Well, my first day in Paris was nothing short of "interesting". I arrived in Paris Monday night and hadn't slept since Saturday evening, so "rested" I was far from, and I looked every step of a 2 day old woken marathon.
Charlotte and her mother picked me up from the Gare de Nord train station around 7 pm on Monday night and although it was so incredibly invigorating to finally be in MY city (and to see my friend), I really struggled through dinner. The food I can already tell is going to prove to be the nemesis of my ass, although with all of the walking required, I may have a perfect match for eating the way that I want to.
Charlotte's place is very quaint and what I imagined to be "Paris-like". We took the train to a metro station very near her place in the 14th arrondisement near Cite Universite. She has two roommates in a place about the size of my living room and kitchen. This, however, proves to be very efficient after a long day of walking around the city. You simply turn 90 degrees to be in the kitchen, another 90 to be in the bedroom--180 and you're in the shower and voila! You've just had breakfast, taken a shower and gotten dressed all within a 360 turn (no walking required!).
She's absolutely the most generous hostess ever--just as I knew she would be. She immediately asked me what my plans for the morning were and then went into "planning-mode" (good thing someone was in one!) to map out how I would get where I was going most efficiently.
Mostly, I just needed to run errands to get things like a towel, electrical outlet adapter, key to her house made, writing tablet and sketchbook and a backpack. Simple enough, right?
The BHV, where I was to purchase these items, was half way across the city and meant that I would need to switch subway trains three times and take the tram. Might as well get right on with learning the metro system!
Charlotte's house is near this amazingly beautiful little park that I needed to cut through to get to the station. At the corner of the park was a little restaurant serving breakfast, so that morning, I stopped and took a table outside facing the little park.
I ordered orange juice and what I thought was a croissant--I guess they didn't have croissants because the waiter just brought me a big basket full of very heavily buttered bread. I'm trying to keep the size of my ass where it is right now so I wasn't all that excited to see that my breakfast was going to be a basket full of carbs and fat but it took only about half of a minute for me to change my mind about that!
The bread--WOW--I don't even know how to describe it. Besides saying that it was "fresh like it had just come out of the oven"--only it hadn't. It wasn't hot, but you could definitely tell it was "today's bread". It was soft and not too dense and the butter was--well--fabulous. Worth every calorie.
Then came my favorite breakfast experience: the orange juice. There shouldn't be any other kind of orange juice on the planet--and it wasn't even freshly squeezed! This was just the typical, bottled orange juice of France. I was in love! It tasted like sunrise in your mouth. SOO amazing.
So...I finished up my amazingly simple but delicious breakfast and headed into the park to cut through to the metro station, errand list in hand. It was 11:15 am.
First of all, I should paint a picture of myself: It's Tuesday morning and I haven't had a shower since Sunday morning. I haven't slept more than 6 hours in 72 hours. I had on jeans, tennis shoes and a t-shirt. I looked like hell.
Keeping that in mind: I hadn't walked 15 steps into the park when I notice two guys about my age sitting on a park bench to my right. They were eyeing me the whole way until I passed in front of them and was met with two very friendly french "bon jours". They seemed nice enough (from how much I could tell by hearing two french words come out of their mouths) so I said "bon jour" in return. They asked where I was going. I guess carrying around a map is a dead give away that you might be a tourist and need "help" finding your way around.
I showed them where I was trying to go and although Charlotte had given me specific instructions on how to get there (which I was following) these two "gents" told me that I was going the wrong way. I explained my path and they both agreed that I could get there that way, but that there was a much shorter way to get there and that, of course, they would be happy to show me where it was.
Now...in this moment, I had a feeling/thought that I should just continue along Charlotte's way, but then something (as usual) told me not to be rude and discount the advice of the locals (even though Charlotte was one) and so I decided to let the boys show me the "shortcut".
Almost immediately after agreeing to this, one of them was touching me on the back--like kind of 'guiding' me with his hand on where we were going. I like to be touched, don't get me wrong, but like most people--only when I want to be. This completely un-nerved me and I guess he could see it and removed his hand and looked at me and said in his best, but not good English: "Don't be afraid. Friends" and he pointed to himself and his friend. "Friends" indeed.
