Monday 8th August
My time in Bruges was over. A short flying visit, these last three places have been, but now I was planning on spending some time in the romantic, light and dreamy city of Paris. The City of Lights. One of the settings from Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. I got up super early. I was needing to catch a train back to Brussels and then another onto Paris itself. Again, once I boarded the train, I pretty much fell asleep straight away. Yeah, I was feeling tired at this stage of travelling. Tired, not fatigued. I almost needed a long time doing nothing in one place and I would be feeling better. But as it stands, I was asleep on a train to Paris.
The changeover at Brussels was better this time, I asked someone where to go (and if I needed to print my ticket – I didn’t) and followed other people with backpacks on. That seemed to do the trick! I sat in my assigned seat beside a middle aged gentleman before we realised, after we had set off, that there were a tonne of seats free and so he moved away. Or maybe I just smelled. The train sped through the fields of Europe. I love that view out of the train window. Just sweeping through golden fields and seeing tiny little villages and towns far away and near the horizon.
We arrived into Paris Nord and I stepped off the train. The absolute first person I saw in Paris was a nun, running past me into the underground, headcover flying behind her. I guess she might have been late going somewhere?
The French Lady I had met in Munich at Schloss Nymphenburg had told me that you can tell if someone is a tourist if they use the metro tickets wrong. Therefore, having been told by her what to do (magnetic strip up apparently), I made my own way into the metro and on towards Nation where my hostel was. Yeah, straight away, I Loved Paris. Capital L. I could live here I reckon. Within five, ten minutes, I was once again determined to try my hand at learning a foreign language properly, French being my wish at this moment in time. I was thinking to learn it via podcasts, rather than an app. That might be fun. Useful for conversations…
I hopped off at Nation and made my way to my hostel, a small hole in the wall that opened into a large building that was on the upper floors and only accessible via elevator. I was early for check in so I put my bag into a secure storage this time, with locks and everything, and then went into the café on the top of this building that was attached to the hostel. The views were breath-taking. On the balcony, under the cover of gently flapping canvas umbrellas and with low shin-high coffee tables, I settled into a comfy chair and read. Or more like, I stared at the view. The roundabout at Nation spread out below me and the Parisian architecture showcased itself from where I was sitting. I could even see the Eiffel Tower from where I sat, a small tower poking up above the sea of flat roofs.
I read for less an hour until my room was ready, where I then took my bag and put it by my bed. This was a hostel that seemed quite commercial. I even had a little curtain to close myself off from everyone else for the first time. There was also a bunch of air conditioning at the moment and the room was quite chilly compared to outside.
I went and bought some lunch from the supermarket directly beneath the hostel on the ground floor and then ate it out in the middle of the (very large) Nation roundabout. It was almost a park. I sat under the shelter of a tree whilst the traffic went around me. There was a guy sitting in the shade of the large statue in the middle of the park, a bike parked beneath him with loud music playing from a speaker strapped to the back of the bike. I loved it so much.
After dusting off the crumbs of my baguette and humous lunch, I headed out into the city. Close by was the Cimetière du Père Lachaise where the graves of Chopin and many other famous poets and artists were buried, and so I was making my first visit in Paris to Chopin’s grave. Priorities.
Along the way, I came across a La Poste and from my time in Marseille, I knew how the system worked, and so I sent off some postcards to my brother and my parents. I arrived at the cemetery after a while. The sky was a clear blue without a cloud in sight and I was sweating by the time I arrived from the intensity of the sun, beating down on me.
