I took the Megabus from London to Paris under the cloak of night. The ride would take about 8 hours. I was worried I wouldn't get the beloved stamp in my passport this way but I was mistaken when we got to Dover port and was required to show our ID to the French police.
Let me take this moment to say that generally reading a whole bunch of travel blogs made me paranoid about having people around me see my American passport. I know in many countries, flashing your blue passport leaves you in a vulnerable position where it can be stolen and sold on the black market. Also, I was the only American in my group. I don't like being in the minority amd didn't want to be a target.
Anywho...I get my stamp and we board the ferry from Dover port that will take us into Paris.
I hadn't been on a boat in years and I really didn't enjoy the experience which dashed my Feb 2014 plans of a Mexican cruise.
It was cool though because they had everything you could want...even a station where you could charge your device for very little. You plug in your phone, pay and lock it in there for your ride. The trip took about an hour and a half.
We got to the Porte Maillot Coach Station in Paris at 7am and the first sight to greet me was the Arc du Triomphe. It was still dark. The Arc was backlit and it was beautiful.
I followed the group through the Palais de Congres which is a huge mall that housed the Metro that would take me to Montreuil where I was staying.
Travel Tip: Follow the leader. I didn't know the people I was following. We hadn't even spoken on the bus but they spoke French and they walked like they knew where they were going. Following the leader helped me in every country I visited.
We get to the Metro and of course I had no Euro and the machine didn't accept my American (no chip) cards. So, off I went to find an ATM in sleepy Paris at 7AM. None of the businesses that had one inside were open, so I went to the Palais.
I walked around in what seemed like circles in an empty mall that smelled like they pumped perfume in the air. I felt like I was walking around in a beautiful jewelry box where everything was nice and shiny. After searching, I found an ATM at un Bureau de Change, made my way to the Metro and bought a book of 10 tickets for 13.30€.
As I rode in Metro 1, it announced each stop in French. When we stopped at Bastille, the Sun rose. It was beautiful and poetic. It hit me- I'm in Paris alone and instead of feeling invigorated and excited, I began to feel sad.
I changed at Nation (pronounced Na-see-unh) for Metro 6 and it was there that I noticed the first difference between being in Paris City Center and the outer zones. You have to open the door to the train yourself to get off and on the train. I didn't realize this until I watched people getting off and on the train.
Travel Tip: Not sure what to do? Watch the locals. This helped when the next day, I was on Metro, the conductor said something (obviously in French) and everyone groaned, got off and waited for the next train.
I used
AirBnB for my stay, booking rooms in people's houses rather than hotels, thinking it would be cheaper and more authentic that way. Using my host's directions, I began to walk away from the Metro. She told me there was a small hill that I would need to walk up. She didn't tell me that at the top of the small hill is another not so small hill that by the end of walking it with my 50lb backpack on, I'd want to kill myself.
My legs burned, my chest burned but I felt victorious at the end and much like I needed to hit the gym.
She told me that the keys were in a red flower pot and she wouldn't be home but she would keep her phone on...I get there, no red pot.I searched all the pots and didn't find any keys.
I panicked. There I was, in Paris, exhausted and travel-weary....all I wanted was a nice hot shower, a nap and a day at the Louvre.
I called my host..30 times. She didn't answer and I was blowing through my travel minutes.
I broke down and cried big juicy tears. I was hysterical.
Crazy situations were running through my mind. What if she'd taken my money and had no intention of letting me stay..what if she went away and forgot and didn't leave the keys....more importantly, it was cold and damp.
A man came out of the apartment building and we locked eyes. Mine, teary and wide like a wounded kitten. His, wide and scared. Before I could say anything, he turned and walked away. This was clearly not me...the damsel in distress. I had to pull myself together and figure out a game plan.
I spied a cafe as I was walking up the hill and went inside.
Umm, Bonjour! Parlez-vous anglais?
The owner shook his head no.
His friend came into the cafe.
Comprends Anglais?
He shook his head no.
Espanol?
Portuguese.
I tried to explain the situation and that I needed to know where the nearest hotel was...the problem was..my Portuguese was closer to Spanish and his was closer to French .
I used the bathroom. I ordered a coffee and an omelet. I ate and drank while pulling myself together.
I took out my map of Paris and figured out where the hotels were and concocted Plan B. I called my host again and went back to the apartment. I ran into some of her neighbors who called her too and helped me look for the.keys. We found them. Relieved, I took around at my new temporary Paris chateau.
By that time,it was 10:30!! I took a nap. I still felt the damp Parisian chill in my bones. When I woke up, it was 1pm. I was still feeling sad about being alone. I felt like backpacking was stupid and I was wishing I was back home.
I took a shower and got dressed. I called my mom. She didn't make me feel any better. Time was wasting. My day of gazing at the Mona Lisa at the Louvre was seeming less likely of happening but I couldn't stay in the house and sulk. I decided to be spontaneous and pick a train stop, find something to eat and cheer up.
I ended up back at Nation at a cafe where the waiters spoke English. I ordered the duck confit with baked potatoes. I was happy that it didn't involve chips as every meal in London somehow included chips.
I never really had duck but it was delicious. I also had a generous helping of rose wine. For dessert, I had a small platter that included 1 macaroon, small rum cake with some rum to pour on top and a creme brulee. The creme brulee was so delicious, my eyes closed involuntarily with each bite.
I felt revived. How could I think coming to Paris was stupid? I walked to Bastille and took pictures along the way. By the time I got back, it was dark. I went into the local Tabac and got a few supplies for the night and next day.
The owner asked me a question and instead of saying Oui, I said Si. He laughed and asked where I was from. We chatted a little. He was a nice old man. As I left, in English he said, Ok, bye. You're beautiful.
Old or not, it made me smile. It was a nice end to a day that didn't start off so well.
