"I better enjoy having my own room," I thought. "This won't happen again for a while."
Hostels for the next month or so..
So I did. I ate a sandwich, salad, a fruit (a nectarine and/or pear, and a banana!) with those addicting Carefour cookie dark chocolate things. I turned on the t.v. and watched shows in French.
I'm freaking out at the Paris metro. I looked up info literally the night before my train ride. Now I'm in Paris, in an underground network of ants marching about, speaking "sacribleu!" or however you spell it. People walk fast. It's the city. Just like d.c. Back home. But different..
I tumble my backpack to the ground and unzip the duffel bag cover. I love this thing..it keeps my backpack straps and zippers safe fron tangling on the train rack, and it makes my backpack less assuming to theft. (Because you can't see the tripod hanging on the side haha.) I fold the duffel bag into it's built-in pouch (it's the size of a tiny pillow) and stuff in in my top pocket.
Lifting my Osprey on, I continue my journey into the unknown Paris underground..
"Look, an automated ticket machine!" my mind thinks.
I get in line. It's long. I get the €10.50 out that the Internet says it will cost for a pack o' ten tickets.
The queue proceeds.
One guy ahead of me. I watch the buttons he presses.
My turn. I select pack o' ten and hey- it costs about €12 now. Darn you, inflation! You're faster than the Internet.
I enter the Paris metro.
I get on a train car.
I sit.
I...am in Paris. Exhaustion keeps my excitement in check.
Getting off at Lamarck-Calaincourt, I follow my google map snapshots and get lost. I ask a French store dude. He points me in the direction and I get lost again. Frustrated, I spend about an hour looking for the place. Time goes by. I'm losing my chance to see something tonight, like the Eiffel Tower.
The freaking map doesn't match up with where I am. Unless... That street was the walkway I saw. I go back. I take stairs. Lots of stairs.
This place is as hilly as San Francisco, in a localized walking kinda way.
It's beautiful - high trees, open space, it's got a high-building next to the park kind of feel.
But I'm mad and I hate that I lost my compass. Of all things, lol.
Finally I find a Holiday Inn (a landmark) and call the place.
"I'm at the Holiday Inn at...Rue de-" and I butcher the street name.
"Which way do I go?" I ask.
"We're between 62 and 64 on Rue de Calaincourt."
"Do I turn left or right?"
"Go uphill."
"Merci!" I say.
It reminds me of Ender's Game, how he oriented his troops with the words, " The enemy's gate is down."
I'm a dork.
I find the place. It's on top of the long stairs that I had walked down- twice. Gar!
check-in.
collapse.
Get up.
I'm going to do something tonight.
I get on the metro and test it out.
No, I'm going to the Eiffel Tower.
So I go. I change lines. The Paris metro is very good in terms of signage, corridors and different color/numbers. It reminds me a lot of the NY metro.
I'm almost at my stop. Wait, some doors don't open. Why? Are they unfriendly?
I see a curved handle on the door.
At one stop two girls on the outside try to pull the handle but it doesn't budge so they flock to the open door at the end of the car.
I'm not the only newbie here!
But two stops to go and I'm gonna have to open a door maybe. I'm somewhat feeling like huh? I'm in Paris and I'm worrying about a metro door handle?
At the next station I see a girl waiting to disembark. I watch her hand hover on the handle. I'm like an eagle, peering. It's easy, just watch other peeps do it.
Before the train stops completely she turns the handle up and it opens. Sweet. I feel like I can do this. I can exit the metro car!
Next stop I get in position. I hover my hand on that handle. Obi-wan tells me to trust my instincts and I turn the handle up. Voila, door opens, I get off, and welcome to Paris.
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