The cemetery was quiet, with only a couple meandering pilgrims like me, making their ways around the place. The cemetery was the opposite to ordered. There were gravestones and large tombs everywhere, at all angles and all mixed in with each other. I managed to navigate myself to the tomb of Chopin where there were quite a few people gathered. It is quite funny. His grave is along this tiny path which is threatening to be overgrown if the gardeners take their eye off it for a day and there is no official sign except his name on the tomb. There is no pomp and circumstance, just the final resting place of this musical genius who revolutionised piano music and died at the age of only 39 in 1849. The tomb itself had a statue of a weeping women, meant to symbolise the muse of music, Euterpe. The people there were all taking a bunch of photos, posing in front of it. I personally felt that was kinda disrespectful, but I get it. I stood there for a wee while before turning on my heel and finding somewhere to sit down to listen to some of his music, specifically his ballades. Top notch music, can recommend.
I also went and saw the graves of Oscar Wilde (at which point, I made a point to listen to the Cat Empire song) and a couple of other graves which looked quite impressive. However, I was only really there to see Chopin’s grave and once that was done I wasn’t compelled to stick around any longer.
I headed out of the cemetery and wandered down through the streets of Paris to Bastille and then turned and headed back to my hostel. There was traffic everywhere, cars honking and every other building seemed to be a café spilling out onto the pavement, pervading the walkway with a suggestion of a sit-down and coffee. It would have been very easy to stop every 20 minutes if you really had no where to go and all the time in the world to get there. And a lot of money. Already I was seeing how expensive Paris is!
I had some dinner when I was back at my dorm and then headed to bed. The dorm was full of people this time, but I didn’t really talk to any of them. This seems to be the bad thing about having curtains covering the beds – you kinda isolate yourself and no conversation is encouraged, which is a shame I think.
Tuesday 9th August
The hostel was offering breakfast, so I took it, sitting up there on the balcony overlooking Paris. You can’t get a much better breakfast than this, I tell you. Fresh croissants and fresh orange juice as well. What’s not to love? I had asked my friend Ishbel (who loves Paris) for a proposed itinerary for today. What she gave me was pretty much an identical copy to what the French Girl in Munich had given me, so I figured it must be good. Therefore, I set off for the day.
Leaving the hostel, I caught the metro from Nation to Bastille where I then walked to the Place des Vosges. This was where Victor Hugo, the author of Les Misérables, lived. There were red brick houses in a square, at a slight difference from the pale Parisian colours so far, with covered pavements filled with chairs for cafés. That was a nice place to start the tour. I walked from there out to the Île de la Cité where the Cathédrale Notre-Dame was situated. Man that thing was covered in scaffolding, I could barely see anything going on. It had been gutted by a fire after all way back pre-pandemic (because “pre-pandemic” is now a defining reference for time). All the signs ringing the cathedral were thanking all the sponsors from around the world who had donated money to help fix it, as well as general information about the cathedral. They are trying to have it fixed up for 2024 since France is hosting the Olympics then and they want to unveil it for that occasion. There were a bunch of tours all around the place and I stood pretending to take photos as I listened in to one.
Next, I walked down onto the south bank of la Seine where I made my way to Shakespeare and Co. This was the book shop and café where people like Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Gertrude Stein hung out and discussed ideas and politics in the golden 1920’s. Nowadays, it was just a cute lil’ bookshop and a huge tourist attraction. Like, I kid you not, the queue was back on to the street. Pictures weren’t allowed to be taken inside but I loved it so much. It was all higgeldy-piggeldy and I had to keep ducking under beams at points. There were wonderful quotes from books and authors all pasted around the walls where bookshelves weren’t already covering the multicoloured walls. One of my favourite was “I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train” which made me crack up. That was an Oscar Wilde quote. There were cosy chairs where you could sit and read for as long as you want without anyone disturbing you and upstairs was an old second hand collection of classics. It was the book lover’s dream. This is what every bookworm ever wishes for a bookshop. Just stunning, loved it so much. There was apparently a shop cat as well, but it wasn’t anywhere to be seen and had been replaced by a pet owl, which I also didn’t see. Not doing so well on that front.
I spent a long time there, but ended up not buying anything. The prices had all been hoicked up from what they should have been in a normal bookshop. Eh, c’est la vie. Next door was a café which also had queues leading into it, hoping to get a seat. It was all so cute and Parisian and busy.
