Paris, je t'aime

It's been a while since I last blogged, so this'll be a long one. There's a lot to cover. I'd better start with Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. It was a totally awesome show, they're a rocking band, Jon has amazing stage presence (though I only got a couple of glimpses of him since I'm so short I had to stand on tippytoes/jump to get a look at him). They were totally tight and rocked the place from top to bottom. There wasn't any moshing (not allowed) but to be honest I prefer it that way (yes call me a wimp if you like but I don't particularly like being elbowed in the face while I'm trying to listen to music). The crowd was into it though and we had a great time. I met a girl there, Ceri (friend of a friend of a friend) who's really cool and we had some good chats - we'd only met each other for ten minutes before we were discussing the "alternative lifestyles" of our friends (I'm not trying to be PC, it's just the only term that covers all the possibilities) and also all the details of our own love lives! I love people who are open like that. She told me she might be able to get hold of a ticket for me for Arthur Miller's "View From A Bridge", which was sold out at the time (that Saturday was closing night). She ended up coming through for me (go Ceri) and the play was totally awesome.

The play was Saturday morning, then Saturday night I met up with my friend Kyle who I met on the Scandi/Russia tour. Actually we met up in the afternoon for a couple of pints before the play, and they (Kyle and his mate Aaron who actually is Kyle's sister Amy's boyfriend - did that make any sense?) introduced me to Martin, this guy they met in the hostel when Kyle and Aaron flicked on the light switch in the morning to find Martin relieving himself in the corner of the room. Exactly how that led to him coming to have a drink with us I don't know, but in the end it worked out well as Martin promised us a free bottle of wine at the restaurant he was working at that night. We dutifully turned up at the restaurant at about half eight and Martin seated us and was very professional (must have been difficult thanks to previous events). We ordered dinner and the promised bottle of wine was produced (cheers Martin). Before we'd even finished that bottle, Martin appeared with a second one. Then a round of shots. Then another round of shots. Needless to say before we'd left the restaurant I was a little tipsy. Add a couple of whiskys at some random Temple Bar pubs and that was the end of me. Though I did manage, in my slightly inebriated state, to have an intelligent conversation about the US education and political system with this American chick we ran into. She was studying education and intended to teach at special needs schools, which she reckons are badly underfunded. No surprises there, special needs are badly underfunded everywhere, not just the US. Anyway we had a great night, and poor Kyle had to be up at dead o'clock in the morning to catch his plane home. How he made it I don't know. Needless to say, Sunday was a quiet day, full of bed rest and such.

Tuesday night Ceri invited me to go see "Lady Salsa" with her and her mates. We were to meet at a bar called Traffic at seven. I was there at seven on the dot but no Ceri. No worries, I just went to the bar to order a drink and got chatting to the barman, Connor. This is what I love about Ireland. I've never had so many conversations with random strangers as here. Irish people are just so friendly, and are always up for a chat. I know barmen are supposed to be friendly and chatty, but they've never actually lived up to the stereotype except in Ireland. Anyway Connor had spent some time in Sydney and so we chatted about that, and working in the hospitality industry, and so on, until about half seven when Ceri showed up. We hung out a bit with her mates and then went on to the show. Long story short the show was pretty crap, so we left in the interval to grab some tapas and a drink. Somewhere between sitting down at the pub and getting up to get the tapas, I was separated from my wallet, never to be reunited. Unfortunately that meant the next day was blind panic trying to cancel my credit and bank cards and get new ones sent out. Thankfully Visa was totally awesome and had my replacement card and emergency cash to me by Wednesday. The people at the call centre were totally hilarious though - they work off a script, which is pretty standard for a call centre, but they stick to it to an extreme level. For instance, one of them asked me, perfectly politely, "What is your name?", before he caught himself and corrected it to, "I mean, can I have your name please Ma'am?". Then another time I asked a girl if she could tell me whether or not any purchases had been made with my card in the last 24 hours, and no kidding, this is what she said, verbatim: "Let me explain this to you Ma'am. All the records relating to your bank account are kept by your financial institution, and we have no access to those records. Therefore unfortunately I am unable to inform you whether or not any transactions have been made with your card". I nearly laughed down the phone at her only I was in such an awkward situation at the time (standing at a payphone in the middle of Grafton street at peak hour while all the people on their way to work were walking by, holding about a million pieces of paper, my mobile, my handbag, and god knows what else) that I was too anxious to laugh. I'd prefer to talk to an automated system than a person that sounds like an automated system! They were very helpful though, I have absolutely nothing bad to say about the Visa service and would recommend them to anyone (and no they didn't give me any money to say that!).

