4/50: 54 Hours in Paris

Browsing the stalls along the river

Paris had never been top of my ‘ I want to travel to…’ list.  Despite numerous friends raving about their experiences, it just didn’t hold a great appeal for me.  However, my aim this year to enjoy proximity travel, combined with a visit from my cousin and her boyfriend from the US prompted me to finally book a ticket on the Eurostar.  Mister Cousin would be enjoying his maiden voyage outside of the states and so it felt like a great opportunity to introduce him to a little bit of life on the continent.  Add to that the novelty factor of being able to board a train in London and jump off 2 ¼ hours later in Paris and we were all convinced.

Eiffel Tower

The general consensus from friends was that “Paris is expensive” yet we didn’t have much money to spend at all.  We managed to get the Eurostar tickets far enough in advance that they were only £29.50 each way (as we’re all under 26) and I found a hostel which looked reasonable at only £23 a night per person, including breakfast. We planned to take a bag full of snacky food to keep us going during the day and to buy food from supermarkets rather than restaurants for our larger meals.  Being under 26 meant we were able to get cheap or free entry to most of the major tourist sites.  Even on such a budget we were only able to afford to stay for two nights and I worried we wouldn’t be able to fit a lot into that time.  Oh, how wrong I was.

Our train out of Kings Cross St. Pancras left at 08:00.  Ordinarily it’s about a 45 minute journey to the station from home, yet luckily we have a connection in the form of a local pub manager who allowed us to sleep in his pub, 5 minutes around the corner from the station.  After a rather uncomfortable night’s sleep we dragged ourselves around to the station to check in with just enough time to grab breakfast from M&S before boarding our train.  This being my first experience on the Eurostar I was in awe at the beautifully sleek trains which offered exceedingly comfortable and spacious seating.  With barely perceptible movement we were suddenly gliding out of the station and slipping unnoticed through East London on our way towards the coast.  The tunnel, at 39km, is the longest undersea tunnel in the world yet it takes us no more than 20 minutes from dipping down into the rolling green hills of South England to emerging in similar scenery in Northern France.

Paris

Even in that short of a time we find ourselves in a land one hour ahead of the previous, where they speak a different language, use a different currency and drive on the other side of the road. Mister Cousin, as someone who regularly travels 1000miles within his own country just to get to college, finds this a little difficult to fathom.  With the effects of a night spent on the floor of a pub weighing of us, it’s not long before we’re all asleep as we’re whisked towards the capital.

Arriving in Paris was a manic affair as we attempted to find the correct route to get ourselves on the metro and to our hostel.  Luckily my parents had given us some of their leftover metro tickets and so we didn’t need to join the angry queues.  Instead we sauntered past, trying not to appear too smug, and got ourselves on the pink line to Place D’Italie.  As a lifelong user of the London Underground I found the Paris metro very easy to use.  The trains, although slightly smaller than those on the underground, are far less packed with angry and smelly commuters and as a result: far more pleasant to ride.  It’s common place to have a busker on your carriage who play their instrument of choice through a few stations and then come around collecting money.  My feelings about this tradition seem to be entirely linked to the quality of music.

Second Hand Books

We arrived at the Oops hostel on Les Gobelines in need of food and a shower.  Unfortunately we couldn’t check in until 4pm so the shower wasn’t an option, but this is where the packed lunch really came into its own.  The Oops hostel itself was lovely.  Recently decorated it offers a clean, bright and cheery base in Paris.  Partly because we wanted to get a jump-start on the sight-seeing, but mostly because we weren’t allowed in our rooms yet, we headed out to the Mouffetard.

Pont D'amore

In our first 6 hours we managed to see and do plenty:  We meandered through cobbled streets, admired the Pont D’amore, refused to stand in the long line for Notre Dame, took a tour bus around the city, wandered around the main piazza in the Louvre, drunk an overpriced espresso and ate the first of many crepes.  I even managed to foil a gypsy who I saw attempting to perform a scam involving a gold ring on two very vulnerable looking tourists.  I’m still waiting to see what the effects are of being cursed by a Parisian gypsy.

