Nous sommes finalement a Paris! hier soir nous avons restee a Sarcelles, et ce n'etait pas une experience Parisienne!
*We are finally in Paris! Last night, we stayed in Sarcelles, and it wasn't a Parisian experience!
When we got off of the RER, an above ground train in and around Paris, in Sarcelles, all we could see was trash on the ground, tall buildings with clothes hanging out of the windows, and only a few men on the street. When I was unable to get through the gate, one of these men prompted me to jump it, and I couldn't see any other way, so I did.
That is when it dawned on me--either no one who lives in Sarcelles can afford to pay the RER fee every day, or the machine was broken and the authorities didn't care enough about Sarcelles to come out to fix it.
Either way, Collin and I found ourselves in what looked like projects with the setting sun putting pressure on us to get us inside quickly. We were carrying tons of electronics, dragging all of our belongings, and meandering slowly while we tried to find a street sign--of which there were none.
When we finally saw a face we thought might be able to give us directions, we asked. After following the bad directions, we asked another. And another. And another. All the while trying to keep our backs away from the Dumpster-diving gypsies just feet away from the two of us with our big, cumbersome map and our otherwise vulnerable apearance.
After about an hour, we did find the hotel, and the first thing I did was cancel the remaining nights that I had already booked. Although the hotel was fine, we didn't come all the way to Paris to stay in a suburb like that--and I was willing to forfeit a few euros to get into the city ASAP.
Once we got inside, we washed our aching, blistered feet in some cold water in our relatively large bathroom. We grabbed some McDo (mac-doh is how the French say and pronounce McDonalds), and holed up un our room for the remainder of our stay.
Fortunately, we had internet access! So we were able to find the last hotel available in Paris for the next three nights for about as cheaply as we could given our late notice.
The best part of the hotel where we stayed in Sarcelles was the fact that we didn't have to check out until noon! We got up leisurely, went down to the lobby and had an expensive, but fabulous breakfast, packed our things, and figured out how we were going to take public transportatoin into and around Paris.
All the while, we interacted with Momar, the man behind the counter at the hotel. He let me speak French to him and was able to help me in English when I couldn't find the words. He even spoke Spanish to Collin while I was on the phone asking for my money back after mistakenly buying internet access when the hotel had it for free.
We left the hostel with a better idea of where we were headed and bid Monmar adieu. Once we got to the RER, we were in the heart of a run-down and dirty marketplace. But after a night's rest and plenty of hours of daylight ahead of me, I felt emboldened. I went into a store and quickly and assuredly asked where we could buy tickets for the RER.
The man didn't even give me an English sympathy answer--just straight French, which I understood perfectly!
We made our way over to les escaliers (stairs) in the direction he pointed us, and found our way around the station and up to the ticket booth.
We had some serious questions.
How the hell do we get out of Sarcelles?
Could we buy a week pass around Paris?
Would the pass work on every mode of transportation?
Will we be able to use the transportation once we get such a pass?
All of this, in French.
But I did it (we did it, but I did all the talking).
When the man tried to talk to me in English, I kept talking to him in French. I understood his French almost perfectly, and he got me all the answers I needed and wanted.
After holding up the line for a good, long 5 minutes, Collin and I got what we needed and headed into the city more confidently than we had headed anywhere in days.
We realized that we had been going nonstop for almost a week. Rushing around Dublin to see what we could before the Shamrocker Tour; quickly sprinting from place to place, hostel to hostel, bathroom to bathroom on the tour bus; touring London in a 30-hour sprint to the monuments we wanted to see; getting to the Chunnel on time to get to Paris--All of it has left us exhausted.
Now that we are in Paris, we have a few days to slow down and do this thing comfortably. We
grabbed a map and started planning the things we want to see, but we aren't out the door yet. Collin wants to see the US play in the World Cup, and I want to peel the shoes off my feet and wiggle my toes.
So that is what we are doing. We have finally arrived in a beautiful part of Paris. It is near Saint Abroise, and our hotel overlooks a small park. Our room has an iron balcony that we can stand on to breath in the warm summer air, and there are plenty of little shops and restaurants for us to explore until we are ready to venture into the city.
For lunch, we had the best pizza we've ever had in a small Italian restaurant across the street from the block we're staying on. The windows were open, so we were able to hear, see, and smell Paris passing as we ate.
Tonight, Collin is taking me out for a nice dinner to celebrate my 5th year of sobriety, which was on the 20th, but this is the first time and place we've been able to plan a nice meal.
We feel good again. After days of tight traveling and inopportune stops, we are in Paris--the City of Lights and Love!