The reason I was so crazy worried about my credit card and money (thank god there wasn't any money in the wallet when I lost it) was that I was slated to go to Paris that weekend - and there was no getting out of it as the tickets were already booked. I could have changed them but to be honest I couldn't be bothered with the hassle (does that sound like me or what?). Friday finally came around and I went to the airport armed with clothes for the weekend, a little money, and my passport and confirmation number for my flight booking. I was convinced the Ryanair staff were going to laugh in my face and demand my ticket (since when can you fly without a ticket?) but they just asked for the number and issued me with my boarding pass. Weird.

Then came about two hours of intense boredom waiting to board the aeroplane. Well, that's not strictly true. It would be more accurate to say two hours of intense boredom punctuated by moments of blind panic that I had nowhere to sleep in Paris that night. See the friend I was going with, Maria, was supposed to book accommodation for herself and I for the weekend. She didn't, and didn't tell me. By the time I found out I had nothing booked, it was Thursday and the hostel I had in mind was already full. Long story short I arrived in Paris at about half ten local time, not having a clue where I was going to sleep. I had originally planned to find a somewhat comfortable spot in the airport lounge and sleep there, but the second I stepped off the plane I realised that was not going to be a viable option. Paris Beauvais is one of those dodgy Ryanair airports that are basically a couple of tin sheds with some chairs and a little kiosk inside. There was no way I was spending the night there. So after some deliberation and a little more panic I caught the bus into the city centre.

Thirteen euro and a little over an hour later, we were dropped off in the city centre, right in front of the Hotel Concorde de Lafayette, probably the most expensive hotel in Paris. No way I was sleeping there, either. By now it's about midnight and I'm wondering the streets of Paris looking for a hotel I don't have to sell my body and soul to stay in. In amongst the panic I'm actually quite taken with Paris; even though it's night, and scary, and I'm worried about stuff, I can't help noticing how cute and French everything is. From the first I knew that Paris wasn't going to be just another European city. Paris lives up to its reputation as something special.

After I'd checked out the prices in a couple of hotels, I found one that had rooms for 60 euro a night, which was probably the best I was going to get for the middle of Paris. Unfortunately they didn't have any 60 euro rooms available, but they had one for 75. This didn't sound too bad at half twelve at night so I handed over my credit card (cheers Visa) without demur. This also marked my first conversation in French (I didn't do too badly, especially given the late hour and the snooty receptionist, who, to be fair to the Parisians, was one of only two snooty people I encountered there). It was exciting to actually use some of the knowledge I learned in high school. I had a long hot shower and finally made it to bed at half one.

I'd set my alarm for 7:00 am but like that was going to happen. I think I got up at eight and left the hotel at about nine. I then encountered my next hurdle - in my rush to pack everything on Thursday night/Friday morning I forgot my Lonely Planet guide, so I didn't have a clue

a) what I wanted to do or
b) where the hell anything (including I) was.

