So Paris.... Let me start this off by saying that Paris has got to be simultaneously the most beautiful and offensive city in the world. It is a city full of the most extreme beauty ....and also most extreme bullshit.
Our first night in Paris, was wonderful. Upon arriving off the Chunnel from London, the streets were filthy and littered with trash, smoke, and cigarette butts and there were nefarious looking gypsies and machete wielding hotel Rwanda movie lookalikes everywhere yelling at us. It was a stark contrast to London where the city felt impeccably clean and safe, but the energy in Paris was unmistakable. Our hostel (St. Christopher's De Nord) was a quick 5 minute walk from the train station and was .. Well basically just super cool with a big bar downstairs, great wifi, clean rooms, and lots of fun folk from around the globe.
Natalie's beautiful cousin Erin serendipitously happens to live in a small town outside of Paris and picked us up and took us to one of the most amazing meals I've ever had. Note- I tried foie gras and it was amazing. Sorry animal activists but it's time we brought this stuff back to the states- it's seriously too good. After an incredibly lavish meal thanks to the amazingly benevolent Erin who wined and dined us, we headed back to the hostel.
Natalie and I briefly conversed with some Aussies at the hostel bar who showed us photos of Amsterdam and this super cool basement party they went to (note- remember to attend a basement party when in Amsterdam!) and then headed to sleep. Another note, mixed dorms are not the business. This time we were in an 8 bed, not a 26 and though the folk were friendly it was unbearable listening to them all pack up at 7am while we were still sleeping.
On our next day in Paris Natalie and I decided to split up for a bit. Natalie opted to spend time with her wonderful cousin to enjoy some r&r and I hopped on a bus for a solo tour of Versailles.
Of all the places I have been so far in Europe and perhaps my entire life, nothing has taken my breath away quite like the gardens of Versailles. Versailles itself is certainly a site to be seen, but in all it's opulence it somehow fails to surprise you- with perhaps the exception being it's size which is quite impossible to imagine. The castle is much like you'd expect with gold adornments all about, exaggerated embellishment, and more art than all the galleries in Europe combined. It's like if Bombay company and a fancy Chinese restaurant had a baby - that would be the rooms of Versailles. It is certainly worth seeing and paying the pretty price to do so but that said, the castle is worth seeing once - the gardens are worth coming every day and, by the looks of it, many French do.
The gardens stretch for miles and miles and are somewhat like a maze. As you walk through the lush rows of trees you feel a sense of privacy and reflection, not often or ever found in large scale tourist attractions.
I grabbed some food at a nearby cafe and wandered through the maze, eventually coming to a beautiful fountain and a pond.
As I sat down on the cool green grass eating my macaroons and brie/baguette sandwich, I could see the castle peaking out the lush landscape of the gardens and watched as people laughed, cycled, and took little boats into the pond and ate ice cream. The sun shone through the clouds and there was a light wind blowing through the air - I'd like to think that if there is a heaven, I hope it looks and feels like these gardens because in that moment sitting beneath that tree in the surrounding beauty and watching the world go by, I could not imagine anything more wonderfully peaceful or beautiful.
I took the hotel van back from Versailles (which is an hour drive without traffic). Our driver took us the scenic route meaning we drove through the arc de triumphe and passed about a zillion historical monuments. I felt like the star on every American teeny bopper movie known to man when the young American tourist sticks her head out the window with a gaping grin as all the French people smile and secretly mock her. Eventually, after several hours in traffic, I found my way back to the hostel.
When I got back to my room, all my stuff was gone and there was a post it note that said "you've been moved. Come see reception". Apparently this is considered ok. Hysterical I rushed to reception in a mad hysterical American rage. In the end, all I got was my new room key and a post it note that said "two free drinks" and a smiley face. When I finally got to the room, I found Natalie and a slew of other recently displaced hostelers who had all found their belongings in garbage bags. We laughed it off, unpacked, and decided to hit the town. As they say, roll with the punches.
