Paris

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So I decided to spend a few days in Paris with my old friend James. He was there for the holidays, visiting his parents in the countryside and his sister, who lives in Paris and is expecting her first child (since born, welcome to the world Quinn!) I flew out from Exeter on Flybe, on a 6.30 am flight. I knew it was going to be cold, and that it had snowed the day before - I was not, though, prepared for just how cold it was going to be! When we landed in Paris there was a fair amount of snow on the ground (see photo), and because it was a small plane, we had to walk across the ice-covered runway to get inside. I walked very, very slowly - I have a fear of falling on ice, because, well, I often do!

I had a taste of the famous French snarkiness before I'd even left the airport. After having my passport stamped, I walked the wrong way to get out, and had to double back. I was stopped by an official looking man, who spoke to me in English and told me that I had to get my passport stamped. I told him, in English, that I had just done so - and he acted like he didn't understand me. Hello, you just spoke English! It wasn't until the lady behind the glass yelled at him that he let me go. How very French, indeed! CDG was easy enough to get around, although quite quiet, it seemed, for 9-ish am. Also strange was that there were several shops and coffee bars before you even got to passport control - not like JFK or Heathrow where it's the first thing you have do.

I was able to make my way to the rail station via an aiport train, and bought a ticket to Gare du Nord for €8.40. Not bad, much cheaper than the Heathrow express. The trains were fairly regular, only waited about 10 minutes for one, and was at Gare du Nord in 20 minutes or so. Here's the first of many times I was confused - I had expected the station to have one main section (like a Paddington) because, sadly, I had seen it in a film. Yes, films are my primary knowledge source about most travel destinations. But there's not one huge area, just lots of little tunnels and hallways, very easy to get lost. And asking for help was a bit daunting, because of the many, many men in military uniforms carrying huge automatic weapons! So, I did as I always do, found a loo (50 cents) to get myself situated. Finally I thought I knew where I was going, and went up a long escalator (at the bottom of which several people of colour were being interrogated by police officers) I found myself on a random street corner in Paris. Hm. So I went back down into the station -and was promptly stopped by one of the said police officers. I tried to explain to him that I was lost in barely comprehensible French, and he let me back through. Finally James texted me with detailed directions, and I found him by a flower shop.

I hadn't seen James for about two years, so it was great to catch up with him again. We went to a cafe - somewhere - which was cute, small, very French, and had two coffess (€4.80). Now, here is one of the problems with trying to write about this trip - because I was with someone who knew the city so well, I didn't always pay attention to exactly where we were going, I just let him lead me. So I have no idea where a lot of the places we visited are. I *think* we took the 4 train about 2 or 3 stops - but I don't know where to. This is something I need to pay attention to more on future trips. When I'm alone, obviously, I do. But as I say, with a local-type, it's easy to be led.

So we finished our coffee, walked for a few blocks, then walked the same blocks back because I'd left my hat in the cafe. It was around then that we realised our original plan of just wandering around wasn't going to work, because it was insanely, bitterly cold. I'm not usually one to complain about the weather - I grew up in New York, and we had some pretty rough winters when I was a kid. I don't mind cold or hot weather, usually. But I'm not just used to it anymore, and it was quite a shock. James is originally from California, and he's been living in San Francisco, so he was in the same boat. But first, we had come to Shakespeare and Company, which was one place I had to stop whilst in Paris. First, because it's a famous book store, and I'm a sucker for those. Second, cheap books! Third, because of its pivotal role in the film Before Sunset, a favourite of mine. And fourth - well, do I need a fourth? We wandered around for a bit - I could have spent hours in there, but I was cold, tired, hungry, and still had my bulky backpack on (with which I manged to knock over a small book display - hello to the clumsy American!). I left with a book on Contemporary East European poetry (€6) and a copy of Chaucer's (again, a favourite of mine, I collect different versions of it).

After this (or before? not sure) we went to Notre Dame. It was January 6th, the day of Epiphany, and the church was filled with pilgrims, which gave it a nice touch (although it did make it a bit crowded!). We walked around, saw the exhibits, read the placards - really just happy to be out of the cold, though. I usually quite like visiting cathedrals, but I think I'd like to go back there on a quieter day.

