Last Leg

Day 11                                                                                                           

            I get up at 11:30 and miss the free breakfast that they have from whatever to 10:00. I guess I haven’t been sleeping well, so staying in and sleeping seems right. I get up and go to the supermarket because I left my soap and shampoo at the apartment. After that, I go to the local boulangerie for breakfast. I get a big baguette with chicken, cheese, lettuce and tomato. Jeez, the bread here is way good. I also get a “Swiss bread,” which is one of the best things I’ve had here. It’s a pastry loaded with chocolate chips and a custardy thing in the middle.

            I then go to the lobby to use the Internet and plan my stuff for the day. I take the metro to Les Halles and walk around Rue Montorgueil to check out Stohrer, the oldest bakery in Paris and get a croissant. I then go see the Centre Pompidou, though I think the itself is closed, not that I really would’ve wanted to see impressionist/post-impressionist art that bad anyway. Then off to the Notre Dame. Then off to this famous ice cream place that’s supposed to have the best ice cream in Europe or Paris at least, but I accidentally just walk into one that’s called “Berthillon.” I keep walking and see the real place that I’m supposed to go, which is closed. It turns out that all the places in the area have the name “Berthillon” attached to them, I guess that’s the area. Don’t get me wrong, the ice cream is hella good, but not the place I was supposed to go.

            I continue walking around, taking pictures,  and such until I call it to get back to the hostel. I get back at 7:00, watch this documentary called Beyond the Game. It’s still weird, these two guys are here that are probably late 20s or 30s, one Asian and one black. They really look like guys that surely have never gotten their dick wet and they’re always laying down in their bed whenever I see them. I guess they must really be up to so much business during the day that they have to be laying down at 8PM. Surely these guys aren’t out at clubs at 2AM because they sleep at 10PM, so  I don’t know what their deal is. Frakkin’ weirdos.

            It’s 8:30 and I should probably get some dinner. I’m not 100% sure if I want to eat downstairs at the restaurant/bar or maybe check out an Asian place around here. There seem to be a lot of pho places, who knows how good French pho could be.

            I back out of that plan and decide to go to the restaurant in the hostel instead. They have a surprisingly good burger, despite it being $12. Then again, that’s with tax and tip (you don’t pay tip here), so take that into account. I meet some people at dinner and go off upstairs to get ready because I’m planning to go out somewhere. I go to the bar to grab a beer and see the people from dinner. Two are travelling Australians (everyone is freaking Australian) and two are a couple that are studying abroad in Austria.

            We end up deciding to have some hash that the Australians bought. We end up meeting a girl that’s also down named Lizzie. We head downstairs to the common area that is always empty for some reason despite it being a great place to just bring your own booze and drink. Lizzie gets her six pack of beer and we have that because the bar is closing up. People start splitting up and going to sleep. Lizzie and I have a cig outside until we run into Khan from last night. He’s about to fire up a joint and we joint in on that. We decide that we’re starving and want to look for food. We end up giving up on cabbing somewhere because we can’t find anywhere to go. We walk up the block to a boulangerie that is open at 2:00AM for some reason. We then keep walking around for some reason and I’m not even sure why because I was drunk and high as shit. We keep walking and walking and we end up at a park. There’s these sketchy people that come over to us and I’m too inebriated to stop them from talking to these skeevy guys. Khan and Lizzie are open to asking them for directions because we’re lost.

            They try to keep us there and ask for money. I finally pull the two to start walking away. Then the worst happens, they start following us, like a pack of jackals, 4-5 guys. One of them was smoking crack so these are serious scary people. Right now, I’m scared about to shit my pants. We have 5 people following us and I’m sure they want to mug us. Thankfully, we start walking fast and they slowly drift away. One still follows us who has a bike and even asks if we want to buy his bike. Even he eventually leaves too. Wooh, that was close. What a creepy pack of people.

            After walking 20 minutes or so, one of the guys is sprinting his ass off and catches up to us. How he figured our exact route after us walking for that long is beyond me, but he’s on trying to chat up Lizzie. Unfortunately for him, she’s a lezzie (see what I did there)? We finally get back at 5AM, I don’t know possibly how many hours we were walking. Both of them are checking out in the morning so they want to stay up all night. I’m exhausted, but they insist on watching Where the Wild Things Are on my laptop. I let them and they watch while I’m practically dozing off. Finally when it’s over, it’s 7AM and I pass out as they stay up and grab breakfast that starts at 7:30.

