking like a tourist haha)
We arrive back at the hostel right around midnight. I haven't slept in somewhere around 36 hours. I take a shower... P.s. hostel your showers suck. The water pressure is non-existent. 5 pathetic spouts trickle, and the water is timed. It lasts around 30 seconds before you push the button and wait for the next spurt. Oh, and about 5 minutes into my shower the water finally went from ice cold to lukewarm. Still, I don't care. I change into my PJs and return to my room. I am too tired to unfold the sheets for my bed so I pull the cover over me and lay on the mattress. I tried to upload this blog post, but the wifi in the hostel is both expensive and unreliable! It crapped out on my just as I was about to finish, but c'est la vie! I went to bed around 1AM -even then wishing I was back on the streets in the rain and cold, and I woke up at 6:45 feeling excited to explore some more. I'll have another post dedicated to that. There were more than 250 pictures taken, so I'll limit it significantly. For now, this is enough to sum up my first day in Paris, and I almost reads like a love letter...
Paris, I love you.
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