Paris

Ah, Paris. It could not have been a more incredible weekend. It began a bit rough, as traveling tends to go. Reyn, Gwen and I had a 5:25 a.m. train to catch, and we had to take a night bus to get to the train station because the tube doesn't run that early. I set my alarm that morning for 2:30 so I could shower. I was surprisingly chipper when I woke up to some of the guys below us talking loudly outside at 2:15. We all left the flat feeling good and ready for a weekend away. Halfway to the bus stop, and it's still dark at this point, Gwen realizes she forgot her camera. She knew she wouldn't enjoy herself without it, so she decides to sprint back to our flat to get it. She ends up making it back to the stop just in time for the bus and we make it to the station smoothly for our insanely early train. I slept most of it.

We arrive in Paris at around ten feeling like it's about 5:00 at night and stumble upon our hostel using the trusty old compass I managed to remember to pack last minute. This side of town is not the most picturesque, so our expectations for the hostel were not exceptionally high. We had to wait to find out, though, because check-in wasn't until 3. To kill time, we decide to dart off to the Louvre. The few hours we spent wandering around this massive "zoo of a museum," as Gwen so eloquently phrased it, barely made a dent. We got through two of the portions, including Italian paintings, which were absolutely marvelous to see in person. The Mona Lisa was neat, but I was far more impressed with many of the other pieces, most of which were significantly larger in size. It was funny how the Mona Lisa attracted such a crowd, though. I couldn't even get all the way up to it because of how many people were clustered around it, taking pictures of this tiny painting that has an entire wall all to itself, making it appear even tinier. Having taken a handful of art history classes over time, it was really remarkable to recognize so many of the paintings from textbooks and class Powerpoints. To see them in real life was an entirely moving experience. I could have spent all day there, but having had very little sleep and food, the three of us began to get a bit delirious. We left at one point in search of lunch and came across a little bakery where we ordered pieces of vegetable quiche from an adorable lady who only spoke French. Feeling more energized with the food intake, we made one more round through a different exhibit in the Louvre before heading back to the hostel.

The room on the seventh floor was laughably lousy. We jokingly referred to it as the "prison room" all weekend. I can't imagine prison being much different. We walk in and are greeted by one window, one sink and three metal beds with stiffly folded scratchy white sheets that we have to make the beds with. At that point, I would have curled up on the floor I was so tired. We made up our beds and passed out for a few hours before making our way to the grocery store to piece together a dinner.

A few weeks earlier, we all went out to celebrate Gwen's 21st birthday and ended up meeting a couple guys who lived and worked in London for Warner Music, but one of which had grown up in Paris. His dad still lives there, and after talking we figured out that we were going to be in Paris the same weekend and made tentative plans to meet up. David found me on Facebook and we confirmed plans to meet up on Saturday night. After our nap and dinner in a nearby park where we got kicked off the grass and had to eat on a bench instead, we made our way to the metro and met up with David at his flat. Posh isn't even close to the word to describe this place. He greets us near the station and walks us through the front door where we enter this huge airy lobby with intricately tiled floor and ascend a couple flights of carpeted stairs. His flat is on the second floor and it is amazing. Multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, a huge kitchen and living room, long hallways. Framed paintings and tables with decorative objects collected from around the world, classical music playing. David introduces us to his group of friends who are seated on three couches in the main living room, eating snacks and sipping wine, and gets us each a glass. Everyone was from a different part of Europe and spoke at least two languages. It was a blast to talk to such an eclectic group of people in such an incredible setting, it felt unreal. And I felt so old and sophisticated holding conversations with these people, who were all so warm and friendly and fascinating to watch as they switched between languages, trading stories and using wildly expressive hand gestures. Gwen and I spent a lot of the night out on the balcony talking. It overlooked the busy street below.

Sunday we got a good amount of sleep in and decided to shower before setting off. Gwen and I realized we didn't bring towels. And this hostel never seemed to have a supply of towels, so we were forced to use one of the sheets from our bed to dry off in the communal bathroom. We were laughing the entire time at how gross it was, but it still felt cleaner than not showering.

We packed a ton of sights into Sunday. We started at Montemartre, which is basically a large hill that you climb to get an incredible view of the city. There were lots of people and performers on the street with sterotypical accordions and marionettes. We picked up a sandwich at a streetside cafe and continued onward to Sainte-Chapelle cathedral. Words can't describe the beauty of the interior. Large walls completely covered in colorful stained glass depicting over a thousand biblical scenes. On our way to Notre Dame, we found an outdoor pet market on the way and stopped to pet bunnies and look at caged birds. Notre Dame was breathtaking as well, and we went inside as mass was being held, which was really cool to witness. Masses of people filled the pues and tourists shuffled in along the sides where tea candles were lit. While stopping for a latte in a cafe with outdoor seating, we received a call from David inviting us to a picnic by the Eiffel Tower later that night. We agreed, as that was our plan anyway, and found a supermarket nearby to pick up some snacks and fruit. I had to ask someone for directions to the closest metro, but he spoke English and directed us across the Seine River. It was a bit of a commute to the Tower, but we were able to arrive as the sun was setting. David met us underneath the Eiffel Tower itself, which is so much bigger than you would ever imagine. He led us to a grassy area with a perfect view of the Tower where his friends, some the same from the night before, had a blanket set up with food. We sat there as the sun went down, talking and eating. Gwen and I got crepes from a stand nearby and had a really hilarious encounter with the Italian crepe vendors. They were very friendly and laughed a lot at us and our inability to speak French. They dumped a mountain of whipped cream on Gwen's chocolate crepe, which caused it to turn into a soupy mess on the walk back and even more so once we sat back down with everyone. Her hands were drenched in gooey chocolate and cream and I was laughing so hard that my stomach started to hurt.

At around 11:30 we decided to head to the Eiffel Tower to see if we could go up to the top. We ended up catching the last elevator up at midnight for only six euro. They light it up with sparkly lights every hour once it gets dark out, and it went off once more while we were up on the second level. The view was absolutely gorgeous at night, the city lights twinkling all around us and the cool night wind hitting us as we leaned against the rail.

Almost missing the train this morning, thinking it was at 8:30 instead of 8:07, we arrived safely back in London. There was something sort of comforting about being in London again, like it was something I had missed without even realizing it. Walking down Hogarth and into our relatively clean flat and hearing English on the tube with the overly repeated "Mind the gap!" was surprisingly refreshing.

Got to listen to one of the online editors from the BBC talk today for class. The building itself was less impressive than the Guardian's beautiful glass walls and modern furniture and huge-screened Macs, but the editor who spoke with us was really informative and had a very positive outlook on new journalists and the field in general.