So, back to Paris!
The day my friend Matthieu picked me up at the bus station, he drove me back to the apartment he and his girlfriend share. Both of them had worked on making dinner that night--duck breast with a honey dressing. It was my first time trying duck, and it was really, really good! I was a little nervous to try it, but I ended up really enjoying it! There were several other parts of the meal as well, but that was so long ago, I honestly can't remember...although I know I enjoyed everything.
I spent the night in a spare bedroom in Matthieu's parents' flat, and the next morning, Matthieu and I headed out for my speedy, one-day-tour of Paris. The day started with a boat tour of Paris, which headed down the river Seine. From the river, I saw the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Invalides Bridge, and the Notre Dame Cathedral. It was really, really amazing.
When the boat ride ended, we headed to shore and walked alongside the river to the Invalides Bridge. On the way to the bridge, a woman stopped me, pointed to the ground, and said "Excuse me, the ring, is it yours?" There was a gold-looking ring on the ground, and she picked it up and handed it to me, wishing me good fortunes when she did. Then we turned to leave and a few seconds later, she called out "Excuse me, but do you have money? For food?" This was a woman who looked well-dressed and very well-fed. I told her I had no money, but I gave the ring back. She shot me a nasty glare, took the ring, and headed off. My best guess to explain this strange encounter is that this was her way of getting money from strangers--tourists, like me.
I crossed the Invalides Bridge, a bridge that I've seen in so many photos and movies that I couldn't help but be amazed by the fact that I was in Paris, crossing such an iconic bridge. This road led directly to the Invalides, a grand building with a golden dome that can be seen from several parts of the city. Matthieu and I didn't have time to tour the Invalides, but we did go into the courtyard and onto the grounds. I even got to see some soldiers! (I think that's what they were, they looked very official).
After leaving the Invalides, Matthieu and I headed toward the Eiffel Tower. We stopped for lunch, and I felt very French, eating French cheeses and drinking wine on the gardens in front of the Eiffel Tower. Looking back, the whole thing was surreal and absolutely incredible. It rained a bit, but fortunately the rain didn't amount to much. Then, it was time to go up into the tower. The line for elevators was so long that Matthieu and I agreed the stairs would be better. It was a long climb! In total, I think we climbed over 600 steps. There were two levels where we could stop and enjoy the view of Paris from high inside its iconic tower. It was an amazing experience--one that just one year ago, I could never have imagined would be possible.
This seems a fitting place to stop for today. I'll post pictures soon, and then I'll have another post to finish the story of my day in Paris. A tout a l'heure!
8.27.2012
8.12.2012
Planes, Trains, Automobiles, and More...Way More
So I realize I'm very, very late in posting my tales of France, but better late than never! Right? I hope so.
I'll start with my last two days in Scotland. My on-campus housing had ended the day before my flight to Paris, so I stayed at the Willy Wallace backpacker's hostel in Stirling. It was right by the bus stop and train station, so I didn't have to worry about getting where I needed to be. I spent my last day in Stirling roaming around the city, buying the last handful of things I needed for the trip, and picking a loaf of bread that would serve as my breakfast the next morning.
The next morning, I woke up early, packed the few things I had taken out of my backpack the night before, and headed off to the train station, loaf of bread in hand. I bought my train ticket to Glasgow-Prestwick, the airport I'd be leaving from. The first half of the train ride was about an hour through Scottish countryside straight into the heart of Glasgow, one of the largest cities in Scotland. From there, I walked ten minutes across town to one of the largest and most confusing train stations I've ever visited. On my walk, I ended up walking alongside what I assume was a breast cancer fundraising run/walk. I seem to have an impressive talent for accidentally stumbling across these things. When I got to the second train station, I bought a hot chocolate and waited for my train to come. While I was waiting, I walked around, looking for something to do, and completely by accident, I found an earlier train to the airport. I hoped on, just in time, and I was off on the second leg of my journey.