Natalie's cousin had taken us to dinner on Tuesday in the "Marie" (pronounced mur-Ray but in a classy way) so we decided to have dinner there and then try to find this hot new club called "Yo Yo" at the palace de Tokyo which all the Parisians are all about. Walking the Marie district, I at first was thrilled to discover it was just full of men! And they were all so well dressed! We found our way into this awesome restaurant which was playing french music and had sexy purple lights. It was only after we sat down that we noticed the photo above Natalie's head (a giant poster of a rugged football player with purple lights swirling around it) and it hit us that we had unknowingly wandered onto the K street corner of Paris. Our intuition was confirmed when we asked the waiter what the wifi (pronounced wee-fee) password was and it was "imbeautifull". In our defense, winding up in the "gay quarter" of Paris is pretty easy since nearly every Parisian man looks, sounds, and acts extremely gay. Unlike in the states, it's nearly impossible to differentiate a straight Parisian from a not straight one. Finding a cab after dinner proved somewhat difficult (as if it want hard enough being an American in Paris, now we were also the only heterosexuals in all male gay territory. It was like the tune of "one of these is not like the other" was following us around).
Eventually, we flagged down a cab. The driver, who looked like a confused and more African Whoopie Goldberg, immediately informed us that she spoke absolutely no English. "No problem! A la Yo Yo si vois pleis!" And we then gave her the address which we had screen shotted on our phones. She plugged the address into her phone and off we went. That is until we realized we were getting further and further into what looks like the French version of Martin Luther King Jr blvd. She abruptly stopped on a dark graffiti laden street corner just as we exited a tunnel full of hundreds of sleeping gypsies and proudly declared "se bon!" Followed by a get out now motion. I'd like to point out, there was no sign anywhere saying YoYo and it was quite clear that there was absolutely nothing happening on this street but crime and debauchery (and not the good kind we were looking for). It was literally like the French version of Sodom and Gomorrah out here. Nat and I immediately went into full on panic, tearing through her French translation book. Fun fact, strangely enough the words "scared" and "afraid" are not included in the fast phrase french book and I think they should be because what happened next had to be the most comical display of charades I have ever attempted as I exclaimed "no! Se mal! Un problem!" And then made screamy faces while pointing outside and shaking my head to get the point across that there was no way we were leaving the cab.
French Whoopie finally caught on to my charades and started doing some charades of her own which I'm pretty sure would directly translate into "you better pay me or I'll sell you to the gypsies outside" so we asked her to take us back to the hostel and made payment motions. In the end - we paid $30 euros to see the side of Paris you'd rather not see from a cab. Try #1 to experience French nightlife - fail. We were also bummed to find out our hostel ,which we'd only booked for 2 nights in Paris because we'd planned on staying with Natalie's cousin the 3rd night until her school schedule got crazy, didn't have room for us to stay another night. I could see the fear in the young things eyes who were staying in our mixed dorm when we told them we didn't have a place for the next evening, but Nat and I remained pretty calm about it (perhaps we were finally acclimating to our new found vagabond lifestyle)
Our calmness paid off because at 3:30am a spot opened up at a hostel down the street ("safe place hostel") and we booked it.
Our next day in Paris, Natalie and I went to the hilariously named "safe place hostel" and checked in for our last night in the city. Our lack of planning turned out great because we ended up with a private room with a shower and an adorable balcony! (Later that night our balcony would provide us a truly french experience while getting ready when we caught a creepy French man a balcony up smoking a cigarette, having a drink, and quite literally watching us the way someone watches a show on TV. When Natalie looked at him with horror, he winked at her and raised his glass. Only the French...)
Anyways, our last day in Paris we hit the louvre and the Eiffel Tower. The louvre was amazing. Natalie and I managed to schmeagol our way in without waiting in line for tickets or for the museum. The trick is to buy your tickets with cash in the carousel gift shop which is about 10 ft before you get to the actual louvre. This saved us about an hour or two of waiting in line with the literal thousands of tourists buying tickets at the big glass triangle. Then we went into the museum from a side entrance at the lions rather than the main entrance which probably saves us 30-45 minutes of line waiting. The lions entrance isn't as popular because the first thing you see is the African and Mesopotamian art, but Nat and I cruised by the pots and masks and bee-lined it to the Mona Lisa. The Mona Lisa hysteria was comical. The photo is literally just a little bigger than my high school yearbook and there must have been 200 Asian tourists clamoring around it for a picture. (note amongst those Asian tourists were also two obnoxious American women pushing their way to the front named Natalie and Laine). Seeing the Mona Lisa, even tiny as it was, was really amazing. There's nothing quite like seeing something you've seen in your textbook come to life in front of you. And you know what... She really does look like she's smiling.