We had a nice chat for approximately 2 blocks. They had some nice compliments--(please keep in mind what I looked like) and then the conversation started to become very "interesting" when one of them looks at me and asks if I want to have sex with him. Yes, just like that: "Do you want to have sex with me?". Hmm...so much for taking it slow!
I obviously responded with a "no" and kept walking, trying to ignore him as much as possible--which apparently in French translates to: "try harder". For the next 6 or so blocks, I got a full on description of how large his dick was and how I could expect him to pleasure me with it.
Like myself, I know you're wondering why I endured even ONE block of this--much less SIX. Simple. I was now lost and scared. Two of my least favorite things to be. I actually "needed" these guys to help me get to the metro now since the map that Charlotte gave me was completely worthless. My third least favorite feeling: "needing" someone else--especially THESE "someones".
But I did, so I continued on with a very nervous look on my face apparently. One of them continued with the questions and marketing of his dick. He even asked to borrow my map book to use as a ruler to show me the exact length and girth of it.
Note to men: When gauging the size of your dick and showing that gauge to a potential partner, make sure you use something that doesn't have the words "pocket-size" on it. The humor in that lightened my thoughts for at least 3 blocks of his schpiel--but nevertheless, I was never so happy to say goodbye to two people in my life. They actually took me the LONG way around, but I found the BHV with the help of a very kind "Sebastian", who was everything opposite of the two I had just encountered.
I couldn't believe how weak the American dollar was--or how expensive it was to exchange money! I exchanged $400 and between the loss of value between the dollar and the Euro plus the rate of commission for the exchange, I now had 240 Euros, which is practically 240 dollars. NOT happy about that!!
I entered the BHV and was pleasantly surprised to find the coolest "all in one" store I've ever been in! It's a combo of Macy's, Ikea, and art supply store and a mini Barnes and Noble all in one!
The prices however, reflected this convenience. I paid 30 Euros for a towel. 10 Euros for the electrical adapter, 10 Euros for anti-bacterial gel, 8 Euros for eyedrops, 4 Euros for Kleenex and 16 Euros for cheap shampoo, totalling 78 Euros (about $125 dollars!) for basic necessities! AGH! But I could now take a shower and wash/dry my hair, so--THAT was a good thing!
Now I just had to deal with getting back to Charlotte's house from half way across the City. This would be my first subway experience alone and while I prefer typically to just "take the bull by the horns" and get something done, I was a little anxious, to be honest.
I remembered how dangerous the subways in Mexico were and while walking down the stairs and into the station, the sights and sounds and smells all reminded me of this and un-nerved me nearly to the point of turning around and trying to walk back home. But I realized that I was never going to get comfortable with it that way, so I pulled out my map to try to figure out which way to go.
I knew I needed to be on Metro Line 4 back to Cite Universite, but the line obviously runs two ways. That 'obviousness" not being "obvious" enough to me until I sat through three incorrect stops before realizing I got on the right Metro, but in the wrong direction.
So--I got off and went the other way. I lost maybe 45 minutes on that little mistake but realized that it's about the worst that can happen. Big deal. I'm not in a hurry and now I feel less anxious about making that mistake again.
On my way out of the station, there was a man with a nice big smile that handed me a flyer that said, "Are you good enough to get to Heaven?". As I had some time on the tramway home from there, I was curious to know: "Am I good enough to go to Heaven?".
For anyone else that's curious about it like I was, according to page four, I am, in fact, NOT good enough to go to Heaven. I'm glad that's cleared up. It only took a missed train in Paris to figure it out.
All in all, it was a very much a "learning" day. It was now 6 pm and I had only a few hours to get home, get showered and get back out and to the Smashing Pumpkins concert.
I had a new towel, an electrical adapter, a key to Charlotte's place, some kleenex, shampoo, sketching paper and eyedrops and the knowledge that I wasn't going to Heaven after all and it only cost me 78 Euros, 7 hours, a few incorrect stops on the train and two big dicks later, but I was finally "home" and "clean".
I think I'm gonna love Paris.
