While walking to school on Wednesday with my friend Kelsey from school, we had the following conversation:
“So what are you doing this weekend?” I asked as we hiked up the hill.
“I’m going to Barcelona,” Kelsey replied. “What about you?”
“I’m going to Paris.”
“… That conversation was awesome.”
So, dear reader, I found myself with quite a few dilemmas with this trip which all amount to this: to go or not to go.
Morgan and I had planned this trip weeks ago when Morgan found cheap flights to Paris. We found one from Pisa and one from Bologna: 8 Euro. You read that right. Eight. Only Eight.
The trip back to Pisa was about 15. Less than 25 euro round trip flight? Hellz to the yes.
So we booked Bologna -> Paris -> Pisa. Awesome. Thursday, Friday, come back late (very late) Saturday and take a train on Sunday. Win.
Except for one thing: A mandatory business thing got scheduled for Morgan on Friday. She couldn’t go. I had already booked my flights and could have just said to hell with it and taken the loss.
Or, I could have gotten my money’s worth and gone on the trip alone. I decided to go to Paris.
By myself.
Now, I had just gone to Venice by myself, but I met up with people from school. Paris had me all by myself (I knew other people going but Venice is smaller than Paris so running into them was less likely in the City of Lights) for essentially three days.
Now. 11:39 or 1:39. Third problem: My class Franciscan class (lovingly referred to as Francey by Leigh, Mary and I) gets out at 1:30 if Dr. C doesn’t go overtime. I didn’t want to risk having to get to the station in less than 9 minutes, so I decided to skip class. I think that Dr. C, my mother, and Francey will forgive me.
So after our Italian quiz (got an A btw) I headed home to get some last minute things and took a leisurely walk to the minimetro and got to the station in plenty of time.
Trip to Bologna was uneventful, which is unusual given my last few train rides. In Bologna I checked out the major monuments, got a final helping of gelato, and wandered around for a while. Finally I made my way to the airport and got there just over 2 hours before my flight.
I couldn’t check in yet because Ryanair is dumb and wouldn’t stamp my passport (since I’m not an EU citizen) until like an hour before my boarding call (dumb and that’s never happened to me before) so I sat around.
A woman of about 25-27 approached me. Here’s how our conversation went:
Woman: “Gibberish in French??”
Me: “I don’t speak French. English?”
“No.” Stare.
“Ummm. Italiano?”
“SI SI SI!!! Mi chiamo Nadia.”
“Francesca. Posso capire l’italiano, ma puoi parlare piu lentamente per favore?” (I can understand Italian, but can you speak very slowly please?”
“Si. Parigi?”
“Si…”
Through gestures and my limited knowledge of Italian, here’s the story:
Her bag was too heavy for the carry-on weight limit, and she didn’t want to be charged extra. Could I take something from her bag and put it in mine until we got through security? She was getting married on Saturday. (I think she threw that in for sympathy points.)
If she had been older or creepier I would have said no. But she seemed desperate. And the only thing she wanted me to take was her laptop. If it had been anything that I couldn’t tell what it was, I would have refused. But no. I took her laptop and put it in my bag.
We got through everything fine and I gave her back her computer. She bought me all sorts of snacks (chips, diet coke, and a snickers) as a thanks, which was awesome since I was hungry and airports are expensive.
We sat together on the plane, but I put my headphones in, to drown out the screaming children that always seem to be on Ryanair planes, and fell asleep as I usually do. Then I had to take a 15 Euro bus into Paris, which took like an hour and a half. Awesome.
Now, since my mother was fretting about me being alone and it was after midnight, I said that I would take a cab to my first hostel. But there was a metro station nearby so I decided to chance it since it would be cheaper.
Unfortunately the metro stop was closed and the information guy was like “take the bus!” Except when I went to look at the bus thing, there were like 9832478397 buses stopping there and I didn’t feel like trying to figure one out.
So I hailed a cab at one of the Taxi signs, and climbed in. Driver didn’t know where my hostel was, so he put it in his GPS. The usual stranger conversation started:
“So where are you from?”
“America,” I replied.
“Oh. So how long are you in Paris?”
“The weekend.”
“You came all the way to Paris for one weekend?”
“No,” I said tersely, “I’m studying in Italy.”
“So you’re learning Italian?”
“… Yes…”
“No one cares about Italian. You should learn French. It’s the language of business after English. And when you learn French you can go anywhere in the world… like Africa.”