(And the US just won their World Cup match against Algeria--qualifying for the next round, so Collin is roaring with glee!)
*We are finally in Paris! Last night, we stayed in Sarcelles, and it wasn't a Parisian experience!
When we got off of the RER, an above ground train in and around Paris, in Sarcelles, all we could see was trash on the ground, tall buildings with clothes hanging out of the windows, and only a few men on the street. When I was unable to get through the gate, one of these men prompted me to jump it, and I couldn't see any other way, so I did.
That is when it dawned on me--either no one who lives in Sarcelles can afford to pay the RER fee every day, or the machine was broken and the authorities didn't care enough about Sarcelles to come out to fix it.
Either way, Collin and I found ourselves in what looked like projects with the setting sun putting pressure on us to get us inside quickly. We were carrying tons of electronics, dragging all of our belongings, and meandering slowly while we tried to find a street sign--of which there were none.
When we finally saw a face we thought might be able to give us directions, we asked. After following the bad directions, we asked another. And another. And another. All the while trying to keep our backs away from the Dumpster-diving gypsies just feet away from the two of us with our big, cumbersome map and our otherwise vulnerable apearance.
After about an hour, we did find the hotel, and the first thing I did was cancel the remaining nights that I had already booked. Although the hotel was fine, we didn't come all the way to Paris to stay in a suburb like that--and I was willing to forfeit a few euros to get into the city ASAP.
Once we got inside, we washed our aching, blistered feet in some cold water in our relatively large bathroom. We grabbed some McDo (mac-doh is how the French say and pronounce McDonalds), and holed up un our room for the remainder of our stay.
Fortunately, we had internet access! So we were able to find the last hotel available in Paris for the next three nights for about as cheaply as we could given our late notice.
The best part of the hotel where we stayed in Sarcelles was the fact that we didn't have to check out until noon! We got up leisurely, went down to the lobby and had an expensive, but fabulous breakfast, packed our things, and figured out how we were going to take public transportatoin into and around Paris.
All the while, we interacted with Momar, the man behind the counter at the hotel. He let me speak French to him and was able to help me in English when I couldn't find the words. He even spoke Spanish to Collin while I was on the phone asking for my money back after mistakenly buying internet access when the hotel had it for free.
We left the hostel with a better idea of where we were headed and bid Monmar adieu. Once we got to the RER, we were in the heart of a run-down and dirty marketplace. But after a night's rest and plenty of hours of daylight ahead of me, I felt emboldened. I went into a store and quickly and assuredly asked where we could buy tickets for the RER.
The man didn't even give me an English sympathy answer--just straight French, which I understood perfectly!
We made our way over to les escaliers (stairs) in the direction he pointed us, and found our way around the station and up to the ticket booth.
We had some serious questions.
How the hell do we get out of Sarcelles?
Could we buy a week pass around Paris?
Would the pass work on every mode of transportation?
Will we be able to use the transportation once we get such a pass?
All of this, in French.
But I did it (we did it, but I did all the talking).
When the man tried to talk to me in English, I kept talking to him in French. I understood his French almost perfectly, and he got me all the answers I needed and wanted.
After holding up the line for a good, long 5 minutes, Collin and I got what we needed and headed into the city more confidently than we had headed anywhere in days.
We realized that we had been going nonstop for almost a week. Rushing around Dublin to see what we could before the Shamrocker Tour; quickly sprinting from place to place, hostel to hostel, bathroom to bathroom on the tour bus; touring London in a 30-hour sprint to the monuments we wanted to see; getting to the Chunnel on time to get to Paris--All of it has left us exhausted.
Now that we are in Paris, we have a few days to slow down and do this thing comfortably. We
grabbed a map and started planning the things we want to see, but we aren't out the door yet. Collin wants to see the US play in the World Cup, and I want to peel the shoes off my feet and wiggle my toes.So that is what we are doing. We have finally arrived in a beautiful part of Paris. It is near Saint Abroise, and our hotel overlooks a small park. Our room has an iron balcony that we can stand on to breath in the warm summer air, and there are plenty of little shops and restaurants for us to explore until we are ready to venture into the city.
For lunch, we had the best pizza we've ever had in a small Italian restaurant across the street from the block we're staying on. The windows were open, so we were able to hear, see, and smell Paris passing as we ate.
Tonight, Collin is taking me out for a nice dinner to celebrate my 5th year of sobriety, which was on the 20th, but this is the first time and place we've been able to plan a nice meal.
We feel good again. After days of tight traveling and inopportune stops, we are in Paris--the City of Lights and Love!
(And the US just won their World Cup match against Algeria--qualifying for the next round, so Collin is roaring with glee!)
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