Day 12

            I wake up at 4PM because that was quite a long night. I want to do foodie stuff so I head off to get some famous exquisite macaroons and the best artisanal bread in Paris.

            I end up going to the Vietnamese/Chinese place and the food is actually pretty decent. It makes sense since the place is pretty crowded despite being 9:30. It’s usually a good sign to go to places that are crowded. I then go back to the hostel and I’m supposed to go out, but it’s already a decent time past 10:00 because I woke up so late, went out for a while, then had dinner out.

Day 13

            I wake up and decide that instead of having the night be a super blow out of lameness, I bring my laptop downstairs… Yeah, I’m a real fucking exciting kid. I overhear this person talking their friend on Skype or something. She’s complaining about the hostel being a “huge dorm” (though it is) and said that there’s no way she’s doing this situation when she goes to Greece. What cuntbag, rich bitch travelling all over too good for not staying in a hotel, and damn, she a fucking real mediocre/ugly looking girl anyway, who made her hot shit?

Day 14

            Because I didn't go out the night before, I can wake up at the decent time, but still miss breakfast. I'm out of bed before 12:00 and go to the cafe to check out where I'm going tonight. I head out by 1:30 because I'm shmoozing around on the Internet like an idiot and head to Champs Elysees and the Eiffel Tower. I go to Laduree, the famous macaroon place/bakery, because I'm from Gossip Girl, obviously. After the Champs Elysees, it's a 30 minute walk to the Eiffel Tower. I end up paying $15 for the elevator all the way up, which is not really worth it because the Eiffel Tower is best enjoyed either up close and getting a good look at it or from a distance and snapping pictures. Either way, it was a cool to see a couple getting engaged on top of the tower.

I then go to Boulangerie Polaine, which apparently has the best bread in Paris, which is pretty darn good. I decide after loads of walking that I should call it at day and get back to the hostel by 6:00. I meet some people in my room that are studying in Bilboa. They're doing the bar crawl that I did two weeks ago, but I'm set on going to Oberkampf, which is supposed to like the Village of Paris.

I plan on heading out to dinner, but walk around and decide to cut it short and just eat for the third time at the hostel's restaurant. Paris is like back in the 90s. It's surprising how few places take credit card. Also, instead of everything having a credit card swipe, they have portable little machines that they walk around with. The hostel restaurant works out because at least they take credit card. Even then, most of their machines are set for taking European credit cards that have a little chip and insert it into the machine instead of swiping, so I have to walk over to the reception to use the credit card there.

I have a Capital One credit card that my mom let me lend because they don't charge foreign fees. All the other banks (including mine, Citibank) charge about 3-5% for using your credit card abroad or even withdrawing money. I got 300 Euro from America, which is about $433, but that burned through recently and I had to withdraw another $160. Boy, this trip isn't cheap.

After dinner, I go back the room and decide it's time to pregame with that bottle of wine that I bought on the first night staying at the hostel that I have yet to open. I meet a girl room that is from Argentina. Her English is pretty non-existant, so we speak in Spanish. My Spanish is quite rusty and the tenses get me a bit, but she is very impressed that I understand her so well and I know certain vocabulary. By the way, as I'm writing this, I'm blowing on my nails and rubbing my shoulder. My Spanish isn't amazing, but I enjoy getting complimented on it, I'm a Spanish boss like that.

I don't have a bottle opener so I decide to push the cork in, I hear it works and it's the first time trying it. I pretty much make a mess in front of the Argentinian gal and try to pass it off as a joke as wine is spill everywhere, multiple times. Her boyfriend walks in at one point and I think she explains that I can sort of speak Spanish and he says Hi, but I'm not listening to their conversation, I'm busy pregaming my bottle of wine. After finishing it, I get dressed and it's past 11:00. I decide it's time to make moves and head to the metro. I get lost and walk around and stalk some places for 30 minutes until I finally get into a bar. I grab a beer, which isn't cheap here. At any shit place, a beer is 5 Euro, which translates to about $7. Then again, there's no tipping here so that helps a bit.

I meet some Frenchies that aren't down for talking and then a girl that's a nanny staying in Paris from Fargo, North Dakota, but I end up splitting from that because I'm not a sticker.

