We arrived at one of Paris' several large and crowded train stations on October 24 and made a mad dash to the ticketing centre to secure reservations on our next couple of trains...to Bordeaux and to Nice. We had been forewarned by our roommates in Vienna, fellow Canadians from Toronto, that it is imperative to reserve seats in advance on trains in France, Italy and Spain, or else one could be stuck somewhere for a week to ten days...as they experienced. Good advice. Another forewarning by another roommate of ours in Switzerland (a Czech fellow who now lives and works in Germany and had basically traveled the globe) told us to brush up on our charade skills because we would most likely be doing a lot of hand waving and gesturing in France (especially Paris) because, even though many Frenchies can understand and converse in English, they simply won't...especially with tourists. Good advice. J-Sak and I figured that we'd cross that bridge when we came to it, no sense in worrying about it. That bridge came up for us pretty fast...I don't think we were in Paris half an hour yet!
We waited in a lengthy line up at the ticket centre and, finally, our turn came up. All we needed to do was book seat reservations, for the both of us, from Paris to Bordeaux and then from Bordeaux to Nice. Simple enough, right? One would think...
"Bonjour," I said. Then proceeded with our request in the best French I could muster. The young woman at the ticket counter looked us up and down as if we were skrinkley beings from an alternate universe. We could read her face: "Oh no!! English speakers!! Duck and hide!" After a few minutes of trying to convey to her what we needed, she scoffed at us in frustration, got up from her seat, and was replaced by another woman who spoke some broken English. Though none of us spoke the same language, I didn't think my request was overly complicated. Reservation...deux personnes...Paris to Bordeaux...Octobre vent-sept...sil-vous-plait. Still nothing. Just another confused and frustrated face staring back at us...
At the end of it all, we ended up having to pay for a first class ticket to Bordeaux as all of the Eurail reservations were booked solid for a week. At least this is what we were told...€ 70 in the hole. Ahh well. Though our first experience with trying to receive help from Parisians was somewhat aggravating and made out to be way more complicated than necessary, Jeni and I soon learned the Frenchie's system and could maneuver just fine. Ha!
Now on to our hostel...Ohhh our hostel...remember the cliffhanger a few posts back? (yeah, the bed bugs were only half of the cliffhanger).
We stayed at a place called Caulaincourt Square. I mention this place so that anyone reading this and thinking about hostel jumping around Europe may think twice about staying there. At your own risk I say!
We enter into the lobby where we were abruptly greeted by a middle aged, American fellow named Reggie. Hi Reggie. Check-in took half an hour...and not because there was a horrendously long line up. Nope. J-Sak and I were the only ones Reggie was helping during that delightful half hour. Now, I have to interject on my own story here because I realize that many of you reading this might think that Paris is starting out overly negative. Our first evening in Paris was nothing outstanding, I will be honest. It was actually discouraging and there were several bumps in the road that evening...but once we got the ball rolling, Paris was amazing in so many respects!
Ok, so back to Reggie. He whipped out a sheet of paper and barked at J-Sak and I to read the hostel rules. I had already read them as they were posted on an info board in the lobby, while we were initially waiting for Reggie to get his sh!t together and start the check-in process. He glared at me and made it clear that he highly doubted I had actually read all the rules. I handed him € 1 and said that I would like a set of sheets for my bed, as rule # 10 stated that we had to pay for our bed sheets. Jackass. He then proceeded to shuffle some sheets of paper around and pull out his cigarettes. Meanwhile, Jeni and I are wondering if he will ever get to the next step of checking us in, or will we be sleeping in the lobby?
"You owe € 167.57," barked Reggie. "I prefer card."
Jeni pulls out her MasterCard.
"It's only a preference," snaps Reggie again.
Jeni hands him her card. Reggie picks up a smoke and heads outside for a little break and Jeni and I stand at the counter wondering if this guy is serious? A smoke break?! We look at each other and smile a bit...just thinking about how ridiculous the past couple of hours have been. Regster decides to return, shuffle some more random papers around and asks us if we'd like to pay. Uhhh, YEAH! By this time we are thinking that maybe some of Reggie's marbles are rolling around on the hairy, moldy floor. We ask him if it's possible to split the accommodation bill in half? OHhhH no, no, no...how dare we ask that. Impossible! But, I'm sure if Reggie had a calculator, he could've done it just fine (every other hostel we had been to around Europe gladly split the bill for us).
To process the credit card, hand us our keys, bed sheets/towels and to inform us about breakfast took another ten, long minutes. Finally, we are checked in and head for the stairs, ready to drop our gear in our room. We can feel Reggie's eyes burning the back of our heads.
"Caitlin, I like you," Reggie says. "You know why? Because you are left handed and have freckles, just like me."
I had to fill out some paper work, so my left handed secret was out of the bag. And the freckles, well that's no secret! All in all, a very weird half an hour of my life. Still, to this day, J-Sak feels like chopped liver and wonders why Reggie only singled me out, haha!
We head up several flights of stairs (this is a very common theme in Paris...millions of stairs...all the time) and open the door to our humble abode, our home for the next three days. Unfortunately...
Our room held 6 beds, in a space big enough for 2. The floors looked like they had not been swept or washed in millennia. Jeni, thank gawd, wiped a sticky brown film off of the night table. There were inches of mold in every crack and crevasse of the shower. Bugs loitered around the ceiling light. Our garbage was never emptied throughout our whole stay. And, the sink had bad breath. To top it all off, we paid a hefty price to stay there...one of the most expensive hostels on our whole trip so far. It was a dump. A real dump. The only semi-redeeming quality about this hostel was that it included free breakfast which was not bad, for being free.
To boost our spirits that night, J-Sak and I figured we needed to see or do something great. We decided to head for the Eiffel Tower and check it out at night, all lit up. Wow, wow! So beautiful, and pics to come!
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| What a sight! |
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| Eiffel Tower at night! |
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| BAM! Paris! |
And so our Paris adventures begun...and though the beginning was tiring and frustrating, experiences are usually what you make of them. There was no doubt in my mind that Paris would be a city to remember.
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