I decided to wander aimlessly for a while and hope to stumble co-incidentally upon the Champs-Elysées. Needless to say that didn't work but I did find a cute café in which I had a typical French breakfast of croissant, tartine, café au lait and jus d'orange. However, across the road from the café was my saviour. I saw a big M and I don't mean McDonald's. What would we do without the Metro? It gets you from anywhere in the city to anywhere else with no muss or fuss. When I took a look at the Metro map I thought, "There's no way I'm going to be able to figure this out", but really it's not that complicated. I picked a station that said "Champs Elysées", and went there. I got out of the metro and there it was at the end of the road - L'Arc de Triomphe. So I strolled down the Champs Elysées - which is reeealy reeealy long I found out - and along the way I managed to find a map, hurrah! - until I made it to the Arc. It was pretty cool, and I took loads of pictures. Then I consulted my map (yay) and made my way to the Louvre. On the way I found the Seine, and at one point I turned around and there it was - the Eiffel Tower. It just came out of the blue. I didn't have time to check it out at that time, I was on a mission to see some famous art. The Louvre was amazing (once I found it). The Mona Lisa was totally underwhelming, what a disappointment! I don't pretend to be an expert on art, but I don't understand why people go on about it so much. It's a fairly dull picture of an ugly lady. Yes the perspectives are all screwy, but why does that make it amazing? Anyway, lots of the other paintings made much more of an impression on me than Lisa. The Venus de Milo was stunning though. It was really moving, but the impact was dulled by the tourists that were jostling to get a picture in front of it. They were practically committing GBH to push each other out of the way. That kind of ruined the whole atmosphere of the art. You can't really contemplate and appreciate a great sculpture while there's five or six grinning Asians in front of it with flash bulbs constantly exploding. The rest of the Louvre was great, but to be honest it doesn't really compare to the Hermitage in St. Petersburg. That was crammed chock full of incredible artworks, including two Leonardos which knocked the Mona Lisa out of the park. That said, I only spent two and a half hours or so in the Louvre, which is a crime, but I only had two days in the city!

Next up I made my way to Notre Dame, where I met up with Maria and her brother Mike. We stopped for lunch and then checked out the cathedral. From the outside it's a really old gothic cathedral complete with mad pidgeon guy out the front (no kidding - he had a bright orange wig on, and all this birdseed so he was like the "feed the birds" lady from Mary Poppins). But on the inside the place has succumbed to the ravages of crass commercialisation - confessionals that resemble seminar rooms complete with glass doors and computer screens with multimedia presentations, not to mention flashing lights and souvenir stands and such. That took away from the power of the place, but I just tried to imagine what it would have been like hundreds of years ago and tried to block out all the other rubbish.

That night we strolled down the Seine and saw it all lit up, which was incredibly romantic. One day I have to return to Paris with Mr. Right, because Paris lives up to its reputation as a totally romantic city. Before I got to Paris I thought the idea that a city could be "romantic" was complete rubbish, but Paris has infected me. We went to the Eiffel Tower which looks totally incredible at night, and to the Arc de Triomphe which is less spectacularly lit up. By this stage it was past midnight so we went back to the room to sleep as we were all wrecked. That night I slept on the floor in Maria and Mike's room, so in the end I spent an average of 37.50 a night on accommodation in Paris, since I didn't pay a cent the second night! Still expensive but not so bad for Paris (which by the way is not expensive compared to Dublin standards).

Sunday morning was a little wasted as Maria only woke up at 11:00. We went to the Eiffel Tower (again) but this time we went up and took loads of panoramic pictures of Paris. Unfortunately the queueing and all took all morning and by the time we got down again I had to make my way to the bus to get to the airport (they leave three hours before your flight). Again lots of time spent wasting time at the airport but there was one highlight, which was the conversation I had with the customs official, which was the longest conversation I had with someone in French. It went something like this:

*I hand over my passport, which is my Portuguese one since that's what I'm travelling on in Europe*
Him: *something I don't understand*
Me: "Er, sorry?"
Him: *repeats*
Me: *confused face*
Him: "What's 'Hello' in Spanish?"
Me: "Hola."
Him: "What about Portuguese?"
Me: "Er, I don't know."
Him: "But aren't you Portuguese?"
Me: "No, my grandmother and grandfather are."
Him: "So, where do you live?"
Me: "Well at the moment I live in Dublin, but I really live in Melbourne, Australia."
Him: "So you don't speak any Portuguese."
Me: "No."
Him: "But you speak good French."
Me: "Not really."
Him: "But you understand what I'm saying, and you can reply."
Me: "Yes, of course."
Him: *confused look* "Well, goodbye"
Me: "Bye."

