Paris in 32 Hours

Location:
France, Paris

Lost, France, Awful

By heidischaler

Graduating from college a quarter early was a dream come true. I decided to forgo the advice of most and head to Munich, Germany for a few months to attend language school at the Goethe Institute on Sonnenstrasse. Waving goodbye to "the States" and to any attempt at finding a "big girl job" I headed over the pond to a land of soccer and beer halls. I loved Germany. Evere single day was a new adventure, a new art museum, a new park, a new restaurant with un-pronounce-able foods, everything was new and exciting. At my first break from class (as if living in such a fabulous city wasnt "break" enough for me...) I decided to visit my friend in Chamonix, France for a week, then meet a fellow-Goethe student in Paris. Boarding a train for France was exciting. I had never before visited, and although apprehensive of the French's notorious distaste for Americans, I donned by best Euro-fit (Euro-outfit), grabbed a broetchen and boarded the train. I arrived in Chamonix, a beautifully quaint mountain town, and got to spend time hiking (snow was all melted!) and being with my friend Nick from the states. After a week of wine and cheese and outdoor activities, I was ready for the big city...Paris. This is where my travel luck turns. My friend Nick escorted me to the train station where I attempted to buy a train ticket. Perhaps I was acting a "typical american" but when I asked in English for a ticket to Paris, the small man behind the counter glared at me....then began yelling in french (a language I still had no experience with). I grabbed Nick, and told him to please come translate. Nick began speaking to the small ticketing man, and the man responded in (gasp!) ENGLISH! Then began to yell at me in English that I shouldn't assume that everyone in the world spoke English. I reserved my comment, "you, little ticketing man, are proving whatever point you assumed I was making...you speak english", and rather thanked him once he shoved a wrinkled ticket to Paris into my hand. I barely had enough time to grab my bag, Euro-kiss Nick as a goodbye, and jump on the train before it started chugging away. I was so looking forward to seeing the Eiffel Tower and all of the Museums. With a printout of the recommended hotels that my Goethe-Friend, Julia, sent me, I was set to go. Only not. The train screeched to a stop about half-way to Paris. No one seemed bothered. No one even flinched. They continued reading their foreign papers, and speaking their foreign languages, so I didn't begin to worry either. Well, I didn't begin to vocally worry....not until we all had to evacuate the train, and wait in the rain for 4 hours for another train to come and get us. The train conductors were announcing something (seemingly important) over the intercom, but I didnt understand, and no one seemed interested in helping me understand. It was at this VERY moment.....that I realized I didnt have my friend Julias Number in Paris, which happened to coincide with the EXACT moment, that I realized my 50-euro-a-week cell phone had about 1 minute of battery life left. So, I did what any mature individual would do when in a crisis traveling in a foreign country. I called my mom. Finally, on hour four of sitting in the rain, another train pulled up to rescue all of us stranded passengers (note: I was the ONLY one who seemed bothered....perhaps this happens often in France?!) We made the rest of the trip to Paris without stopping, and I jumped off the train with a renewed energy and enthusiasm. Until I remembered that I didnt have a hotel reservation, a number for anyone that could help me, nor a cell phone to call anyone for help. I found my way to the subway with my enormous "typical american" backpacking-backpack. I managed to find someone who would speak to me in ENglish (he happened to be some famous Italian Opera singer....self-proclaimed of course)and he directed me to the first hotel on my list that Julia had sent me. After nearly being killed at a 6-lane circular traffic disaster, I got into a room the size of my work cube and slept for a few hours. Upon waking, I realized that Julia couldnt possibly find me (or call, since my phone died a sad, sad death), so I did the reasonable thing and walked across the street, bought a bottle of wine (and an opener) and began to drink it and watch EuroMTV, when I got a phone call....from my friend JULIA in the lobby!! She went to 6 of the 10 hotels that she told me to go to, and in lucky number 7, there I was. It was an absolute miracle, and even MORE of a miracle that she had her beautiful french friend (male) with her who had access to a car! (although, it later turned out to be a Kirin Beer delivery van with stools in the back....not exactly the epitome of safety.) After a night of yummy dinner with yummy french boys, I went to sleep happy. The next day, Julia and I planned to "see the sights" of Paris, and departed to the heart of the city. But lo and behold, my luck with the French continued...It was Labor Day in France. All museums were closed. The only attraction open was the Eiffel Tower, complete with a 5 hour wait to ride the elevator to the top. No Thanks. We took a few pictures, then made a B-Line for the shops and restaurants. That night was our last night in Paris. We departed early the next morning to return to school-which meant that I had a total of 32 hours in Paris...and barely anything to show for it besides a few good pictures, a pair of pink "Paris" boxers, a wicked hangover, and a dead cell phone. I can honestly say....that it was the worst trip of my life. When I got on the train back to Munich, I flipped Paris the "American Bird" and vowed never to go back....although, perhaps I will....with a full cell phone, a french travel partner, an unlimited budget, and an updated calendar with every French non-working holiday listed.

Further Information

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