Next, we headed to the Greek/Roman section to see the statue of Aphrodite which is where Natalie and I really started to appreciate the art in our own ... Well special way. (See photos below). Eventually our antics did catch the attention of a particularly snooty french curator who scolded us with his eyes in a way only the French can do.
After several hours at the louvre, we set out in the direction of the Eiffel Tower, grabbed some goodies at a local patisserie, and some champagne at a store quite literally called "the Asian store". The Eiffel tour was great, but what was even better was honestly just sitting on the grass, sipping champagne, eating yummy pastries with my friend, and pretending to only speak Spanish so the gypsies would leave us alone.
As the sun begin to set, we hailed a cab and were delighted to find ourselves in the cab of a French Canadian. (Love Canadians). Equally delighted was the driver upon finding we were Americans (I can promise you that in France this NEVER happens). She immediately popped in her favorite French country music CD for our listening pleasure. I had no idea french country existed but I can tell you, it was just as ridiculous as you could imagine especially with our cab driver singing (loudly) along to it.
Wanting to head to Cinque Terre the next day and finally start using our Eurail pass, we went to the train station to activate it and figure out the ticket situation. This is when we realized that Eurail passes suck. (For a better explanation, visit my post titled "why Eurail passes suck")
We were told that all the trains to Italy were already booked for Eurail users (France only allows a small number of Eurail users on every train) and to come back in the morning. Dejected that we may never be able to leave this god forsaken country, Nat and I did what any good American would do- purchased a bottle of whiskey, got gussied up, drank the whiskey, and headed out to the infamous nightclub in the basement of the Moulin Rouge called "Le machine".
When we got to the club, we were bummed to be told by the bouncers that it was closed. (This was before the realization hit us that the French are liars). The bouncers pointed us to the English pub next door full of Aussie and American college students singing Avicci and said "that one is good- you'll like it" and then... They laughed.
Natalie and I decided to leave and make one more attempt to find yo yo to and we did. It looked amazing. We walked up to the bouncers and they said, "it's closed. Every place in Paris is closed tonight."
We left, once again confused. That is, until we hailed yet another cab and he creeped on Natalie and informed us that all the bouncers were lying, that it was in fact "ladies night", and they simply weren't letting us in because we are Americans. If you can hear that sound, it was the sound of our egos (the egos that were once inflated by being escorted into some of Las Vegas's best clubs) breaking.
We made one last ditch effort to enjoy Paris's nightlife at Buddha Bar where our cabbie assured us we would be let in. And they did let us in. We ordered two martinis, the bartender laughed at us, and then they brought us the bill....34 euro (aka $46). Having been a waitress for many years, I could see from
The receipt that this was not the fixed price in the POS system, but rather had been typed in. We paid our bill and firmly decided that the rumors are true - the French really are assholes.
After getting back to our hostel- we made a vow that the next morning we would, somehow someway, find a train out of France before they took any more of our money... And dignity.
At the train station the next morning we waited in line at the Eurail stand, "validated" our pass (whatever that means) and inquired about getting the hell out of France. The little Frenchman informed us that trains to Italy were still all booked.
"But we must leave France!" We exclaimed with so much passion the little mans eyes popped out.
Desperate to leave this mean country that seemed to be quite literally raping us of our money and laughing at us, I said (much to the mans surprise) "where can you take us that is south and out of this country?".
We scored 2 of the last seats left on a train that afternoon leaving to Lausanne, Switzerland (which had been on our original travel itinerary ,though we'd cancelled our hostel reservation). Nat and I swooped it. Like leafs in the wind, our adventure was just revving up.
True to the Parisian way, the train situation was ridiculous. There were about 30 more people slammed into the car then there were seats making us unable to get to our seats though someone had taken them anyways. Most of those on the train had no ticket. We finally found seats in another car. The entire route, no one ever checked our ticket nor did we see a single person who actually worked there- making reserving our ticket totally unnecessary.