The bar scene isn't as awesome as I thought. It feels like it's a busy as a Wednesday night despite it being a Friday. It should be crowded like balls and there are only a handful of bars on the street. I go to one that's playing Django-like guitar music. I meet some Frenchies and a guy from Ireland. After having a convo with him, I decide to leave. I walk around wandering, looking for the metro. A guy helps me out and offers me a cab ride, but for $20, screw that. I feel like Will Smith in Fresh Prince. He does helpfully remind me that it's almost 2:15, when the metro closes, so I'm stuck walking back. Boy time flies sometimes, even when you don't do anything.

I start walking and get on the right way. Walking at night in Paris is actually quite gorgeous, especially since I had to follow the river to get back to the hostel. It takes me about an hour because I’m slow and lost. Obviously I need to set my stain on Paris and take part in public urination, twice. I'm a class guy if anyone didn't tell you. I finally get back by 3:30 and I meet some people outside of the hostel. They tell me that the "club" downstairs of the hostel is actually still popping. I go to check that out and it actually is. Granted, it's not big, but there are about 40 people there dancing to some fun dubstep. Some Frenchie walks up to me and blibber blabbers something, but it seems all she wants out of me is a few sips of my beer. I'm told some stuff that I need repeated over and over and I have no clue. Get some English.

Surprisingly, the "club" at the hostel is way more fun that Oberkampf, which the nightlife is supposed to be at. I stay there for a few hours and then drunkily grab my laptop to chill out in the cafe. There's a girl that has a Skype conversation with her boyfriend and she's rocking a thick Minnesota or something of the Great Lakes accent. Dunno why I'm mentioning, it, but it's cute. I decide to head to bed and realize that it's 5:30. Screw me, this shit is balls.

Day 15

I set my alarm to make breakfast, but I must've slept through that and pressed snooze on my iTouch. I wake up and some point and dread looking at the time and realize it's 10:10. Check out is at 10:30. I get a shower and quickly chuck a few things into my luggage. It's a good thing that I packed most of my stuff last night. By the way, I'm not even leaving for my flight today. I booked my hostel last week and the place is fully booked for just Saturday. My fucking luck. Just one more night before my flight and the place is booked and nothing opens despite me asking throughout the week for cancellations.

So now I slept only 3-4 hours or something and I need to drag my way across town to another hostel that I booked last night. It wouldn't be that bad except for the combination of hangover and tiredness that is killing. I can't even tell if I want a beer, some water and food, or sleep. Maybe all of them. I finally find the hostel and stupid place only takes cash. Great, I just keep burning through my Euros. Fucking Paris man. It's 11:30 and I try to check in. He tells me that the rooms don't open until 3:00. You're shitting me buddy. I actually double booked hostels because the first one I booked didn't send me a confirmation email and has check in at 4:00. They have a room where I can put my luggage and there are public computers for me to use. I have nothing to do, but write the blog and it's only been an hour. I had two hours and twenty minutes to blow and screw me, this is going to be mad boring.

I'm exhausted and I really could use some sleep. And some food and water, but I'm stuck sitting here typing my ass off like an idiot. It's drizzling outside and I don't even know where I should go outside. I'd hope there's a McDonald's or something, but I want to just fucking lay down. I probably reek of booze. Fine, I definitely probably do. Yeah yeah, I'm bitching while I'm in Paris. Boy, how many easier it would be if I could stay where I was and just slept through this shit.     

            At 3:00 on the dot, I go upstairs to the room and straight pass out. I sleep for about three hours until 6:30. I get out and walk around. It’s the best area that I’ve been in. It has the redlight district and loads of bars including the ones that I went to on the bar crawl two weeks ago. It has loads of restaurants of real French food. On Rue du Martyrs, there is a three block range of amazing looking boulangeries (pastries/bread), boucheries (butcher shops), fromageries (cheese shop) and everything a foodie dreams about. I wish I was in this area longer and with a kitchen. I would so take advantage of the fresh outstanding produce and goods they have here.

            I go to a nice looking boulangerie that has a line (a line is always a good sign of where to go). I get a croissant amande, which I’ve had before, but this one is out of this world. By far the best thing I’ve had here. It’s a pastry instead of a croissant really. There’s thick substantial crust to it with almonds and powdered sugar. Inside however is almost soft and gooey almost as custard. Absolute perfection.

