Paris, Part One: I hate Paris

Four nights, five days in Paris. Long story short, I don't think it was enough. This feeling is starting to be recurrent.

When I awoke to catch my train out of Rotterdam, it seemed that my bad luck had not ended. The first train, to Rotterdam Centraal, was late. I managed to board, slightly freaking out about missing my next train OUT of Roterdam. However, when I arrived at Centraal, the train to Brussels was running twenty minutes late as well! I was standing on the platform talking to a couple Dutch businessmen when we realized that our train was now thirty minutes late. Shortly after, a message came over the intercom informing us that the train was not coming, but another had been adjusted to our desitnation and would be arriving on a different platform shortly. Wonderful. Now I just had to worry about missing the next leg, as I had to catch four different trains that day.

Thankfully, I caught the next train and my troubles ended there. I arrived in Antwerpen to find several other backpackers waiting for my train, turns out that the line I was directed on was a common backpacker line since no reservations were required. Near Lille de Flanders station in France, I met a couple guys from Detroit heading my way. We ended up eating a DELICIOIUS six euro crepe from the restaruant across the road from the station and ran back to catch our next train.

We finally arrived in Paris – Gare de Nord at seven twenty that evening. Nothing like an eight our day train! I stepped off the train into a giant, packed station. I had seen it in the movies, but it was still amazing. Immediatley, we went to book tickets to our next city. The desk clerk informed me that the next night train out of Paris to Madrid was not available until the 18th! Well. Looks like I was staying in Paris a few days longer than expected. Did I mention that by that point I already hated it?

Yes, hated. In such a huge city international business city, they used French and ONLY French. Even the people that claimed to speak English weren't that good. Not to mention the city was HUGE. And the French have a horrible reputation for being rude and unhelpful. I was terrified. I booked my ticket and went to find the metro. I had already recieved a huge city map from the EuRail girl, but I couldn't find anything about where my hostel was. I learned soon how ineffecient maps are in this city. The man at the metro information desk was very helpful, though, and gave me a metro map with directions on how to find my stop. When I arrived at the station near my hostel was when I really started to get upset.

The street I was on wasn't even on my map. Everything should have been on that thing, it was massive! I was so lost that I ended up having to ask for directions again. Which still weren't much help, but they got me there. After trying to find the spot on the map, I realized that there are so many streets in Paris, you'll never have a detailed map. It would be too big to carry easily. So I was stuck in the biggest city in an unfriendly country where nobody spoke fluent English with a map that isn't even complete. Excuse my French, but fuckin' great.
The people at my hostel weren't even very friendly. It was supposedly one of the best hostels in the city, too. I dropped off my things and decided to catch a view of the Eiffel tower at night, It was supposed to be a close walk. I somehow managed to find a street on my map and began to follow it to the tower. Coming from Amsterdam, I had learned to disregard walking signals and just go when there was an opportunity. I had just run a red light and heard a familiar language behind me say, “This guy looks must know what he's doing, let's just follow him!” I turned, smiled and said, “That may not be the best idea, I'm pretty well lost!” The couple were from St. Louis. They were on their way to the tower, too. We walked and chatted and eventually came upon a crowd nearing the size of the Orange in Amsterdam. I had (against all odds and unknowingly) arrived in Paris on Bastille Day. The most important national holiday in France! What awaited me that night was completely unexpected and completly lucky.

The tower was beautifully lit when we took our place. At eleven, the whole park went dark, including the tower. But the fireworks, oh the fireworks. It was the largest and longest show I've ever seen. Watching the constant explosions beyond the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower was incredible. Near the end of the show, the tower did somthing I didn't expect. It strobed. Thousands of tiny strobe lights lit upon the tower, making it shimmer among the fire and night. I was awestruck. Maybe I was going to like Paris after all.