After just walking around for a bit, we decided to find a place for lunch. We were - again, somwhere - in the Latin Quarter, with lots of cute little restaurants, and strange men outside begging us to come in. We settled on a place that looked like it did traditional French food, and had a price-fixe lunch for €10 (three courses). It was nice and cozy (and thankfully, warm!) and even had a cat wandering around, a very nice French touch for an obvious tourist like myself. I had some onion soup (a favourite of mine, and I had the geeky satisfaction of having French onion soup IN FRANCE!) which was quite good. The beef and cheese crepe was good, but was basically a French burrito. In fact, most of the menu seemed to be comprised of different versions of hamburger. For desert was a fromage plate - a small slice of brie, and a hard cheese I didn't recognize.

Then we took off for the hostel, so I could check in and drop off my bag. I stayed at the new St. Christopher's hostel, on quai de Seine, which had only opened less than a year before, and was purpose-built. A bed in a 8-bed dorm was €25 per night. Easy check-in, very friendly staff, and a super-clean room. A nice touch was little curtains for each of the bed, so you could have some privacy. There are also steel cages under each bed, for storage. I dropped off my bag and we headed to the cafe in the hostel, which served alcohol and coffee (only €1.25 for a coffee), and did some pub food as well. The food prices looked reasonable, but I was shocked when a guy at the next table ordered a pint of Strongbow, and it was, I think, nearly €6. James told me that beer can be pretty pricey in the city, because wine was much more popular. I didn't have a chance to have a few drinks at the pub, but I suspect if that was the plan sneaking in a bottle of wine would have been a better choice. The cafe also does breakfast, which comes free with the bed - sadly, I slept through it the next day!

Of course, as with any hostel, there were a fair amount of young Americans. Not that I have anything against young Americans - I used to be one. But there was a guy at the next table (the one who ordered cider) who was a bit rude to the waitress, and had that general "why isn't this place more like America" vibe about him. The stereotypical Ugly American. Two of his friends showed up and said they were thinking about heading to the Moulin Rouge that evening (last I heard, the tickets were about €90) and he said something like "what the fuck, this fucking city is so expensive, like whatEVER!. (Seriously - he said "like, whatever"). That's when James and I decided to head out again.

After warming up a bit we set off for Montemarte. James wanted to show me the view from the hill as the soon was going down. Of course, the sun was pretty much down by the time we got there (uphill on icy streets, fun!), but that made for some amazing views of Paris by night (not great for photo taking, though!). The Eiffel Tower lights up with blinking lights for 10 minutes past each hour, and it looks like a giant Christmas tree. We stayed for a bit, but the cold had become unbearable (probably around -5c by that point) so we went back down to the city proper. This involves walking down a loooong series of (rather famous) steps - which were covered with ice. We held on the railing for dear life and made our way down slowly. Of course people trying to sell stuff at the bottom took advantage of the fact that people couldn't walk away quickly and were a bit aggresive about selling their souviners (and didn't believe when I said I couldn't understand them because I was from Guam).

We made our way to Museum of Eroticism, which was, of course, my idea. The musuem is situated on 7 floors, and is full of photos, statues, and all kinds of sex toys (some *very* imaginative!). It did appear to be a bit random - it wasn't really broken down into time periods or themes. One floor had a television showing pornographic films from the 20s and 30s. The top two floors were photography exhibitions. The museum was fairly interesting, and a good diversion for the €5 we paid (€8 for non-students).

We decided to forgo food and have a wine dinner at a place called "Philosopher's Cafe" - looking it up, it seems like it's a chain, although I didn't realise it at the time. But it was warm and cozy, and we had a lovely bottle of wine for €21. We spent several hours there, just chatting and hanging out.

The trip back to the hostel was easy enough, but the walk from the metro station was a bit creepy - it's a fairly deserted part of town at night, it seems. It didn't seem necessarily dangerous, but I was on guard anyway. Walking over the bridge I realised that a good part of the river was frozen over. The cafe was pretty busy and loud, lots of young people, it seemed. Getting back to the room I realised that a few people in there were already asleep - a bit weird, only a few minutes after 11, but fair enough, I guess. There was a nice hippy boy in the bunk above mine, was pretty quiet. I didn't realise until the morning that I was the only women in there - I knew it was a mixed dorm (although in my experience, even in mixed dorms they try to group women together), but I think that maybe they thought I was a George instead of Georgina!

Then, after a very long day, I was unconscious by 11.30pm.

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Photos

View from the plane.
I took this from the plane after we'd landed at CDG.

Me by the river Seine.
You can kind of make out the Eiffel Tower in the background...

Pont Neuf.
Meaning, of course "new bridge", not "bridge #9". And is actually the oldest bridge in Paris (James was quite excited to share this bit of info).

Shakespeare and Company
Me in front of the book shop, with "take the f-ing photo, I'm cold!" face on.

Montmarte
An attempted night shot - didn't come out very well.