Oui Oui! Paris Never Fails!

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The fresh cool air of Paris blew gently on our faces, as we made our way to our budget hotel. A thankful change from the heat and humidity of Venice. A small bakery caught my attention and we stopped for some fresh croissants. Words cannot describe how good croissants are in France.

Unfortunately for us our stay was going to be a short one. We wanted around five nights each, for Paris and Amsterdam but when we were trying to book Amsterdam we found out that at that exact time the International Broadcasting Convention was on, and hotel prices go through the roof. We were looking for a dorm room and some of them were over €100 a night, EACH. Thus the only way our trip would work was to cut both Paris and Amsterdam short, so we would stay just before the Convention. A real shame.

Back to the action....

We made it to our hotel and rested for a while, it was exactly what you'd expect for a two star hotel. Small yet adequate. Hunger soon got us moving though, and we found ourselves in a not so pleasant looking, local hamburger joint. The food was fine though and the whole time we were there the staff tried their best to get BBC on the television, the only English channel they had.

After lunch we headed for the city, our current geographic position being the ghetto, once again. Epinay Sur Seine, in the north of Paris. Waiting for the train we soon realised we two of very few Caucasians, and probably the only people who paid for a ticket. Most of the locals just jump over the turn-styles.

We jumped off the RER at The Eiffel Tower and stood in awe (the lines being very very long to go up). We decided to leave it for another day. Instead we walked though the park and bumped into some sort of festival, an aerobics festival. A huge stage had been erected and a hundred or so women were exercising in sync with the woman on stage. In essence it looks like a huge promotional stunt for Nike Women. We moved on. We wandered the streets and worked our way to the Champs Elysees. We joined the frantic masses shopping for dear life in the designer stores. It was insane, piles of clothes getting thrown around and barely enough room to move. Moving on we finally made it to the Arc De Triumph, took a photo and left.

We hopped on a metro to our transfer station, we couldn't take the metro to the ghetto, that's what the Regional Trains are for. While still in the city we took the chance to have some dinner and found ourselves at Quick, the French equivalent to McDonalds. You feel good because it's not Maccas, but you get the same 'after Maccas' feeling in your stomach once you leave.

Back in the Ghetto and it started to drizzle on our walk home. Luckily, we made it inside before getting too wet. Sleep.

We awoke the next morning to find half of our clothes sopping wet on the floor. Awesome. Our room had somehow let in rain, who knows how, considering we were not on the top floor and the window was on the other side of the room, closed! Nevertheless our clothes were stuffed. Kell's favourite woollen jacket was in a state, and upon discovering it, so was Kell. I marched downstairs and demanded to speak to the manager. "He's not in till 11, can i help", i told the receptionist our problem and explained what i wanted to happen. Ie. Give us a new room, wash our clothes and dry clean Kell's delicate jacket, at the very least. She was happy to give us a new room but for the rest we must speak to the manager. So we waited. I went to reception shortly after 11 and was told the manager was in his office 'Go in that door.'

I opened the door as the manager was taking off his jacket, he looked at me with suprise and disgust. "You must knock", he yelled at me. I'm sorry but your receptionist sent me in. "I don't care you must knock!". "I understand that and im sorry but your receptionist told me to come in. I assumed you and her were in contact and you were awaiting me." The guy didn't really seem to get it, he went on about the knocking for five minutes, demonstrating and everything. Once he calmed down I told him my problem he said, "I will give you another room". (Yeah right buddy you'll give me more then that. He was about to get a taste of his own medicine. Some idiot banging on about something for 10 minutes, me.) I took him to our room to show him the mess. He didn't seem too phased, and once again said he would give us another room and we can use the dryer downstairs. This guy REALLY didn't seem to get it. "Our clothes stink of damp floor, how is drying them going to help?" I demanded that our clothes must be washed and that Kell's jacket needs to be dry cleaned. "What is this, dry cleaned", he asked. I tried explaining but he had no idea. I even asked him how he cleans his suit. "I wash it at home in the washing machine". "Riiigght. Ok, look the point is, our clothes stink and are saturated and it's the fault of your hotel."
He finally took us downstairs and showed us the washing machine and dryer and said we were free to use them (though we couldn't use them right then because they were cleaning towels and bed sheets). "What are you going to do about this jacket then? It needs to be professionally cleaned, and we are only here 3 nights and you want us to waste a day washing clothes?" "What are you proposing", he asked. I said that we should get a night free of charge on top of the washing of the clothes and Kell's jacket getting cleaned professionally. He said he couldn't do it, we could either wash our clothes in his machine, and bring the bill for Kell's jacket to him once we have it, and he was pay for it. He had said that he knew of some places to wash Kell's jacket around the Champ Elysees. Or we could have the washing machine and a night free. In the back of our heads we were laughing. This guy obviously had no idea how expensive dry cleaning was, let alone in Paris, let alone on the Champ Elysees. We thought that there would be nothing better then to bring him a bill of €100. But we came to the conclusion that there was no way we would waste the day washing clothes and searching for the most expensive Dry Cleaners in Paris.

