Mon Cherie / Je Taime Paris

First Night in Europe. First Night in Paris. Crepe Sucre et un cafe.


Bonjour Americanos! Getting my first international phone card at the London King's Cross (That's where Harry Potter gets on the train at Platform 9 and three-quarters!!! No - I didn't meet Hermione Granger. That would have been too good to be true.) I checked in and the customs official, who smiled and said, "Is this your first time in Paris?" with a distinct french accent. I shly said yes and he met me with a wink and "Well, this will be quite special for you, then. Surprisingly, as soon as I stepped through that customs gate with the France stamp on my passport, it was a different world. The counter staff in the gift shops and cafes in the terminal all spoke French and I could see some of them trying not to laugh at me. There's something to be said for being an American. French, especially, seem to assume you don't know anything. Or, that there is always a smile playing just behind their face. Hard to tell what they are thinking. (Intelligence, I think, is another way of putting it. They are quite sly.) I met a 14-year old Parisian who started speaking French to me right away and this is only because I had used a few words. "Bonjour" and "Comment tal y vous?" were some of the basics. Fourteen years old and traveling with a summer group to London! This is what I'm talking about --traveling internationally at such a young age. What a wonderful experience. She was friendly as soon as I explained I spoke very little. Sweet girl. Her and I had issues with our ticket so we had to wait inbetween cars until we could get a "tip up" for cancelled seats and get an actual seat on the train. Interesting how that works. I also met a Parisian on the train, when I sat down. She was originally from London, though, so she spoke to me in English quite easily and helped me find the correct rail to get into the part of the city I needed for my very first night's stay in Europe. I was quite a bit tired and I guarantee I looked like a jack-in-the-box on the double decker tour and on the Eurostar train to Paris - but all of it added up to a certain amount of sleep so I dragged my but to the metro for travel by Ligne une (Line 1) to (9) for exit at Voltaire. My new Parisian friend also introduced me to her husband and he handed me a ticket for the metro. Didn't even have to buy one. What luck!

As I was catching my metro from Gar De Nord to Ligne Une, I peeked outside and saw a few of the distinct lamplights Paris is known for. I couldn't help but light up inside. I cannot believe I'm here, I thought. It was a moment where I felt tears of happiness fill up inside. I didn't cry but I had that sensation creeping up to my throat where I felt a lot of emotion at once. I don't think London quite hit me in the same way because a) They speak English, b) It has character, but somehow reminded me of New York (In a good way...but still not quite the shock I was expecting). I hopped on the lignes and made it safely to Voltaire, although once I hopped up the stairs, only to discover I couldn´t find my bus `46` to ´Japy´. It was getting darker, so instead of panicking, I walked around the same block twice trying to find the stop. On the second turn around, carrying all of my heavy baggage, I found my bus, pulling away. I ran after the bus, as well I could with my extra weight pulling on my shoulders, and the bus driver turned to me long enough to shake his head, as if to say, `No, no, no, mademoiselle. I don´t think so. You, American, you!` I turned right around and decided to make my way to ´Japy`, even though I had directions on no kind from the hostel. Just a sign pointing a certain way. The french locals were trying not to laugh as I passed the same 2 cafes three times, at least. Made it to Hotel Richard, pronouned o/tel Ree/sh/ah, and checked in. Decided I couldn´t wait to jump in the shower, and made my bed. I´m so glad I brought my sheets with me! Pleasantly surprised to discover that although I was on the third floor, I wasn´t sharing with anyone but me. A whole room to myself. Tres bon! In Europe, The third floor means 4 floors up from the ground on a very narrow staircase. I´ve already become accustomed to this on my third day here.) Couldn´t wait to eat something and made my way to the same cafe in which I´m sure my American navigation skills were witnessed. The bartender-server provided me with un cafe et crepe sucre. Not only did I observe a wonderful meal /I love pastries for a late lunch°dinner. Whatever~ A frenchman offered to buy me a drink, and he ended up buying me dinner. Voila! So salade fous de gras later and I met some good/looking frenchman in the second restaurant we went to. Picture below~ and then went to Rue de Lappe for some dancing. I end up coming home late, but safely, and met my first friends from the hostel. The conversations were of very little substance as it was after 2am. Nonetheless. A great first day.