I next headed into the Latin quarter, passing other small bookshops, flower shops and bakeries. Oh, and cafés, of course. I wandered through churches too. Just, you know, casual churches with the most stunning stained glass. No biggie. I made my way to Jardin du Luxembourg since Ishbel had told me to go to the Orangerie where Monet’s lily paintings were displayed. I liked Monet, as I found out in Vienna, so I was wanting to have a look, but unfortunately, the Orangerie was closed for this week that I was in Paris. They were changing the exhibition there. Oof, unlucky timing really.
And this is where a tragedy happens. I sat for a while under the trees in the Jardin du Luxembourg. There were classes of outside yoga, people jogging around in groups with a teacher shouting encouragement beside them and kids were dressed up and heading to the tennis courts. There were even remote control sail boats on the big pond, having a race like in Stuart Little. It was a very friendly place where you could sit and people watch forever it seems. And I did that, putting my camera down on a bench and reading and watching the people. You can probably see where this is going, right?
After a small while, I got up and left to go have lunch. I leisurely strolled out, heading towards the Louvre since I had a tour starting there in a little while. I found myself a relatively cheap restaurant for lunch and ate a nice meal. After paying and thanking them in (rough) French, I packed my small bag and at that point I was like “wait, where’s my camera!?” I actually initially thought that it had been stolen or something – people had told me that pickpocketing in Paris was quite common. But I didn’t think so, I had remembered putting down my camera in the Jardin du Luxembourg and my scatter-brain self had left it there I think. Therefore, practically jogging, I went back to the Jardin du Luxembourg and back to the place where I had sat down, praying a little along the way. It wasn’t there! Disaster! Catastrophe! Cursing myself in a constant flow (cover your ears mum), I went and tried to find a park officer to ask if it had been handed in at all, my last hope. I mean, if my camera was taken, all my photos from this whole trip would have be missing and I wouldn’t be able to satisfactorily write this blog.
I found an security officer and after a quick “Pardon. Parlez vous Anglais?” I asked if a camera was handed in to which the officer laughed and smiled and replied that there had been. Phew! Disaster averted. Whoever that random citizen was who had handed my camera in, I can only thank them. The officer took me to the closest security hut and a friendly looking, bespeckled guard signed it out to me. OK. My heart can slow down now.
I sheepishly made my way past the remote sail boat racing and down to the Louvre. I had booked a free walking tour which was starting from in front of the glass pyramid. My guide was called Benoire (or just Ben) and to distinguish himself, he wore a fluorescent pink vest. He was a current PhD student writing and about to submit his thesis which was all on the origin and history of Parisian cafés and restaurants. I met a bunch of people whilst here, the one who I spoke to mainly was a Delta pilot called Lisa who was from Seattle. She had arrived into Paris just the previous evening and had a couple days before she was flying back out to the states. That was cool, picking her brains about flying and how she deals with jetlag and all that. I mainly spoke to her on the way around. Apparently it’s hard for her with respect to her kids. I can see that…
The tour was called the “Hidden Gems” tour of the city centre, but to Ben this really just meant a lot of talking about cafés and restaurants and covered passages. And cinemas. It was fun though. There were some backstreets we passed where some filming for a TV show or a film was going on. It was funny, they cover up cobble stones with foam mats printed with cobblestones and cover the seams with straw. I guess this is to reduce the noise and allow a much cleaner sound capture from the people talking on screen. Additionally, seeing how many people were there preparing the set for filming, I can really appreciate how much work goes in to making these films and TV shows, especially to make it as authentic as possible.