            I walk around the area a lot. I go to a little chocolate shop that is suggested by a Paris food blog. It’s expensive, but chocolate and candy heaven. I’ve only really eaten out once to a restaurant here, so I want to go out. I go to this highly suggested fondue place. It’s basically two long tables and you sit around eating like Thanksgiving. It’s a set price for the fondue and you get served bottles of wine with a nipple like a baby bottle. I try to go into the place, but I get some weird look from the French person working there, he says something, and I walk out. Then again, I guess the place looked full, but I could’ve at least gotten something nice out of him in instead of just French and a look.

            At night, I’m not sure what to do, but it’s 12:00 and I decide to head out for a walk. The nightlife in the area feels very authentic. It’s mostly people sitting at restaurants, including outdoors over an overhang because it’s drizzling, and having beer and cigarettes with a few people. I go to the touristy redlight area and get constantly asked about cabaret offers.

            I finally find a bar that’s playing live rock music. It’s one of the best times I’ve had in Paris and they’re playing anything, U2, Beatles, Joan Jett, Hives, funk, etc.

Part 3

Day 8

            I get up and I’m in the mood for some pastries, so I go to a boulangerie and point at  some interesting things. On the street that I’m on, there is literally a bakery every single block. I walk into a random one and one of the pastries is a mini-cake with almonds on it. It’s good and super moist and still warm because everything here is baked fresh. The other one is flaky like a croissant with small pieces of “candy sugar” on it. I can feel the weight gaining on me as I eat them. I’m going to need to be a serious diet when I get back.

            After that, I sit around and catch up on some TV shows. I then decide to go to Angelina, which is a really beautiful looking restaurant that is known to have the “Best Hot Chocolate in the World.” Despite Yelp not being huge in Paris, it’s one of the most reviewed places, so I need to try it out.

            I get there and the line is quite long. I hear people talking on the line and they say it’s probably the busiest time because it’s a Saturday afternoon. The tourists are all over the place and it’s the perfect time to have an afternoon break. We all know I do not have patience so I cut my losses and figure I can come some other time during the week. I check out the Jardin de Tuileres, Place Vandome, and almost walk over to see the Lourve (going in will be another day), but it starts raining and I give up. I have some pictures, I got out and saw some stuff, I’m done.

            I get back to the apartment and Freemurge has been gone this whole time, so I have the place to myself and take a nap. I wake up at night, grab some dinner at McDonald’s of all places, and call it a night. Speaking of McDonald’s, they have “Deluxe Potatoes,” which are spiced potato wedges. They’re so freaking good. They come with white sauce and they really need to get this stuff over to America. The sandwiches are also better because their specialty sandwiches are made with better bread (not great bread). They’re not soft and mushy like our buns. They’re more like a soft ciabatta.

Day 9

            I go over to the convention center and it turns out that apparently I’m not the only one thinking about the tournament that I’m planning to enter. It’s 480 people, which is way more than I expected and I’m not happy about this grind. If I do well playing for the $2,000 first place prize, I’ll be playing 10 rounds, leaving there until 1:00AM or whatnot. After 4-5 rounds, I’m out of contention, but still play a few more to hang around, and watch the Top 8 of the Pro Tour live. I would be watching it at home on my computer if I weren’t here in person, pretty cool.

            I head back on the metro and get to the apartment past 8:00. Freemurge is there and I inform him that it’s my last night staying over because I have a hostel booked. It’s a “party” hostel and it’s actually supposed to be the nicest hostel in Paris. Now that the Magic is over, hopefully I’ll finally have some fun and see some sites.

            There’s a Laundromat near the apartment, so I take the opportunity to do what little clothes I need to wash so I’m set for the rest of the trip and don’t have the worry about that until I’m back next week. Wow, it’s hard to believe that I’ve been here for more than a week and right now next week, I’ll be back in America. Time really feels like it flies when you don’t do much…

            Tomorrow’s going to be a bit of a shlep. I want to buy Freemurge a bottle of something for letting me stay for almost a week. I need to figure out the post office and send a couple of post cards that I have written. Then I need to figure how I’m getting to the hostel, check all my stuff packed, lug it all over across the city, and check in. Who knows if I’ll have energy to do anything after all that.