For our first night we bought several very cheap bottles of wine from the supermarket (about 3 euros each), four randomly selected cheeses, 2 fresh baguettes and 2kg of grapes.  We took it all up to the gardens around the Louvre intending to have a picnic.  At which point, it promptly started to rain.   So we found ourselves, slightly soggy, by one of the bridges eating camembert on fresh bread as the sun began to set.

Bridge Picnic

The river boats paraded up and down in front of us displaying their more affluent diners.  None of whom seemed to be laughing as much as ourselves.  The wine bottles empty and the sun fully set, it’s time to go to a bar. With limited choices, due to it being holiday season, we end up in ‘The Student Bar’.  Here we order overpriced cocktails with questionable amounts of alcohol.  We hit the 14 hour mark. It’s been a busy day so we drink up and head home to sleep before our full day of sightseeing tomorrow.

The Oops hostel provides breakfast until 09:30.  Forever the student/backpacker, I refuse to miss a free meal simply because I didn’t get enough sleep the night before.  It turns out I’m the only one stubborn enough to actually make it.  But it was worth dragging myself out of bed for: A large fresh croissant and fresh bread roll with butter and jam.  Fruit juice, tea or coffee.  Two different types of cereal. More than enough to prepare you for a busy day.  By the time 09:30 ticks by and there’s still no movement from the others I take myself over to the Boulangerie to buy them some pastries.  A quick stop at the supermarket for some ice tea, apples and Kinder Buenos and I’m looking forward to my impending brownie points.  On the way back to the hostel I daydream about moving to Paris.  About living in a tiny studio loft with a balcony decorated with beautiful red flowers.  Of skipping off to the shop to buy fresh baguettes in the morning.  And of speaking perfect French.

My fears that the others would have woken up and wondered where I was were completely unfounded.  The room is still dark when I return and the cheese from the night before is beginning to make its presence known.  I open the curtains, throw away the cheese and encourage some movement towards the outside.

The Louvre

We had intended to start our day by visiting the Louvre, but as soon as we arrived it became obvious this wasn’t going to work.  The queue for entry stretched back through two of the museums courtyards and I’d estimate it would have taken us four hours to get to the door.  With only 54 hours available to us, this simply wasn’t an option.  So instead, we started walking out of the back of the Louvre area into the gardens and along towards the Champs Elysees.

Feeding the Birds

On the way we came across a large fountain and a man holding up bread with which to feed the birds.  He’d hold a chunk at arm’s length and the seagulls would take a long, gliding swoop and snatch it out of his fingers. As he saw us watching he offered Miss Cousin a piece.  She was, it turns out, a natural. A little further along our route and it’s time for another crepe stop.  Already we find ourselves wondering how we will cope without this vital element to our diet when we’re back home.

We amble along the Champs Elysees, studiously avoiding the shops intent on encouraging us to spend our limited budget.

The view from the Arc de Triomphe

Instead we make it to the Arc de Triomphe and are delighted to find that firstly, there is no queue and secondly, our entry as UK citizens under 26 is free.  The view from the top quickly helps us forget the 284 step climb and we use the telescopes to spy on the people on the top of the Eiffel Tower.  Which is, in fact, where we find ourselves that evening.  We owe another of my cousins a bunch of flowers for recommending we book our tower ticket in advance.  She saved us a four hour queue alongside some very angry individuals.  All we had to do was arrive at our allotted time, wait for about 10 minutes and then we were straight in.  The security guy glanced his eyes over our bottle of champagne and waved us towards the lifts.

The first lift takes you to the top of the ‘legs’ where you can get in another lift to take you to the viewing level.

Eiffel Tower

There were loads of people queuing to get up to the next level and we worried we’d miss sunset – something we’d aimed to catch.  Luckily this was not the case.  We were squeezed into another lift and propelled to tummy-turning heights just in time to see the beautiful city of Paris laid out before us.  The sky gradually turned a dusty orange colour as the sun set on our one full day in the city that I rapidly realised I was falling for.  Without any real certainty that it wasn’t allowed we snuck our champagne out, noisily popped the cork and poured it into our plastic flutes.  Fortunately, they looked exactly the same as the champagne flutes sold by the bar at the top of the tower.  For 10 euros per glass.  We toasted each other as the top of the tower celebrated sunset with strobe lighting.