That was a good couple hours. It was mid-afternoon now, so I caught the metro to Pont Marie and walked to the Polish Library. Within the Polish Library was situated Chopin’s salon where he used to play and teach to patrons. Chopin wasn’t the concert pianist like Liszt was, but instead preferred to perform to small groups of people in cosy settings like his salon. This also meant that a lot of his music was never recorded (by historians, not microphones!) or written down since he used to improvise for hours at a time! Again, all this is from a Chopin biography. However, when I got to the Polish Library, it was closed! It was opening again at the end of August, but the fact still remains, I didn’t actually get to see it! Therefore, it just means that I have to come back one day! An utter tragedy!… Haha
I ate an ice cream on the wall overlooking the Seine outside the closed doors of the Polish Library, before heading back to the hostel. I sat and read for a couple hours, charging my phone, before heading out in the evening again. French Girl from Munich, and Zala from Bruges had both told me to go to a famous restaurant called L’As du Falafel. However, when I got there, the queues were massive, and there were no queues at the neighbouring falafel places sooo… I just went to these neighbouring places. It was literally the same. I saw someone walk away from L’As du Falafel with their food and it looked identical to the one I had got from the knock off surrounding falafel places.
I walked down the Rue Rivoli (which sounds like a street of pasta) as the sun was setting. It was just stunning, seeing the colour of the sky. Truly breath-taking. Mesmerising. Sensational. My new phone background. The colours were just beautiful. There were gangs of youths on bikes, doing wheelies, going down this main road into the sunset. That was funny to see.
I walked down to the Louvre again, but instead of working around the backstreets like I did with Ben earlier in the day, I set off down towards the Arc de Triomph and la Concorde. In the setting sun, the sky all lit up, the Av. des Champs Élysées was a river of red and white lights stretching in a straight line towards the Arc de Triomph. It was one of those magical evenings. It was warm and the air rippled with the heat. Off to my left was the Eiffel Tower on the back drop of a pink skyline and the French flag flew high above Grand Palais. If this is what every day was like in Paris, I would have happily stayed here forever and ever.
I walked all the way to the Arc de Triomph, a tonne of people clamouring and filling the streets, having their evening meals and going out, all dressed up fancy. This was a Tuesday. I could only imagine what a Friday or Saturday was like!
From the Arc de Triomph, I turned and headed towards the Eiffel Tower. The Eiffel Tower lights up with the sparkles at 23:00 and I was wanting to get there with some time to sit and watch the show. Basic, I know. I found a quiet spot on a sloping ramp down to the Seine and sat on the wall, back resting against a stone block and my left leg dangling over the side above the Seine. There was a newly wed couple down below me taking their photos in front of the Eiffel Tower and some people were crowded along the walls above me on the main street. The sparkles lit up, like fireflies dancing over the tower and I understood the magic that Paris contained.
I hopped on the metro back to Nation before getting into my dorm as it was approaching midnight. It was Baltic in there, someone clearly kept turning the temperature down! Everyone was asleep already, and I soon joined them.
Wednesday 10th August
OK, today was a Chopin and Liszt day today. Sorry if it’s not that exciting, but this was my trip and I’m doing what I wanted! After a breakfast on the balcony, overlooking Paris once more, I headed out into the city. Both Chopin and Liszt had lived in Paris, Chopin for a large amount of his life, and Liszt for several years whilst he cemented his reputation in Europe as the premier concert pianist.
The first place I was going to was 13 Rue de Mail where Liszt had lived once upon a time. Successfully seeing the plaque where he had lived, and I then moved on to 38 Rue de la Chaussee d’Antin where Chopin had lived for a couple years, but after catching the metro there and looking around, I could find no plaque or monument. Sadness. Instead, it had disappointingly turned into an H&M with a whole bunch of scaffolding up the side. These artists chopped and changed houses by the way, they didn’t buy one place and live there for the entire time that they were in Paris, so there were multiple places that I was going to be visiting.