France was beautiful, but the Parisians really are a-holes. We couldn't have been more excited when that train took off for gorgeous Switzerland... Or so we thought .... Because Lausanne turned out to be more beautiful and awesome than we could have ever imagined.
Our first night in Paris, was wonderful. Upon arriving off the Chunnel from London, the streets were filthy and littered with trash, smoke, and cigarette butts and there were nefarious looking gypsies and machete wielding hotel Rwanda movie lookalikes everywhere yelling at us. It was a stark contrast to London where the city felt impeccably clean and safe, but the energy in Paris was unmistakable. Our hostel (St. Christopher's De Nord) was a quick 5 minute walk from the train station and was .. Well basically just super cool with a big bar downstairs, great wifi, clean rooms, and lots of fun folk from around the globe.
Natalie's beautiful cousin Erin serendipitously happens to live in a small town outside of Paris and picked us up and took us to one of the most amazing meals I've ever had. Note- I tried foie gras and it was amazing. Sorry animal activists but it's time we brought this stuff back to the states- it's seriously too good. After an incredibly lavish meal thanks to the amazingly benevolent Erin who wined and dined us, we headed back to the hostel.
(Here's Myself and Natalie lovingly sandwiching her awesome cousin Erin after our decadent Parisian Meal)
On our next day in Paris Natalie and I decided to split up for a bit. Natalie opted to spend time with her wonderful cousin to enjoy some r&r and I hopped on a bus for a solo tour of Versailles.
Of all the places I have been so far in Europe and perhaps my entire life, nothing has taken my breath away quite like the gardens of Versailles. Versailles itself is certainly a site to be seen, but in all it's opulence it somehow fails to surprise you- with perhaps the exception being it's size which is quite impossible to imagine. The castle is much like you'd expect with gold adornments all about, exaggerated embellishment, and more art than all the galleries in Europe combined. It's like if Bombay company and a fancy Chinese restaurant had a baby - that would be the rooms of Versailles. It is certainly worth seeing and paying the pretty price to do so but that said, the castle is worth seeing once - the gardens are worth coming every day and, by the looks of it, many French do.
The gardens stretch for miles and miles and are somewhat like a maze. As you walk through the lush rows of trees you feel a sense of privacy and reflection, not often or ever found in large scale tourist attractions.
I grabbed some food at a nearby cafe and wandered through the maze, eventually coming to a beautiful fountain and a pond.
As I sat down on the cool green grass eating my macaroons and brie/baguette sandwich, I could see the castle peaking out the lush landscape of the gardens and watched as people laughed, cycled, and took little boats into the pond and ate ice cream. The sun shone through the clouds and there was a light wind blowing through the air - I'd like to think that if there is a heaven, I hope it looks and feels like these gardens because in that moment sitting beneath that tree in the surrounding beauty and watching the world go by, I could not imagine anything more wonderfully peaceful or beautiful.
(Versailles Selfie Shot...couldn't resist)
I took the hotel van back from Versailles (which is an hour drive without traffic). Our driver took us the scenic route meaning we drove through the arc de triumphe and passed about a zillion historical monuments. I felt like the star on every American teeny bopper movie known to man when the young American tourist sticks her head out the window with a gaping grin as all the French people smile and secretly mock her. Eventually, after several hours in traffic, I found my way back to the hostel.
When I got back to my room, all my stuff was gone and there was a post it note that said "you've been moved. Come see reception". Apparently this is considered ok. Hysterical I rushed to reception in a mad hysterical American rage. In the end, all I got was my new room key and a post it note that said "two free drinks" and a smiley face. When I finally got to the room, I found Natalie and a slew of other recently displaced hostelers who had all found their belongings in garbage bags. We laughed it off, unpacked, and decided to hit the town. As they say, roll with the punches.