We’d misjudged how far away from our hostel we were as we began walking with an idea to find a crepe shop on the way.  An hour later with some very tired feet and an exasperated look at the map we were asked by two members of the Gendarme if everything was alright or if we needed help.  We found ourselves looking rather silly as, at midnight, we got across in broken French that we were looking for a crepe shop.  Their reply was: “a creperie, en Paris?” with the implication that only the British could manage to be so useless as to not manage to find a creperie.  But find one we did. Eventually.  Miss Cousin had two and Mister Cousin discovered a crepe containing beef, egg, cheese and mushrooms.  Things were suddenly looking up.

Paris at Sunset

Back to the hostel and as we ticked over into our 38^th hour in Paris we all fell into a deep sleep.

We did all make it to the free breakfast the following morning.  Two cups of coffee later and Miss Cousin claimed to feel brand new.  Mister Cousin wasn’t looking so sure.  We gathered all of our belongings, bid the hostel farewell and went to see what adventure we could squeeze into our last six hours.  We rode the Metro up towards the river where we disembarked and promptly went looking for a crepe.  The creperie was next to several souvenir shops and so the next twenty minutes was spent cooing at pictures of cats and haggling with a stubborn Frenchman.  When Miss Cousin could eventually be dragged away, cats in hand, we skipped off towards Plage De’Paris.  A great deal of effort (and money) has been spent turning the riverside along the Seine from merely a concrete tunnel to an inviting and enjoyable space.  And they seem to have succeeded with crowds of people jostling to get to the sun loungers and to play beach badminton.  We, however, bought a hop-on, hop-off ferry ticket which would take us on a round trip from Notre Dame at one end to the Eiffel Tower at the other. (Only 13 Euros)

Souvenir Shopping

Before we hopped on we made a slight detour back to the Pont D’amore.  We’d purchased our own little locks from a hardware store (only 2 Euros, compared to the 6 charged by the souvenir shops) and a compass with which we attempted an engraving. Our little ceremony complete, we settled down to enjoy the boat ride to the Eiffel Tower.

With the clock ticking, the drive to buy souvenirs was raging and the Americans found themselves with quite a selection which would, at some point, need to be jostled into their suitcases.  Still, we found plenty of time to perform some amateur acrobatics in front of the Eiffel Tower while attempting not to stand on any of the broken glass, champagne cork wire or condom wrappers.  Suddenly we found ourselves very short on time and there were still more souvenirs to be bought.  So we queued for another boat which we took to the Saint Germain.  The minutes are ticking by faster than usual as the merits of various postcards are considered and suddenly: We’re late.  So we run.  Run for the metro, pace up and down on the metro, run off the metro, up the stairs, searching for the Eurostar check in, up more stairs.  Breathe.  We’ve found it.  We’re going through.  Landing cards?  Which landing cards?  No, our American friends knew nothing of landing cards.  Yes of course they’ll fill them out now. We have 20 minutes.  Paperwork completed, run through security, find our gate.  Breathe.  10 minutes.  Just enough time to grab an overpriced baguette and a beer.

We'll always have Paris

As our 54^th hour is up we find ourselves once more on a train gliding, this time, towards England.  I find myself reflecting on how great it feels to use my time so completely.  No, I couldn’t continue at that pace forever, but it feels good to look back on the previous 2 ¼ days and feel I have achieved something.  It’s a luxury for me, something not easily achieved as I pretend to be a part of the rat race.   It reminds me of how I want to feel: as though I’m making the most of my time.  For now, I’ll continue in my pretence at conformity.  But adventures are looming and a new life awaits.

More posts like this:

1. Photo Friday: Paris Pont D'amore In the shadow of  Notre Dame where this...