I then walked out to Parc Morceau. There was supposedly a statue of Chopin here. When I got there, there were a lot of people running around the circular path around the outside of the park. It was almost like an organised run, like a Parkrun or something, except for the fact that it was a Wednesday morning. Still, I had to dodge them all and get across the path before I made my way to the western end of the park where the statue was meant to be. The memorial was indeed where I expected it to be (or at least, where the internet had said it was going to be!), beside the children’s play park. It was hidden behind a slightly overgrown bush and it was sun dappled. It was a full proper memorial as well, showing a depiction of Chopin playing at the piano, his hands lifted in exaggeration as he looked upon a weeping patron collapsed to the floor whilst a wreathed angel gazes from above. It was lovely to see, this was a proper memorial for sure!
Thing is with memorials, they don’t take long. So after looking at it for a couple minutes and reading about it, I headed on out to walk to Sacre Coeur. I had to cross the grass where a bunch of people were sunbathing and then dodge all the people running. Along the way to Sacre Coeur, I walked along quite a large road, crossing over some train tracks, before starting to climb the hill up towards Sacre Coeur. As soon as I started climbing, I seemed to have crossed an invisible line where I went from local place to a touristy place. The cathedral finally appeared above me after I had beasted the hill, sweat gathering all over my body. There were a tonne of beggars here, and a lot of people petitioning, asking for signatures for various causes. There was a guitarist singing some Ed Sheeran in a French accent and love locks, like I had seen in Cologne, were locked to the railings overlooking Paris out in front of the cathedral. I sat on a bench in front of some people skating as looked over the city. It was a pretty view from here, but I couldn’t quite see the Eiffel Tower, just achingly out of sight.
I climbed down the hill and onwards in to Place Franz Liszt. I passed a guy pushing a bike up the hill, it’s main cog missing and the chain hanging in a perfect isochronic curve. I found myself some lunch at Place Franz Liszt, ordering in French. Yeah, I really enjoy ordering in the language of the country that I am in. It makes the waiters laugh or smile encouragingly.
From there, I headed to 27 Rue Poissonnière where Chopin had also lived. However! The memorial had been covered up by a tonne of scaffolding and there was a tonne of construction happening along this stretch of road. That’s sad. I hope that when they finish, they keep the plaque up. This had been where Chopin had lived for quite a while after all. I had also passed Madame Tussauds along the way, but didn’t stop to go in. Not really in the mood to be freaked out by wax models. So yeah, that was the second place that Chopin had lived and I hadn’t seen anything due to construction! I went to the Passage de Panoramas and had myself a consolatory ice cream. That was cheering.
Next, the Eiffel Tower. I wasn’t particularly interested in going up it really, I had other plans with respect to going up a tower. However, I mean, when in Paris you should really make the effort to go stand beneath the Eiffel Tower at least I reckon! Therefore, I caught the metro as close as I could before hopping off and crossing the Seine and up to the base of the Eiffel Tower. It was a hot dusty day and all the tourists around me had kicked up a storm of dust, so I was glad my sunglasses were protecting my eyes to a certain degree. Instead, I wandered down the Champ de Mars and found a bench facing the Eiffel Tower in the shade, where I sat and read for a bit. I was close to finishing my 1000+ page book and all the storylines were coming together. It was exciting!
I caught the metro home before long and needed to charge my phone for a little bit. Yeah, OK, I give it to you, my phone was really not handling constant usage well. Whoops. I had plans for this evening, I was going to be meeting Zala from Bruges today and we were gonna head to a jazz club! The jazz club was out by the falafel place I had gone yesterday soooo… I just went there again for dinner. It was just so delicious! I watched a trio of musicians whilst I ate, waiting for Zala.
I eventually spied him out and we greeted each other with a hug, as if we hadn’t seen each other in like ten years, but instead it had been like three days. I’m not a big hugger, especially with strangers, but Zala just went for it anyway so hey ho, I’m still alive.
The first place we tried was a place called 38 Riv, but we hadn’t booked tickets and the ones they were offering us were seats out of sight of the stage. We didn’t think it was worth it. Therefore, we made our way to the next closest jazz club, Sunside Sunset, and proceeded to have a great evening! The crowd were stuffed in shoulder to shoulder with tiny little tables between every other pair of seats, really just a pole with a flattened top, somewhere to put a single drink really.