It took about another hour to arrive at Glasgow-Prestwick airport. Once I got off the train, there was a set of escalators that went up to a bridge that crossed over the highway so everyone could get into the airport. The airport itself was fairly small, since they only serve budget flights around Europe (I think only one or maybe two airlines operate out of this airport). I had arrived early--too early to check in, so I pulled out my laptop and just played games for a while. Then I decided to treat myself to lunch in the restaurant in the lobby--after all, it was my last day in Scotland!
I had a burger and chips (which would forever after return to being called 'fries') and watched the numerous reports about the barge that had been prepared for the Queen's Jubilee. Apparently it's very important that the Queen stay dry on her barge ride down the Thames--the announcers discussed precisely how the Queen would be kept dry for quite some time. After lunch, I still had some time to kill before I could check in, so I wandered through the small gift shop, knowing full well that I didn't have so much as 1 pence I could use to buy anything with.
There was some excitement when someone abandoned their bag by one of the support beams in the airport. Airport security started running around, trying to figure out who it belonged to. When they finally found the woman who claimed it, she didn't seem to speak English too well, and she just kept saying, "It's fine, it's fine!" The security guards had to keep insisting that no, it is not fine, and all bags must be attended at all times. I just sat and the corner and watched, since it was the best entertainment the airport had yet provided.
Finally, I was able to go check my bag and head off to security. I've never once had a problem in airport security before, but this time, I set off the metal detector, had to get a pat-down, and then had to have my carry-on bag dumped and searched. Now, let me just say that I had unpacked and packed this bag a hundred times to get everything to fit just right. And the security guard (the equivalent of a TSA agent) dumped the whole thing out and checked the spines of my books and my cell phones (one American, one good in Europe) for some kind of bomb residue. Once he'd determined that my bags were indeed safe to go on the plane, I was allowed to (slowly and pain-stakingly) repack my bag before continuing through the duty-free store to the lobby. The lobby was basically an area with a bunch of chairs where everyone waited for their flight to open up.
After almost another hour of waiting, the line for my flight opened up. I jumped up and hurried over to the line, not wanting to be the last person on. I got through rather quickly, though others were stopped to have their bags weighed, since all carry-ons had to weigh less than 25 kg. I had to wait in another line while all the tickets were checked, and then it was my turn. I got my seat, tucked my carry-on under the seat in front of me, and waited.
After a flight just over an hour long, I could see the French countryside out my window. We had made it. The plane landed in Paris-Beauvais, which is actually an hour's drive from Paris itself, which was my destination. I got off the plane pretty fast, and was pleasantly surprised to find that my checked bag was one of the first off the plane as well. I grabbed it and hurried to the customs desks. Customs didn't even ask any questions, just stamped by passport and waved me through. I made my way through the airport to the bus stop, so that I could catch the shuttle to Paris. I was very proud of myself when I walked up to the ticket counter and was able to say "Bonjour! Je voudrais un aller-simple, sil vous plait!" which translates to "Hello, I'd like a one-way ticket please."
The bus left about ten minutes after I'd gotten my ticket. It took another hour to get in sight of Paris, and a little longer to actually get to the bus terminal in the city. It was an amazing sight, seeing the skyline of Paris in the distance, the Eiffel Tower sliding in and out of visibility. And then, finally, I was in Paris, where my friend Matthieu met me and drove me to his house on the outskirts of Paris.
And I'll continue there later. (And this time, when I say later, I honestly don't mean three months from now)! A tout a l'heure!
I'll start with my last two days in Scotland. My on-campus housing had ended the day before my flight to Paris, so I stayed at the Willy Wallace backpacker's hostel in Stirling. It was right by the bus stop and train station, so I didn't have to worry about getting where I needed to be. I spent my last day in Stirling roaming around the city, buying the last handful of things I needed for the trip, and picking a loaf of bread that would serve as my breakfast the next morning.
