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I had previously been to gay Paris twice before my most recent visit in the summer of 2011. Once had been at the tender age of 9 for my mother’s 30
thbirthday which I do not recall too much of and the second was a first year college trip to Disney land Paris with just one day spent in the city itself, where the main highlight of a cold rainy October day was stealing stupid merchandise from French gift shops.
My third encounter was my most pleasant experience although at the time parts of it felt like a horror movie waiting to happen. It started at Paris Nord after a 6 hour journey from Amsterdam. Feeling egger to have a snooze me and my companion’s for the last 4 hours had to wait in a queue to book tickets to Lyon for the next day as we had all been to Paris before and didn’t feel like spending too long a time in the city. After the stuffy, sweaty, and tiring all deal of confirming seats we decided to see some of the sites that the made the city internationally loved, with the hope to also finally fall in love with
it.
We took a bus across the city to the iconic Eiffel Tower. On this bus I final gazed my eyes on the Moulin Rouge for thirty seconds while stuck in the hectic French traffic. It could be said that the Moulin Rouge was one of the major attractions that I had not seen on my previous experiences in Paris, the only attraction that I have yet to see in this famous location is Père Lachaise Cemetery. We finally arrived at the Eiffel Tower and took all the tourist photos and walked to a nearby café for a few glasses of wine as one does while in Paris. Coincidently two of the three fellow travellers that I had meet were celebrating their third anniversary funnily enough in the city of love not that they cared at all. Three bottles of the cheapest red wine were consumed as we all hailed in the new day and their third year of love.
Being pressured to leave by staff and management we left, not leaving a tip as French hospitality was not at its best. We decided to walk the 4.1 miles to the Gare de Lyon which according to google
only takes 14 minutes but doesn’t take into account a person’s alcohol consumption. As we walked through the Champ de Mars to return to the iron lady to access the road, we encountered some of Paris’ title of ‘the city of love’ in practise in the bushes, so romantic. I would recommend travelling Paris at night as there are no annoying tourists baring one’s self. Only issue with this is it can feel at times that you are being followed and sometimes it transpires you are, on several occasions I remember running down the old empty roads, I also recommend not running on a belly full of wine. Though the perks of this is that there is something round every corner, as we discover as we happened upon Notre Dame, the grand structure sits there quite iconically but somewhat unassuming.
After the 2 and an half hour walk tad longer than googles prediction, mind we did stop every so often to look at the grand architecture, take pictures of amusing French sign posts, pick each other up if one of us fell over and avoid creepy figures hanging on street corners. Arriving at the Gare de Lyon we found
out that this shelter from the rain was closed and we soon discovered that all the homeless people of the area also used it as a shelter from the rain. We found a little out cove to shelter. Smoking is not recommended while surrounded by homeless Frenchmen, as they all want one and by the time you have finished handing what you have left the ones that did not get one will give you a menacing look of anger and curse you in French. While sheltering the scale of the homeless problem that faces this district of Paris becomes rather apparent when a flash of lightening lights up the sky and you can see a mass of at least 80 dark figures hiding in an overpass. This is the moment that I felt truly unsafe. Any trouble started here and I would fear for my life. 6 o’clock came and the mass of French hobos proceed to the other side of the station to be let in. Once we got into the station we finally felt some fraction of safety and finally slept a little as armed guards chased the homeless out of the station.
This time in Paris was the scariest time I have ever experienced in my life, but looking back on it was the best. It showed me a different side to Paris a side that is hidden from the public’s attention. I saw the attractions that the city had to offer all light up at night, I sampled the culture of French nightlife, and it had the danger side that any adrenaline junkie would love. I cannot really say why I enjoyed this time in Paris more than the others but I did, I felt like I had lived one day of George Orwell’s Down and Out in Paris and London. I’d never suggest exploring the areas out of the comfort zones of Paris at night unless you are very sure of yourself.
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