Heads were craning for a glimpse of the pianist for the entire evening, but my height helped me here. The orange lights behind him had lit up the keys to an orange colour and so it looked like he played on fire or something. The pianist had a proper PI 80s moustache and round Harry Potter glasses. He had come all the way from Argentina. He was the main act (and incredibly incredibly good) but honestly, the supporting acts were just as good. There was a kid, a literal kid, on the drums. He must have been like 15 years old? Then there was an energetic old man with a beanie on, grey hair spilling out from under it and eyebrows raised to the roof as he sang tango and played all the South American instruments. There was even a violin at one point and a couple of other acts!
Ugh, just such a good evening. This was the first time that Zala had been to a jazz club and he loved it. We went up afterwards to the pianist to say thank you, Zala having a nice conversation with him in Spanish as the pianist and I fist bumped. The Herman Jacinto trio. I have liked them on Spotify. Such a good time.
I said goodbye to Zala and caught the metro home. He had assured me that I had a place to stay in Mexico, if I ever decide to go one day! When I got back to my dorm, all my room mates were chatting about Australian prisons! As it turns out, the curtains didn’t necessarily hold back all conversation. There was a South African guy, a Brazilian guy, an Indian guy, a French lady, an English guy, a Chinese lady and little old me. How wonderfully multicultural!
Thursday 11th August
Another day, another breakfast. So today I had not really planned anything. I knew that I wanted to head to the Montparnasse tower at some point and so I jumped on the metro again, heading in that direction. I hopped off at the Jardin du Luxembourg, creeping in, hoping that none of the security guards recognise me as that guy who lost his camera the other day. I mean, of course, they won’t remember, but I still felt sheepish! I walked through here, once again seeing all the Pilate and yoga classes, all the people jogging and families out in the sun playing tennis or badminton or the such like. I headed out the other side of the Jardin du Luxembourg, heading towards the Montparnasse Tower. I actually accidentally passed the Liszt Institute along the way which was fortuitous. It was just the Hungarian embassy though, but named after Liszt.
I arrived at the Montparnasse tower and after circling it, looking for the entrance, went inside and queued to head on up. The reason I hadn’t gone up the Eiffel Tower the previous day was because I didn’t see the point. I wanted to look out over Paris with the Eiffel Tower in sight, not from it! Therefore, the Montparnasse tower was actually a better option in my mind. I happily paid the entrance fee before going up to the top and onto the observation deck.
It was breath taking! Stunning. Not enough adjectives to describe all my experiences this summer. The sky was a wonderful summer blue and a warm breeze made it’s way between the gaps in the glass screen surrounding the observation deck. A bunch of youths were making a hullabaloo but I didn’t really mind. I hummed along to the music coming over the PA as I looked out over Paris. The Eiffel Tower was wonderful and I could pretty much see in a straight line down the Champ du Mars. I could make out the Louvre and the Concorde and the Arc de Triomph, all in a straight line on the other side of the Seine. I could even see out to La Défense, the financial and business sector with all the high rise skyscrapers. The sea of roofs rippled here and there and it was just magnificent. I loved it so much. I think I must have spent at least a good hour up there, going round slowly, using my camera to zoom in and spot landmarks.
After a while, I went down to the café the floor below and got myself a cup of tea. OK, quick point, I am horrified at the way the French make tea. It’s almost in mockery of the British! Like, they give you a cup full of boiling hot water and then give you a dry tea bag beside it on a plate. No no no, the tea bag goes in before the boiling water is put in on top of it. Teaches me right for ordering tea in Paris. I’ve learnt my lesson, never again.