“Uhh. Okay.” Really I wanted to say, “I don’t want to go to Africa… I wanted to go to Italy.”
So after the GPS took us to a dead end, he called the hostel to confirm the address. It was correct. So he drove around some more until I spotted it. Thank God this hostel had a legit sign. He took a Euro off my meter so that left my total at… 13… which is about 12 more than I would have had to pay with the metro. Eff.
Anyway, I checked in and got into my room, waking up the two girls sleeping in there. They were nice though and I got ready and went to be really quickly.
The next day was my big day in Paris. My hostel was close, so I started out by headin’ to the Moulin Rouge, which I had passed the night before. It’s less cool during the day, so I decided I would come back at night.
A medley of songs ran through my head from the movie.
I was gonna take the metro to my next destination, but it was so nice out that I decided to walk. Ok, that’s not exactly true. I couldn’t find the metro stop so I wandered around until I saw a sign that said it wasn’t far away.
My second stop, probably pretty high up there with my favorite one in Paris, was the Opera! It’s where Phantom of the Opera takes place, and it’s AMAZING.
So in Paris I took over 350 pictures, which is over half of what I took on my entire Spring Break. My camera died by the end. Not yet, but here's the first facebook album:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=385836&id=697649967&l=2a708cf997
Next I walked to the Louvre. So much stuff. Like I could have spent a week in there and not seen everything. I was so tired from walking everywhere (I had my backpack since I couldn’t check into my second hostel and my first one was quite out of the way) so I would sit and observe at every opportunity.
I’m not reeeeeeeally an art person. I don’t understand a lot of it. I like looking at stuff I guess, but I don’t know why some art is prized more than others. Mona Lisa? Not that impressive. Some statue of Venus without arms? There are plenty of cool ones with arms. Headless woman with wings statue? Uhh cool?
But still, it was cool to be in the biggest museum in the world. I would definitely go back to it. Afer wandering, I was thirsty and wanted a snack, so I decided to get one from the café in the Louvre. It was super busy and I finally got up to the counter. Dude who took my order was definitely trying to put some moves on.
“Hi,” he started. Not proper food-service greeting in my opinion, but whatever.
“Hi can I have – “
“Where are you from?”
“Uh. New York. Can I –“
“Oh New York. Like the city?”
“No I live across the state. Can I get –“
“That’s cool. So what are you doing in Paris?”
Wtf dude. I just want some peach tea and a pistachio macaroon. Stop trying to chat me up with 300 people in line behind me.
As I finally escape to enjoy my macaroon, some guy sits down next to me. Cool, cute French boy talking on his phone. Nice. Some other tourist comes up and asks me in English where the Louvre is, so I tell him, obviously in English.
French boy hangs up phone and begins to chat:
“So you’re visiting Paris.”
“Yeah.” Obviously. I think I get more annoyed with people when I’m alone.
“So where are you from?”
“New York.”
“And how long will you be in Paris?”
“Until tomorrow.”
“Are you traveling alone?” Red flag number 1. Number 2 is that he hasn’t asked my name yet, which is usually early in the conversation.
“No, I’m meeting a friend in a little bit.” I never say “Yeah I’m alone for 3 days no big deal.”
“So where are you staying?” Red flag 3. There is no reason he needed to know that.
“With my friend. I don’t know where. Enjoy the nice weather.” I got up and walked away. I just need to be more careful alone than when in a group, and this guy was making my red flags fly. I guess it could have been harmless, but the direction was not a normal one that my conversations with others in foreign countries have taken. He didn’t even ask if I liked Paris…
After those weird encounters, I made my way to Notre Dame. I had received a tip from Tina about Paris: the Hunchback was not currently in Notre Dame. I decided to see if he went to a less frequented church, so decided to stop at St. Germaine’s church on the way.
Both of the churches were really pretty. I liked the small one since it was less crowded. Plus, there was some weird French concert thing outside Notre Dame, which was hard to maneuver through. Still, I like the churches since they’re different from the Italian ones I’m used to.
Finally I went to my second hostel of Paris (none of the hostels had dorms open both nights. I would have had to pay for a whole private room if I wanted the same one. No way.) to drop off my stuff and check in.
Check in guy asked “Who are you?”
“Francesca DiCillo.”
“No, who are you?”
“Uh. Francesca DiCillo.”
