From Charles de Gaulle airport I took a train into the city. I had wonderfully simple english directions from a lady behind a ticket window. I don’t even remember how I got to that window. The train platforms were a little confusing. I missed the train by a few seconds but I wasn’t worried because they ran frequently. The only hitch was that they cycled through the platforms and it seemed impossible for me to cross to the other side- all the escalators on my platform went down and all on the other platform went up, so I’d have way to many stairs for my tired bod and heavy luggage. I just sat for a while and took pictures of things.
Finding the hostel was a little tricky for me. I attribute this to sleep-deprivation, airplane ears, and no map. The map was probably a big part. I had a little shitty google maps blip printed from the hostel receipt that was no help at all, but the written address included the nearby cross streets. Naturally, I wandered straight into the grounds of the Louvre with all my baggage. I saw glass pyramids and a lot of Asian tourists and my first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower and I slowly looped back around.
When I finally found the place I was relieved to find that the concierge spoke fluent english. It was only 8 and the official check-in time was 2:30, so I put my bags in the luggage room and set off to wander. I walked aimlessly for a bit until I found a simple little cafe that looked promising. Anticipating caffeine and food, I gratefully sat down. Suddenly a spaceship burst forth from the floor not 15 inches away from my leg.
Just kidding, it was a lift from the basement. It was really startling though. The tiles moved and the pointed top just shot straight up. The guy in the back appreciated my surprise and the waitress was really friendly- I think they knew I was out of it. I dutifully worked on Cyranno de Bergerac while I snacked. I don’t know why I’m always surprised that I like the books I’m obligated to read… and it’s really sad that it usually takes an obligation for me to open one up.
After I paid I asked about buying a cellphone and was directed towards a shop called ‘orange’ (unfortunately closed until later in the day).
I walked a bit further to this little park with an awesome tower thingy and practically passed out on the bench. The espresso disoriented me further and I’m not sure exactly what happened. I think I finished the book, sat a bit, and then moved to a sunnier spot.
I was practically asleep when a chubby Moroccan guy started making conversation. Things got weird fast and he was kissing my face and saying he loved Americans and loved me… I’m not just being sensitive either- he was getting way to personal. Look out for Aziz, ladies. He’s mad old but he moves fast. I shouted something like “I have to go- nice to meet you” and ran back to the orange store to wait by the door. I used hand sanitizer up my arms and all over my face.
The cellphone thing was confusing. I knew kind of what I wanted- a simple tracfone or virgin mobile pay-as-you-go thing without contracts or fees or touch screens or cameras. After some language barrier struggle and an assurance that this was the cheapest phone, I walked out with a 35 euro flip phone and a 10 euro top-up. This phone is so simple I can’t even change the ringtone… it should not have been 35 euros. My American phone cost $20 and takes pictures and plays music and does al kinds of fun stuff! Oh well.
After that I shuffled back to the hostel luggage room and met two Canadian girls. They use ‘eh’ as we use ‘like.’ It was in every sentence and it was pretty hard to keep from commenting… they gave me chocolate though- two Lindt truffles. God bless the Canadians! When they left I passed out on the bench and the rest was history. When I woke up I could check in and so I did, and so I slept. Finally.
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