From here, I caught the metro to see the last bit of Chopin hunting, another one of his houses at 80 Rue Taitbout. After getting off the metro and making my way there, I turned in through a small gate and into a cobbled courtyard, hidden from the eyes of people on the main road. And finally I found a place where Chopin had lived without it being a construction site! There was a nice plaque on one of the buildings and even a map of the other famous people that had lived in this courtyard! It was all very neat and tidy and quiet.
From there, I walked to the Musée de la Vie Romatique which was free to enter, which is always nice to hear. Here, I saw plenty of exhibitions to George Sand, Chopin’s beau, but I had really come for the few Chopin memorabilia lying around. OK, maybe this Chopin hunting is going a bit too far. But I really like his music, OK!
I headed back to the hostel at this point in the mid-afternoon and ate some food that I bought at the supermarket downstairs from the hostel. When I got to my room, I actually met the Indian guy and had a really fun chat with him all about life and travelling. He had been a stock broker in Mumbai before he bought some flats, started leasing them out and then went travelling himself, following the sun, teaching yoga and trading cypto as he went. He basically maintained his lifestyle by the income from his flats I believe, as well as having a whole massive bunch of savings and investments. He said that he had been travelling for little over six years at this point. Very cool lifestyle, I respect it. He was really into all that spirituality stuff. He told me that I could basically do the same as him, especially with a Masters’ in Physics, but I don’t really fancy going into finance, please and thank you.
It was at this point that the English guy came in and persuaded me to go out with him (and some other people that he had just met) for dinner. OK, quick disclaimer, this guy was just about the most charismatic guy I had ever met. He could have sold wool to a sheep. And so I agreed, last night in Europe and all. He introduced me to his unlikely gang of random people:
- Lochy. This was the most charismatic English guy. He was a forester from Cumbria and was on his way to Italy for his sister’s wedding. He was reading the Wheel of Time series which he gushed to me all about and yes, I will admit, I am now reading the Wheel of Time saga. Like, these are fourteen books, each around a thousand pages. I’m on book five. Don’t judge, please. But yeah, Lochy was cool I really liked him, like pretty much everyone else he met.
- Josh. He was an American business major and a huge golfer and ex-baseball player. He looked American and acted it too. Really nice guy too for sure.
- Adam. He was also American business major and had his own company where he sold sunglasses. He was loud and boisterous and walked with an “easy lolling baseball grace” since he too played baseball at college.
- Francine. She was German and was currently doing her Masters’ in city planning. She had the restaurant which we were gonna go to.
So, here’s the story. Lochy met Adam and sat chatting to him on the balcony up above. Adam knew Francine from his dorm and invited her to join them. She had just met someone else she knew (a “friend”) who had recommended a restaurant for her to try out, but she didn’t want to go alone. Therefore, Lochy and Adam were invited along. Then Lochy invited me to join, and before long, Josh was brought in to the fold too, having been out drinking with Adam the evening before. It was just the most chaotic meeting, but Lochy was the one holding us all together really, him and his charisma.
We headed out on the metro to go find this restaurant that Francine’s “friend” had recommended. Along the way, Lochy stopped and chatted to a lad skateboarding down the street, showing a couple tricks he could do, before we continued on our way. Yeah, that was surreal. The absolute confidence the guy had was out of the world. Josh and Adam also discovered that they knew literally all the same people within the US college baseball scene but had never actually met or heard of each other.
The restaurant we arrived at actually turned out to be a fine dining restaurant. Whoops. But actually not too expensive… And I found out why as soon as our food all arrived, the portions were microscopic. One mouthful for me, personally. Francine and I were sharing portions since we had both had dinner already, but there wasn’t much to share in all honesty! However, I will concede, it tasted pretty damn amazing. Lochy had a proper Ratatouille moment. With the critic, you know? Yeah, it was a fun evening. The puddings were just as small and just as delicious.
