Somalians invade the city of Paris

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From England our cheapest means of transportation to Paris was via Euro-line' busses and the underground railway beneath the English Channel (the non-slave smuggling one). We arrived at our destination at about 4 and quickly attempted to navigate the French metro-tram, laughing as we pretty much eeny meany miny'd our way towards Gare de Lyon ( our hostel location). Tenille being the only one who knows more than the odd phrase in French, began trying to ask directions on how to get to our hostel, with little luck, until we managed to find an electrical engineer from Colorado who discovered we were lost and began to navigate us towards the hostel. About a block away from our hostel a teenage guy overheard that we were heading to the same hostel he was staying at, and took over as our navigator, we asked him where he was from, he said "Vancouver, well actually Nanaimo. But most people dont know where that is." We explained that all of us had been to university there at one point and that we were actually all from a small town called Powell River. Suprisingly he knew the town fairly well and then asked if we knew a guy there named Drew Dodsworth. Talk about a small bloody world. We then checked in and franticallly found our necessities ( water, food, and of coarse booze), which was followed by consumption of all three and an un-educated search for some Paris nightlife. Our French was very sloppy which made it fairly hard to ask for directions, but after what seemed like a walk around the whole city we followed some cougars to a club... or what they called a club, seemed more like a swingers club with half the population being around our age and the other half being 45+. The next day we made our way around the city sight-seeing from cool parks and ancient machinery to Napoleon's Tomb, which brought us to the famous Eiffel Tower and the hour long line-up that awaited us. We decided to take the stairs (being the obviously cheaper route) and before you know it we were out of breathe and at the first level. Kyle quickly headed up to the second level while Tenille and I mosied around and took our time. Once we got up to the second level Kyle was nowhere to be found, so asumming he carried on to the top we took the elevator up as well. Again, nowhere to be found. What a few Mister Eiffel had to offer though, we gained a perspective on how big Paris actually is and despite being against the rules I ripped up one of our maps, made a paper airplane and tossed it valiently over the edge and watched it descend for about a minute towards the ground. Having lost him for about 3 hours we were releived to find Kyle sitting at the bottom of the tower waiting for us with just enough time to witness a policeman chase off about 20 of the 150 Somalian Eiffel toy hustlers that roamed the Eiffel grounds (hilarious!). On this night we decided to have a bit more of a gameplan and head to a popular club mentioned in Europe on a Shoestring called The Rex club. Which didnt come before pre-drinking in our hostel with a guy and a girl from Austrailia and mercying the guy to the toilets. The Rex club was an experience, besides the heavy base and dubstep music being the main attraction the best part was no matter how weird you danced the person next to you was doing something twice as weird. Off to the wine famous city of Bordeaux and a new story.

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