The next morning, I woke up early, packed the few things I had taken out of my backpack the night before, and headed off to the train station, loaf of bread in hand. I bought my train ticket to Glasgow-Prestwick, the airport I'd be leaving from. The first half of the train ride was about an hour through Scottish countryside straight into the heart of Glasgow, one of the largest cities in Scotland. From there, I walked ten minutes across town to one of the largest and most confusing train stations I've ever visited. On my walk, I ended up walking alongside what I assume was a breast cancer fundraising run/walk. I seem to have an impressive talent for accidentally stumbling across these things. When I got to the second train station, I bought a hot chocolate and waited for my train to come. While I was waiting, I walked around, looking for something to do, and completely by accident, I found an earlier train to the airport. I hoped on, just in time, and I was off on the second leg of my journey.
It took about another hour to arrive at Glasgow-Prestwick airport. Once I got off the train, there was a set of escalators that went up to a bridge that crossed over the highway so everyone could get into the airport. The airport itself was fairly small, since they only serve budget flights around Europe (I think only one or maybe two airlines operate out of this airport). I had arrived early--too early to check in, so I pulled out my laptop and just played games for a while. Then I decided to treat myself to lunch in the restaurant in the lobby--after all, it was my last day in Scotland!
I had a burger and chips (which would forever after return to being called 'fries') and watched the numerous reports about the barge that had been prepared for the Queen's Jubilee. Apparently it's very important that the Queen stay dry on her barge ride down the Thames--the announcers discussed precisely how the Queen would be kept dry for quite some time. After lunch, I still had some time to kill before I could check in, so I wandered through the small gift shop, knowing full well that I didn't have so much as 1 pence I could use to buy anything with.
There was some excitement when someone abandoned their bag by one of the support beams in the airport. Airport security started running around, trying to figure out who it belonged to. When they finally found the woman who claimed it, she didn't seem to speak English too well, and she just kept saying, "It's fine, it's fine!" The security guards had to keep insisting that no, it is not fine, and all bags must be attended at all times. I just sat and the corner and watched, since it was the best entertainment the airport had yet provided.
Finally, I was able to go check my bag and head off to security. I've never once had a problem in airport security before, but this time, I set off the metal detector, had to get a pat-down, and then had to have my carry-on bag dumped and searched. Now, let me just say that I had unpacked and packed this bag a hundred times to get everything to fit just right. And the security guard (the equivalent of a TSA agent) dumped the whole thing out and checked the spines of my books and my cell phones (one American, one good in Europe) for some kind of bomb residue. Once he'd determined that my bags were indeed safe to go on the plane, I was allowed to (slowly and pain-stakingly) repack my bag before continuing through the duty-free store to the lobby. The lobby was basically an area with a bunch of chairs where everyone waited for their flight to open up.
After almost another hour of waiting, the line for my flight opened up. I jumped up and hurried over to the line, not wanting to be the last person on. I got through rather quickly, though others were stopped to have their bags weighed, since all carry-ons had to weigh less than 25 kg. I had to wait in another line while all the tickets were checked, and then it was my turn. I got my seat, tucked my carry-on under the seat in front of me, and waited.
After a flight just over an hour long, I could see the French countryside out my window. We had made it. The plane landed in Paris-Beauvais, which is actually an hour's drive from Paris itself, which was my destination. I got off the plane pretty fast, and was pleasantly surprised to find that my checked bag was one of the first off the plane as well. I grabbed it and hurried to the customs desks. Customs didn't even ask any questions, just stamped by passport and waved me through. I made my way through the airport to the bus stop, so that I could catch the shuttle to Paris. I was very proud of myself when I walked up to the ticket counter and was able to say "Bonjour! Je voudrais un aller-simple, sil vous plait!" which translates to "Hello, I'd like a one-way ticket please."
The bus left about ten minutes after I'd gotten my ticket. It took another hour to get in sight of Paris, and a little longer to actually get to the bus terminal in the city. It was an amazing sight, seeing the skyline of Paris in the distance, the Eiffel Tower sliding in and out of visibility. And then, finally, I was in Paris, where my friend Matthieu met me and drove me to his house on the outskirts of Paris.
And I'll continue there later. (And this time, when I say later, I honestly don't mean three months from now)! A tout a l'heure!
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