Afterwards, Lochy covered for us all (I mean, this guy) before we headed through Paris towards the Eiffel Tower, intending to be basic and watch the sparkles at midnight. Adam bought a massive jug of beer for Lochy as thanks for the meal. We met some guys on the metro as well who ended up joining us in our hope to get to the Eiffel Tower for midnight. Yes, you read that right, we literally met two guys on the metro and proceeded to talk and convince them to come with us. Or at least, Adam and Lochy did. It was hilarious to watch and we were having such a wonderful time!
We got to the Eiffel Tower and spent a while sitting on the steps in front of it across the Seine, watching and listening to a busker (and singing along at points!) and taking photos in front of the Eiffel Tower. That was a really good night actually. I so really enjoyed myself and was glad to have headed out with Lochy and his charismatic madness.
I headed home in shortly before 01:00, intent on some sleep before I caught the Eurostar the next morning. Josh came with me too, he was also checking out and heading elsewhere in Europe the next day. Sleeeeep arrived pretty much as soon as I got back to the dorm.
Friday 12th August
I needed to hustle to the Eurostar, I may have gotten up a little late. I demolished two bananas along the way, one on the metro and one as I passed through security at Paris Nord. It was just like airport security by the way, but that shouldn’t have been a surprise, I mean, we were going to another country after all!
There was a lot of waiting about after I got through all the security checks before we finally all boarded. I was actually sat beside a guy who had a whole bunch of camera gear and was filming some clients as they made a journey back home to the UK, looking for lost relatives, sorta thing. It was quite interesting to watch him work. He had assured the rest of the coach that none of us would be in his shots.
I watched the Secret Life of Walter Mitty on the way back, or at least, I managed to watch half the film before I switched it off and fell asleep with my head against the window. Before I knew it, we were pulling into London St Pancreas. I was actually kinda annoyed with myself since I wanted to witness us passing beneath the Channel! Oh well, next time.
I had a couple hours before my train back home to my parents, so I went to Charing Cross to Foyles and had a wonderful time looking around that beautiful bookshop, as recommended by a friend. Thanks JJ! I like the quote as you walk in, “Welcome book lover, you are among friends” which was wholesome. I headed back to Kings Cross before long though and hopped on the train home with a comforting, English cup of tea. People always sit and watch the screens at Kings Cross, waiting for the platform number to be released, and when it is, everyone always hustles to get there first it seems!
I sat beside some Americans on the way up. They were spending ten days in Scotland as a little friend holiday. The train was so crowded though that I eventually gave up my seat for an old lady. I had stood from London to Edinburgh before, I could manage to get to Alnmouth at least!
And so I arrived and greeted my parents who were waiting at the station for me. And my adventures on the continent were over. It may not have been how anyone would have travelled and I certainly missed quite a few of the iconic sights. But that is OK. I am happy with what I did, the pace I did it at and what I saw. I travelled how I wanted to. Such a good summer. Unforgettable. And now, onto the next.
Impression
I adore Paris. Romantic, light and dreamy, I can see why people would want to live their entire lives here. I would too, given the chance.
Facts and Stats
- Days spent: 4
- Bakeries and cafés visited: I lost count. More than 10
- Jazz clubs: 2, but really 1
- Number of things that went wrong: Well I lost my camera for like, an hour. That was minorly stressful
- Memorable moment: Either the night out with Lochy (seemed like a spontaneous Parisian magic night) or wandering down from the Louvre to the Arc de Triomph in the setting sun
- Music suggestion based off of city: Si Tu Vois Ma Mère, Claude Luter et son orchestre
- Postcards sent: 3
- Would I live here? Yes. Is it expensive? YES.
- Number of petitioners who approached me: 3
- Film/TV sets seen: 1
- Composers seen: Liszt and Chopin. Together, they’re a Chopin Liszt…
- Burnt-o-meter: 5/10
- Hostel rating: 9/10
That is the end of my inter-railing trip for the Summer of 2022. I travelled how I wanted to with no one else’s agenda to contend with and I enjoyed every moment. I cannot recommend solo travelling enough!