Natalie's cousin had taken us to dinner on Tuesday in the "Marie" (pronounced mur-Ray but in a classy way) so we decided to have dinner there and then try to find this hot new club called "Yo Yo" at the palace de Tokyo which all the Parisians are all about. Walking the Marie district, I at first was thrilled to discover it was just full of men! And they were all so well dressed! We found our way into this awesome restaurant which was playing french music and had sexy purple lights. It was only after we sat down that we noticed the photo above Natalie's head (a giant poster of a rugged football player with purple lights swirling around it) and it hit us that we had unknowingly wandered onto the K street corner of Paris. Our intuition was confirmed when we asked the waiter what the wifi (pronounced wee-fee) password was and it was "imbeautifull". In our defense, winding up in the "gay quarter" of Paris is pretty easy since nearly every Parisian man looks, sounds, and acts extremely gay. Unlike in the states, it's nearly impossible to differentiate a straight Parisian from a not straight one. Finding a cab after dinner proved somewhat difficult (as if it want hard enough being an American in Paris, now we were also the only heterosexuals in all male gay territory. It was like the tune of "one of these is not like the other" was following us around).
(The poster that made us realize we were in the gayest restaurant ever)
Eventually, we flagged down a cab. The driver, who looked like a confused and more African Whoopie Goldberg, immediately informed us that she spoke absolutely no English. "No problem! A la Yo Yo si vois pleis!" And we then gave her the address which we had screen shotted on our phones. She plugged the address into her phone and off we went. That is until we realized we were getting further and further into what looks like the French version of Martin Luther King Jr blvd. She abruptly stopped on a dark graffiti laden street corner just as we exited a tunnel full of hundreds of sleeping gypsies and proudly declared "se bon!" Followed by a get out now motion. I'd like to point out, there was no sign anywhere saying YoYo and it was quite clear that there was absolutely nothing happening on this street but crime and debauchery (and not the good kind we were looking for). It was literally like the French version of Sodom and Gomorrah out here. Nat and I immediately went into full on panic, tearing through her French translation book. Fun fact, strangely enough the words "scared" and "afraid" are not included in the fast phrase french book and I think they should be because what happened next had to be the most comical display of charades I have ever attempted as I exclaimed "no! Se mal! Un problem!" And then made screamy faces while pointing outside and shaking my head to get the point across that there was no way we were leaving the cab.
French Whoopie finally caught on to my charades and started doing some charades of her own which I'm pretty sure would directly translate into "you better pay me or I'll sell you to the gypsies outside" so we asked her to take us back to the hostel and made payment motions. In the end - we paid $30 euros to see the side of Paris you'd rather not see from a cab. Try #1 to experience French nightlife - fail. We were also bummed to find out our hostel ,which we'd only booked for 2 nights in Paris because we'd planned on staying with Natalie's cousin the 3rd night until her school schedule got crazy, didn't have room for us to stay another night. I could see the fear in the young things eyes who were staying in our mixed dorm when we told them we didn't have a place for the next evening, but Nat and I remained pretty calm about it (perhaps we were finally acclimating to our new found vagabond lifestyle)
Our calmness paid off because at 3:30am a spot opened up at a hostel down the street ("safe place hostel") and we booked it.
Our next day in Paris, Natalie and I went to the hilariously named "safe place hostel" and checked in for our last night in the city. Our lack of planning turned out great because we ended up with a private room with a shower and an adorable balcony! (Later that night our balcony would provide us a truly french experience while getting ready when we caught a creepy French man a balcony up smoking a cigarette, having a drink, and quite literally watching us the way someone watches a show on TV. When Natalie looked at him with horror, he winked at her and raised his glass. Only the French...)
Anyways, our last day in Paris we hit the louvre and the Eiffel Tower. The louvre was amazing. Natalie and I managed to schmeagol our way in without waiting in line for tickets or for the museum. The trick is to buy your tickets with cash in the carousel gift shop which is about 10 ft before you get to the actual louvre. This saved us about an hour or two of waiting in line with the literal thousands of tourists buying tickets at the big glass triangle. Then we went into the museum from a side entrance at the lions rather than the main entrance which probably saves us 30-45 minutes of line waiting. The lions entrance isn't as popular because the first thing you see is the African and Mesopotamian art, but Nat and I cruised by the pots and masks and bee-lined it to the Mona Lisa. The Mona Lisa hysteria was comical. The photo is literally just a little bigger than my high school yearbook and there must have been 200 Asian tourists clamoring around it for a picture. (note amongst those Asian tourists were also two obnoxious American women pushing their way to the front named Natalie and Laine). Seeing the Mona Lisa, even tiny as it was, was really amazing. There's nothing quite like seeing something you've seen in your textbook come to life in front of you. And you know what... She really does look like she's smiling.