Day 10

            I wake up at 8:30 when Freemurge does and thank him for everything and say Goodbye as he’s going to work. I then run some errands. I go to the post office to drop off my postcards. It’s actually really easy to use. There’s a machine that does English, you choose the destination, it checks the weight, you pay, and it prints out the postage for you. America could use some of these. I then have to dispose of my luggage because the wheels broke so I have to sneakily walk around the neighborhood, find a trash can, and then just casually drop it off next to it and walk away. I already bought some cheap shittier luggage to replace it. I go to the supermarket to buy a bottle of Scotch for Freemurge. I then get some pastries.

            After sitting around for a while, I get some lunch and sit around some more until I realize that I’m really exhausted. Check in at the hostel is 2:00 and I could’ve made that, but I take that time to nap instead. Finally by 3:00, I decide to get off my ass, shower, get packed, and leave. I take the metro across town and get to the hostel. It’s really nice and very much like described. The lobby is attached to a bar and there’s a reception area and all. The room for 8 is very big and the bunk beds are huge and compartmentalized with power outlets and curtains. However, the bathroom is still shared by the floor, but it seemed clean when I checked it out. I guess the most apt comparison would be a Holiday Inn set up with nicer than college dorm living. The rooms are key carded and even to get around the elevator, you need a keycard to unlock the elevator so you can choose a floor. It gets pretty annoying that times that you always need your key to do anything. I’m not quite sure the reasoning behind it, but I guess they don’t want random people going around the elevators?

            I set up my stuff and decide to head out and see some stuff. The receptionist suggests walking down the street to a park. It’s a gorgeous park and I get a lot of picture taking done. I get back for the dinner that the hostel is offering. They have a restaurant along with their bar. The service is pretty horrendous though I get a decent sandwich out of it.

            After that, I go to the room and I have a quick talk with an Australian in my room. His story sounds ridiculous… ly awesome. He’s been backpacking Europe for the past five months and he’s on the last leg of his trip. He is planning to go to Switzerland though because he met a Virginian who’s study abroading there and they’ve been travelling together for the past few weeks. He wants to get a final visit in before going home. He mentions how they got matching tattoos when they got really high in Amsterdam. He then also says that he has another tattoo from the time he also was inebriated in Thailand. Jeez, the stories this motherfuck must have.

            I bought a bottle of wine as a part of the plan tonight, but that seems awkward now that I’m writing. Three of the people in the room are trying to sleep already and it’s only 10:30. Two are reading and one is floating around. It would seem super weird for me to just bust out the bottle and charge having it all to myself. I also don’t have a wine opener, though I guess I could push the cork down. Either way, this Sally has been sober for quite a while. I’ve only been out one night that I’ve been here.

            I man up and decide I need some drank in me, so I head downstairs to the bar. I grab a Kronenbourg. Some shitty guy is playing guitar and there’s a weird bald old lady singing French with her. They let weridos into this place for some reason and she asks for money from people after the song. The guy sucks balls. All his songs sound the same with acoustic power chords and the bass is way too high on the guitar.

            I sit down with some people are listening to this horrid guy sing his shit, bad versions of Metallica, Toxic by Britney Spears, and whatever bad angry music he has in his repertoire. The guy next to me is from Seattle, but lives in Shanghai. He decided two years ago that he wanted to stay there so he did. He’s learned Chinese in two years and now stays there teaching English to students. That’s an interesting choice for him and good for him that he learned Chinese that fast.

            There’s some other British people and Australians. There’s a girl from Argentina. There’s  a forward guy that’s travelling to Saudi Arabia for some reason and decided to stay in Paris for two nights. You know, the guy that just shoves his hand out and says, “Hey! What’s your name?!” A nice guy though and he brings out his chaoscillator and asks to perform for the bar of only 10 or so people. He gets a pretty cool lounge electro beat going and does a great rap over it.

            After a couple drinks, it’s about 12:00 and people decide to split up and call it an early night. The forward guy, Khan, goes off to find some weed and actually runs into me at the lobby computer area and says he found some. I guess I’ll be hitting that up in the next day that he’s here.

Halfway

Day 4

            At night, I showed up to this “random” person’s single apartment and stayed over. He’s fine with me staying for however long and I plan on staying for the duration of the Magic Paris Weekend, which is until Sunday. It’s really nice of him because he basically has no idea who and I am and he’s nice enough to share his place with me.

