So here I am in France. The weather is as hot as it was in SoCal, if not warmer. Paris may not be near an ocean, but the bounty of greenery that the city likes to sport keeps is cooler than it could be. Leaving my house was a terrible chore. I was losing things left and right, leaving a giant mess in my wake. I finally just gave up and stopped packing and repacking. I’m just going to get the rest of my stuff en France.
I left the airport and arrived to my temporary Paris residence to find things cramped and smaller than America. It feels like everyone drives stick here, and their notions of personal space (or lack thereof) seemed to extend to their driving practices. I figured it more prudent to close my eyes than scream at the driver about how close he was to an accident. I don’t think he would’ve minded though, he seemed to enjoy doing it to everyone else on the road. I unpacked my stuff, and tried my very very hardest to stay awake. I left Pacific time around noon. The flight was ten hours. I arrived to a nine o’clock Paris. You do that math. If I can do it, so can you :D Turns out my brain can’t function without at least a little sleep, so I conked out for three hours.
I awoke and decided to see a sight before conking out for good. I took the metro to the Basilica of Saint Dennis, the saint that walked with his head in his hands (after it was detached). Grunty and P2 opted to stay home for this one so I went alone. There was a small entrance fee, but it came with an audio guide, an awesome invention if I do say so myself. I asked for a French one, but after going through the first audio selection twice to no avail, I opted for one in anglais. The tourist sites here are very English friendly. The audio guide was interesting to say the least, filled with lots of historical facts and things I can't remember anymore. The whole thing felt like an amusement park of sorts which makes me wonder how much money they are making off of us tourists. The nice thing about this place was that it was not crowded at all, but it had all the amenities a tourist would need: nearby public transportation, gothic architecture and artwork, stained-glass windows, creepy crypts. All in all I'd say this Basilica was a good first place to visit.
The Basilica was right in front of an Arab and African district, so I visited the open air marketplace that lined the street. There was a lot of bootlegged material everywhere, so it wasn’t what I expected it to be. There was some cool fruit though. I got some peaches and grapes for 2.50 euro a pound.
Yes. I know.
The rest of the day was unmentionable, and by unmentionable, I mean I can’t mention it or else no one would continue reading. That’ll be all for my first eventful post. Bon soir.
Security at the airport was brief. Here’s a picture of Grunty and P2 at our station. We had come early, so P2 insisted we have hotdogs for lunch. I didn’t take it well on the flight, which was thankfully without any connections. P2 didn’t take the hotdogs well either so he opted to stay in his bag. Since it was a flight straight to Paris, the attendants assumed everyone spoke French. It was a nice segue into the country. I got to practice, even if it was just asking for shrimp instead of beef for dinner. I was more than a little shy about speaking up though, since I constantly felt like an imposter dealing in a foreign language. My banana juice turned into pineapples because of it. When I wasn’t sleeping, I spent my time playing “in-Flight Tetris” on the little screen on front of me. It was cramped but my first view of the Atlantic was wonderful. Hello new body of water.
Getting into the country was easy as pie. Just a five minute wait, a customs agent asking me if I spoke French (un peu), and then baggage claim. One thing I noticed about this French airport was the lack of noise D: It was eerily quiet, not much audible conversation. Is this the first piece of evidence for the American stereotype of being loud and obnoxious?? :o Grunty with my luggage. P2 stepped out to the restroom again.
I left the airport and arrived to my temporary Paris residence to find things cramped and smaller than America. It feels like everyone drives stick here, and their notions of personal space (or lack thereof) seemed to extend to their driving practices. I figured it more prudent to close my eyes than scream at the driver about how close he was to an accident. I don’t think he would’ve minded though, he seemed to enjoy doing it to everyone else on the road. I unpacked my stuff, and tried my very very hardest to stay awake. I left Pacific time around noon. The flight was ten hours. I arrived to a nine o’clock Paris. You do that math. If I can do it, so can you :D Turns out my brain can’t function without at least a little sleep, so I conked out for three hours.
I awoke and decided to see a sight before conking out for good. I took the metro to the Basilica of Saint Dennis, the saint that walked with his head in his hands (after it was detached). Grunty and P2 opted to stay home for this one so I went alone. There was a small entrance fee, but it came with an audio guide, an awesome invention if I do say so myself. I asked for a French one, but after going through the first audio selection twice to no avail, I opted for one in anglais. The tourist sites here are very English friendly. The audio guide was interesting to say the least, filled with lots of historical facts and things I can't remember anymore. The whole thing felt like an amusement park of sorts which makes me wonder how much money they are making off of us tourists. The nice thing about this place was that it was not crowded at all, but it had all the amenities a tourist would need: nearby public transportation, gothic architecture and artwork, stained-glass windows, creepy crypts. All in all I'd say this Basilica was a good first place to visit.
Yes. I know.
No comments:
Post a Comment