Instead we walked around the neighbourhood looking for different accommodation. We didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Around the corner from the our Hotel, angry and hungry we noticed a line so long it was coming out onto the street. It was a bakery. Thinking it must be good we waited in line. As we waited they brought out a fresh batch of baguettes that looked amazing. We got a croissant and a baguette each and were in heaven. Bread never tasted so good, and as far as Paris prices go it was a steal. (It pays to live in the ghetto).

Further up the road was the Hotel Ibis, we walked in and asked their price. Slightly more then what we were paying and slightly nicer too. We'll take it.

We walked back to our manager and said we would like a refund, we were leaving. It wasn't till now that he apologised for what had happened. But he was still so rude as to say that because we hadn't given 24 hours notice he doesn't have to refund us for the two nights, technically only one night. The nerve of the guy. I couldn't believe what i was hearing. He did however give us the two nights back, and thought himself a great guy for it. Yeah too late buddy.

We chucked our wet clothes in a plastic bag and made our way to the Ibis. What a waste of a morning.

Determined to turn things around we headed into town for some retail therapy. What we didnt realise it that it was Sunday, and everything was closed. The major shopping centres in the city of Paris are closed on a Sunday, yet Warringah Mall slaves on. What? Shocked and appalled we wandered aimlessly.

Things started to turn up though when we stumbled onto an antique market. Nothing worth buying but everything worth looking at. The markets went on forever and filled the day out nicely. They started packing up around five and we had to move on. We got directions to the Moulin Rouge which wasn't far away, and wondered if we could afford it. We walked past sex shop after sex shop, none of which we entered, how unwholesome. The Moulin Rouge stood out, a cut above the rest. There was already a line out the front. Mostly middle age couples with lots of cash, perverts. The cheapest ticket inside was a staggering €179! There goes that idea. We settled for a couple of 'Blue Lagoons' at a cool bar up the road. People watching on that street is most entertaining. Kell was getting some interesting looks from some seedy old men.

We some chew and headed home, it had been a long day.

Time for the Louvre, It was not as busy as the last time I was there which was great. We did the standards, Gummy De Milo and The Mona Lisa. We walked through the Egyptian section and then found our way to a very quite almost unknown part of the Louvre. The Australasian and African section, which I found very interesting. Much better then looking at the same painting of Jesus 1000 times over.

It now being Monday we went to find the shops. McDonalds was too tempting this time and we succumbed. To our surprise it was fantastic. I dont know how some places get it right and others so so wrong. Anyway we headed to the department stores and I followed Kell like a drone, tired and uninterested through the women's store. They had two separate buildings for men and women, which was quite annoying. We shopped the rest of the afternoon and i came out with a couple of cheap T-shirts, Kell, a leather jacket and a cardigan.

Exhausted we headed back to the Ibis. We would soon be in Amsterdam.

Despite our hiccup we loved Paris.

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Photos

Breakdancers
These guys pulled quite a crowd under the tower, dancing.

Kell
Kell @ The Eiffel Tower wearing the infamous jacket.

Easter Island Head
The Louvre