“No. Like in Italian, Come stai? You say Sto bene. Who are you?”
“Oh. You mean HOW are you. I’m fine.”
I can’t wait until I can understand people and they can understand me. In English. It was easier for me to get by with speaking Italian to people. They seemed to understand that more than English.
My next bit was to this one landmark that I guess Paris is famous for. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Yeah. I went to the Eiffel Tower.
I wanted to see the tower in both daylight and darkness, so I got there early enough to see both. The sun was still quite up at around 7, so I had to wait around. I decided that while I was there I would go up the tower.
My motto seems to be: Well, when in _____ (Insert name of whatever city I’m in that weekend)!!
So I stood in line. For like 2 hours total, what with the line to get a ticket, security, and each level of the tower has a line to get further up. It was only 11 euro. I could have taken the stairs for like 3 euro, but I think my legs would have just died. I mean, they were already screaming in agony from the amount of walking and standing I had done so far that day.
I finally got up to the top at night. I then tried about 80000 settings on my camera to get the views, but nothing can compare to how beautiful Paris is by night from such a vantage point. I stayed up there for at least half an hour.
The Tower sparkles at night. Literally sparkles. I was in the process of going up the first time it happened, then I was at the top the second time, and finally at the third time I got to see it. It was easily my favorite thing I saw in Paris. Paris holds the key to my heart, and it is apparently shaped like a sparkling Eiffel Tower.
I even uploaded a video of it because I was so impressed:
After, I got a Nutella Crepe, since I figured it would be a sin not to get a crepe in Paris.
Then I went back to see the Moulin Rouge at night. It’s much more impressive than during the day.
At this point it was at least 10:30 and I hadn’t eaten dinner yet. So I went back to my hostel since there was a nice restaurant next to it.
At dinner, I noticed people staring at me (probably since it was a nice place and I was obviously alone and don’t speak French) but none more than the couple seated closest to me.
The worst part about eating alone is that awkward time between when you order and when your food arrives. Before you order, you have a menu. When you get your food, you concentrate on eating. In between, you just get to observe. In my case, I observed that I was being observed.
The woman of the couple got up and left for a while, so while I was sitting there the man approached me.
“Blah blah blah gibberish in French and stuff I can’t understand.”
“Oh I don’t speak French.”
“Oh. Why are you so sad?”
I was confused. “I’m not sad. I’m just tired.” It was after 11 and I had literally been walking around ALL DAY.
Read this with your best French accent: “You are so sad because you do not speak French.”
“Uh. I’m not sad.”
The wife came back at this point.
“Oh my husband looks at you and says ‘look at the girl. She is so sad. She must be having problems’. Are you having problems?”
“… No.”
“See? Would you like to come sit with us anyway?”
“I was about to leave, but sure.” I paid my check then sat and chatted with them for a few minutes. Gave them the whole story. Typical first meeting stuff. I’m an American studying in Perugia and I decided to come to Paris for the weekend. No I don’t speak French. Yes, Paris is wonderful. No, I do not want to learn French… etc…
After a while I excused myself and went next door to my hostel. It was about midnight, but I wanted to shower. I wanted to just go quickly and go to bed, but my shower had other plans.
It was literally the best shower I’ve had in Europe. Hands down. I stayed in for so long because the warmth and water pressure were perfect. The only reason I finished was because my legs were literally about to give out from exhaustion.
I went to bed. The other people in my room came in at about 6 AM. Ugh.
Here's my second album:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=385840&id=697649967&l=f494df2505
Anyway, I got up way too early the next day. Like 7:30. On a Saturday.
I got to the French Tourism Center and got onto a trip to Versailles.
I was the only one who spoke English – everyone else was Brazilian or Spanish. So the tour guide had to give us the tour as we drove to the palace in three different languages. And the roads suck and the bus was rattle-y so here’s how the tour went:
“And on your left is CRASHRATTLEBOOMNOISEWTF”
For like an hour.
Versailles was awesome. At one point I texted Tina and was like “I’m in a real palace.” They had an exhibit throughout the normal museum of thrones from different countries since they’re a symbol of wealth and power and such.
The bedchambers were generally my favorites. I loved it so much. Too bad we couldn’t get to Marie Antoinette’s estate; it only opened at noon and we were leaving then. Sad. Oh well. Guess I’ll just have to go back.