This was all in French of course. Reading over that it doesn't seem that exciting, but the feeling that I could hold a conversation in French outside a classroom was elating. The flight back seemed looong, and I found out something when I got to Dublin airport again - arriving home and getting off the plane when there's no-one to meet you is totally depressing. When you're going somewhere it's elating to be on your own, an adventure. But arriving home you want to see a familiar face and talk crap for a while. I went to catch the bus home, and got talking to two aussies, Warwick and Amy (to anyone from Contiki reading this, I KNOW!! Weird). It was refreshing to talk to people who appreciate JJJ. I got home and all I wanted to do was fall into bed, but my lovely flatmates all said "we missed you", and they were dying to hear about my trip, so we got into a big conversation, and by the time I got to bed it was almost midnight.

Drumroll please...I'm actually going to post some pictures! These are ones I took in Paris, not all of them, but some anyway. I tried to compress them a little for those of you with slow connections, but the files are still quite large, so I'm sorry, but you'll have to be patient! Here goes!


One of the coolest things in Paris is the Metro. At its most basic, it's a public transport system that actually works, and doesn't cost a fortune. But some of the time, it's actually a beautiful marriage of form and function. Much like an Alessi kettle or a Cadillac, the Paris Metro is both functional and aesthetically pleasing. This isn't even the coolest Metro station I saw, but it was the first to catch my eye and therefore deserved a photo.

Hehe. I couldn't resist taking a picture of this as I strolled down the Champs Elysées. I saw lots of Quicksilver and Ripcurl and such in Paris and not all of it was sported by Aussies. I just thought it was hilarious to find an Aussie surf store in the capital of haute couture.

The postcard shot. Pity about the terrible weather. Although the traffic looks crazy in this shot it's pretty amazing how quiet the city is. I had no problems crossing the Champs Elysées even against the lights, and all the stories I heard about traffic insanity in Paris seemed to be unfounded. In fact, all in all Paris didn't seem to have all that many people in it. I was expecting it to be teeming with humanity much like London, but comparatively it was almost deserted! Strange.

Here's a closeup shot.

French windows! Eeeek! How cute!

I was just walking along and it popped up out of nowhere. I mean, I know it's in Paris, but I just wasn't expecting it at that particular moment, so this is my first sighting of it from across the Seine.

How's the serenity. This is my favourite shot of Paris, taken early Saturday morning by the Seine. Looking back on it I can't believe there aren't any people in the photograph. Where the hell is everyone? Anway it worked out well for me.

The Louvre. Very old and pretty as you can see.

This is Maria, the Polish girl I explored Paris with, and I poring over a map of Paris at a dinky crêperie. Not my most flattering picture, but well.

The colossal Gothic masterpiece that is Notre Dame, complete with threatening looking raincloud. How pertinent.

Big front doors of the cathedral. The one place I saw that was literally swarming with tourists.

A terrible picture of Maria and I in front of the pyramid thingy at the Louvre. What is that thing for anyway?

Postcard shot No. 2 and Mum's favourite. The Eiffel Tower is amazing at night. In fact Paris is even more beautiful at night than during the day. In fact most cities are...I'm always amazed when I look out over the Yarra from Princes Bridge, how gorgeous Melbourne is.

A not-as-good picture of La Tour Eiffel with traffic and such. I shouldn't have bought such a cheap camera. Though to be fair I haven't a clue how to use it properly. Perhaps I should read the manual?

The Seine from the top of the tower. Pretty breathtaking picture, but what you don't realise is that the experience was literally breathtaking - it's soooo windy up there, you can hardly breathe! And look how HUGE Paris is!

I don't like to swear, but look how f****** HUGE Paris is!!

Do I need to say it one more time? HUUUUGE!!

Anyway that's it for now. I'm going to post some pics of Dublin soon now that I've figured out how to get them off my camera (turns out my other memory card is corrupted, which is fantastic because I have no idea what pictures are on there so there could be some really good ones and I'll never know. Damn technology!!

By the way, I've been listening to the Corrs almost non stop for the past three days, and I must say they are very good music to work to. "Old Town" is my favourite, and they also do a good cover of R.E.M's "Everybody Hurts", which is not a patch on the original but quite moving anyway. Anyway it's past six and time for me to toddle off home...I'm still at work, though I only blog after five! Take care all.