Day 5

            I spend the day playing around with the deck that I’m planning for play for the tournament. I put in about a 100 or so games and I’m relatively okay with it. I go to the site and register and call it a day.

Day 6

            I wake up early in the morning so I get there for Day 1 of the Pro Tour. In the end, I miss making the cut to Day 2. It sucks, but I’m not too disappointed about it. On a lighter note though, surprisingly, the hottest chick I’ve seen so far in Paris is the artist that is visiting and signing cards. She’s a French chick, light skin, strawberry blonde hair, thin. No creeper (the new “no homo), but I was stalking the booth all day.

            Spending about 10 hours there is a bit rough though. Usually at tournaments, I know people. Only about 2/3s of the time is sitting down playing. The rest is just down time. It can get really boring just durdling around by yourself. One of the best things about tournaments is having friends there, sharing stories, commiserating losses, and congratulating wins.

            I get back at night and Freemurge, guy letting me stay, says that there’s a party tomorrow and if I want to go out. I plan on playing a really large tournament on Saturday, so I can’t go out drinking on Friday and say Thanks, but no Thanks.

Day 7, Friday, February 11, 2011

            I wake up and go to the center to watch some playing and play to get 3 Byes for the large tournament the next day. I unfortunately quickly scrub out of two of them and I give up. I instead spend the day trying to watch matches, but unfortunately, the center is really poorly set up so that you can’t really get close to watch closely on how the Pros playing and make their decisions, which is by far the most useful thing to could do if you want to get better. I couldn’t imagine how much a poker pro would charge for you to sit over his shoulder and be able to see his cards while he plays. Hell, I bet you couldn’t even pay them enough for that.

            This day is a lot rougher because I barely play and I’m just tired of standing and walking around myself all day. Despite having one bye for Saturday because of my rating, I really don’t want to go to tomorrow. It’s going to be a recording setting 2800 people. It’s going to be over 12 hours of playing. Without three byes, it’s the worst crap shoot ever. Hell, even with three byes it’s a horrible crap shoot. Because, if you do well, you only Day 2 and there’s another 8 or so rounds to play. Also, the pay-out doesn’t scale depending on attendance. So no matter how many people there are, the best one could hope for is a few thousand out of that big of a player base, since it’s open to everyone to play. That’s much different from the invite only Pro Tour that had less than 500 people and the pay-out was $40,000 for first place and all the way down to Top 65.

            I get back to the apartment before 8:00 hoping that I could catch Freemurge getting back from work so I could tag along for the party that I initially turned down, but I guess he’s already went or maybe hasn’t come back yet because it’s almost 10:00 by now. I’m not really in the mood to go shlep out myself to the nightlife. I guess I’ll take it easy today because it’s been physically and mentally quite exhausting the past few days.

            As for the plans, I should book a hostel for Monday and on until I fly out next Sunday. Then, I’ll be able to see sights, hopefully go out, meet some bitches, and get drunk (and boy do I need a drink).

First Few Days

Day 1

            My flight is at 9:45PM. I’ve extremely tired because I couldn’t sleep the night before and only got 3 hours of sleep the night before and also had work. I don’t know how I pulled through the day. Once I get on the place, I immediately pass out. Dinner comes and the menu says there’s wine. Wine me please. Besides the fact that I’m going to Paris, that is one of the great things about traveling to Europe.

            They give me a full drink in a little wine bottle, which gets me to a buzz after quickly downing it and having little food in me. For dessert, I say I don’t want anything, but the stewardess offers cognac. There’s no way I’m turning that down, so I gladly accept his offer.

            While working on my cognac, I watch The American. A slow action thriller with George Clooney, set in Italy. It’s not bad, worth a watch. I can’t really fall asleep and the flight is actually not too long, only about 6 hours. I get off the plane, go through customs, and off to the metro to get to downtown Paris. I have everything in a carry-on, even though it’s a bit tight. It’s good though because I don’t have to wait for luggage and I can get around pretty easily.

            I go to the train station where I’m supposed to meet someone from the hostel so he can bring me to it. He’s a guy in his 30s and shows up with his daughter who is riding a pink Hello Kitty scooter. She is the cutest little freaking kid ever. He brings me over to the apartment building. The hostel actually rents out rooms in a nice apartment building and uses those as the “hostel.”