I think when you’re alone people assume you want company. This is not always true, but the Brazilians seemed to think that I was sad being alone. The mother and daughter were super nice and they felt bad for me so I went with them to Sacre Coure since I had some time to kill before I had to get ready for my bus ride and flight.
The church is really pretty and is up on a hill, which makes it both breathtaking and kind of annoying to get to. But it was really nice. I did down an entire Powerade because it was so freakin’ warm outside and we had hiked up all the stairs and had to dodge all of the guys trying to sell us Eiffel Tower keychains for 1 euro.
After we explored the church, the Brazilians had to go meet another from their country for lunch, but not before suggesting I go to the Rodin Museum.
I did. It was cool. Lots of weirdly unfinished things, but cool. There were like sculptures in a park and it was free since I’m an Italian student. Win.
So I took the subway and got my bags and had a snack before heading to the bus stop. Except when I get to the metro stop and go outside, it’s POURING.
Like, a river was literally running down from the sky onto the streets of Paris. A waterfall was dumped onto, thankfully, my umbrella that I brought.
I bought my ticket and sprinted to my bus. I actually had to wait for awhile since they only let certain flights onto the buses so that people get there at the right time, but I got to the bus that said “Pise, Terminal 1.” I assumed Pise was French for Pisa, and was correct.
So I fell asleep on the bus for the ride until we got to the airport. I got off at Terminal 1 and once the bus pulled away I was ready to go. Except outside of terminal 1 there is a sign that lists all the destinations and which terminal they leave from. Terminal 2 says Pise. I was like wtf the bus said terminal 1.
Thankfully it wasn’t raining as I stood and stared at the sign. I decided to check out T1 anyway. It had Pise listed as a departure from their gate. Awesome. It started raining again, and I would have been pissed if I had to walk to T2.
I had to wait around again for my flight to be able to be checked in, so I did what I usually do. I ate things that are bad for me. Chips, chocolate mousse, and a snickers bar. Not all at once, but the flights here don’t check in as early as I’m used to.
The rest of the flight was uneventful, except for cute children. One told her mother she wanted my hair. I was impressed with her excellent choice in hair styles.
I got to Pisa and took a cab instead of trying to figure out a bus at midnight. I asked my hostel guy about daylight savings time and he had no idea what I was talking about.
So I woke up at “9” the next morning and found out that there was, in fact, a time change and that it was now 10. I wanted to change and peace out, but some guy was in the bathroom. I didn’t want to change in my room because there were 4 guys in it. They were sleeping, but still. Uncomfortable. I was gonna wait for bathroom guy, but he was in the damn bathroom from 10 until after I left. Like, come on dude.
At one point I went and knocked on the door, knowing he hadn’t come out yet, and there was no answer. So I did the best thing I could think of to check if someone was in there: I turned off the light. The light switch was outside of the bathroom so it worked. After a few seconds I heard “EXCUSE ME?” And I turned the light on and ran away. Win.
So I sucked it up and changed quickly in the bedroom so I wouldn’t miss my train that I thought was at 11:11. I get to the station (after getting a little lost) at 10:50. The line was long but I didn’t see the train listed that I was supposed to be on.
I got up to the counter.
“Isn’t there an 11:11 train to Perugia?”
“No there’s an 11:32 train now. It changed.” Oh Italy.
“Ok. So you take the 11:32 train and the train from Firenze is at 2:30. So you stay in Firenze for 2 hours.”
What. The. Eff.
See, when I get close to Perugia I just always want to get back as soon as possible. A train from Florence at 2:30 won’t get to Perugia until about 4:40. Effffffff.
I had no other options so I took it. I did have fun wandering around Florence for a while, wondering why all of the vendors sell the same things and also wondering if anyone actually buys stuff.
The train actually left Florence at 2:13 (I’m not sure if that’s what the guy actually said. 30 and 13 sound the same in English when it isn’t your first language…) so I got back to Perugia at like 4:20. I was home by 4:30 and loving life.
All in all, traveling by myself was awesome. Paris was amazing. Nothing went (too) wrong.
No more big alone trips planned for now. Just a few more weeks and I’m home. So Happy. So Sad. Confused.
I literally have 1 month left and the time is flying by. Whoa.
Ciao tutti!
Oh you... They just can't stay away can they?
ReplyDeleteLoved this post. Miss you but glad you seem to have loved Paris as much as I did!