Next, we headed to the Greek/Roman section to see the statue of Aphrodite which is where Natalie and I really started to appreciate the art in our own ... Well special way. (See photos below). Eventually our antics did catch the attention of a particularly snooty french curator who scolded us with his eyes in a way only the French can do.
(See below of our Louvre Montage)
After several hours at the louvre, we set out in the direction of the Eiffel Tower, grabbed some goodies at a local patisserie, and some champagne at a store quite literally called "the Asian store". The Eiffel tour was great, but what was even better was honestly just sitting on the grass, sipping champagne, eating yummy pastries with my friend, and pretending to only speak Spanish so the gypsies would leave us alone.
As the sun begin to set, we hailed a cab and were delighted to find ourselves in the cab of a French Canadian. (Love Canadians). Equally delighted was the driver upon finding we were Americans (I can promise you that in France this NEVER happens). She immediately popped in her favorite French country music CD for our listening pleasure. I had no idea french country existed but I can tell you, it was just as ridiculous as you could imagine especially with our cab driver singing (loudly) along to it.
Wanting to head to Cinque Terre the next day and finally start using our Eurail pass, we went to the train station to activate it and figure out the ticket situation. This is when we realized that Eurail passes suck. (For a better explanation, visit my post titled "why Eurail passes suck")
We were told that all the trains to Italy were already booked for Eurail users (France only allows a small number of Eurail users on every train) and to come back in the morning. Dejected that we may never be able to leave this god forsaken country, Nat and I did what any good American would do- purchased a bottle of whiskey, got gussied up, drank the whiskey, and headed out to the infamous nightclub in the basement of the Moulin Rouge called "Le machine".
When we got to the club, we were bummed to be told by the bouncers that it was closed. (This was before the realization hit us that the French are liars). The bouncers pointed us to the English pub next door full of Aussie and American college students singing Avicci and said "that one is good- you'll like it" and then... They laughed.
Natalie and I decided to leave and make one more attempt to find yo yo to and we did. It looked amazing. We walked up to the bouncers and they said, "it's closed. Every place in Paris is closed tonight."
We left, once again confused. That is, until we hailed yet another cab and he creeped on Natalie and informed us that all the bouncers were lying, that it was in fact "ladies night", and they simply weren't letting us in because we are Americans. If you can hear that sound, it was the sound of our egos (the egos that were once inflated by being escorted into some of Las Vegas's best clubs) breaking.
We made one last ditch effort to enjoy Paris's nightlife at Buddha Bar where our cabbie assured us we would be let in. And they did let us in. We ordered two martinis, the bartender laughed at us, and then they brought us the bill....34 euro (aka $46). Having been a waitress for many years, I could see from
The receipt that this was not the fixed price in the POS system, but rather had been typed in. We paid our bill and firmly decided that the rumors are true - the French really are assholes.
After getting back to our hostel- we made a vow that the next morning we would, somehow someway, find a train out of France before they took any more of our money... And dignity.
At the train station the next morning we waited in line at the Eurail stand, "validated" our pass (whatever that means) and inquired about getting the hell out of France. The little Frenchman informed us that trains to Italy were still all booked.
"But we must leave France!" We exclaimed with so much passion the little mans eyes popped out.
Desperate to leave this mean country that seemed to be quite literally raping us of our money and laughing at us, I said (much to the mans surprise) "where can you take us that is south and out of this country?".
We scored 2 of the last seats left on a train that afternoon leaving to Lausanne, Switzerland (which had been on our original travel itinerary ,though we'd cancelled our hostel reservation). Nat and I swooped it. Like leafs in the wind, our adventure was just revving up.
True to the Parisian way, the train situation was ridiculous. There were about 30 more people slammed into the car then there were seats making us unable to get to our seats though someone had taken them anyways. Most of those on the train had no ticket. We finally found seats in another car. The entire route, no one ever checked our ticket nor did we see a single person who actually worked there- making reserving our ticket totally unnecessary.
France was beautiful, but the Parisians really are a-holes. We couldn't have been more excited when that train took off for gorgeous Switzerland... Or so we thought .... Because Lausanne turned out to be more beautiful and awesome than we could have ever imagined.
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