            It’s a big living room with two three-layered bunk beds. There’s a fully equipped kitchen, storage, washing machine, and bathroom. It feels almost like living in a dorm with some people. I unpack and meet two other people that are travelling. They’re from Australia and it turns out they’ve been on a 10 week Eurotrip. They even went to Egypt a month back and have done the serious backpacking experience. They name city after city and they’ve been hopping between them and staying at each city for only three to four days each.

            I go to the local supermarket to grab some food and stuff I need. The supermarket reminds me of Prague. It has a very European feel to it and I try to be quick because I know I could spend two hours just looking through everything and inspecting each and every brand.

            For food, I get fresh bread, cheese, and ham. I then pick up all the hygiene stuff and then I grab a nap. After that, I overhear the two Australians talking about a bar crawl. I ask about that because I was planning to go out to some bars somewhere anyway. Hey, it’s Saturday night!

            By 9:00, the three of us head out. They found out about the bar crawl through a free walking tour of Paris that they took. We meet up with the people running it near the actual Moulin Rouge. It’s 12 Euro to join the bar crawl, which is about $15 (A Euro = $1.30).

            We go to the first bar and it’s pretty crowded. For 5.50 Euro, you get a pint and a free shot. The shot is BS and barely alcohol. However, it’s nice to be around English speakers. It’s basically people that are tourists. People that are studying abroad, vacationing, visiting from England, etc. I meet some random cool people. After going to two bars, we go to a smaller bar/club. I try to open a few conversations and stuff, but I give up after a while and call it quits by 1:00. The metro closes at 1:30AM.

            I get back and it’s still ‘early’ for me, so I stay up on the computer for a few hours while everyone else bitches out and sleeps. A slow first day, but we’ll see what the city will bring.

Day 2

            The sleep has finally caught up to me and I don’t get out of bed until 4PM. Well that’s a great way to spend your time in Paris… I’m groggy and shit, so I just sit around. So far, every meal has been bread, bread, and more bread. I didn’t buy much groceries, so dinner last night was a sandwich from the local bakery. Speaking about bread, my favorite food, the bread here is so good. Prague actually had awesome bread too at their random delis. Now I understand why Ela complains when we have bagged bread when in Europe, they’re used to going out every single day and getting freshly baked bread. It’s real stuff that doesn’t have preservatives, so it actually goes stale really fast if you don’t eat it.

            After eating more bread, and having eaten more bread in 2 days than I have in probably a month, I finally decide to get out and go to a creperie. The Montparnasse area is known for having creperies and I walk by dozens and dozens. However, Yelp has pointed me towards one and it’s the only one that has a line out the door. I order their special and it’s an egg, ham, mushroom, and cheese crepe. They should have this for breakfast in America. It’s a light pancake with an omelet. After that, I go to an internet café. I found out that Sleigh Bells is playing a show on Tuesday and I bought a ticket so I need to print it out.

            After that, I get back and chill out some more and get some planning done for the next day.

Day 3

            I’m overloaded with sleep, so despite going to sleep at 2:30AM. I wake up at 7:30, can’t get back to sleep, but still stay there for 1-2 hours. After having the same meal that I’ve had for the fiftieth time (bread, tomato, ham, cheese), I do my writing for the first time that I’ve been here. I do need to decide on my living situation though. I was planning on staying with a friend of a friend of Ela’s, but he hasn’t gotten back to me on Facebook messaging. I need to get on top of this and I’ll probably try calling him, though I think he’s at work. This is my last night that I have booked for the hostel, so I either need to stay with him tomorrow night, extend my booking here, or I’m screwed. Living by the edge of my seat.

            I end up calling the hostel by going downstairs, to the train station, and using a pay phone. Phone calls cost .50 Euro and I put a 1 Euro piece in. I make the phone call, and it doesn’t even give me change. $1.36 for a pay phone. Nice US Dollar. He tells me that I can book for only two more days. Ideally, I would want to book until Sunday and then find another hostel where it’s more party oriented and I can meet people, do nightlife, be in a good neighborhood for that, etc. Whatever, at least I’m safe for a few days.

            I then book another hostel from Wednesday night to Sunday. I wanted to get this nicer one, but I’m booking last minute, so I have to concede. One of the worries with some of these hostels though is a lack of lockers. I keep my wallet and passport on me, but my laptop is sometimes just chilling in the closet when I go out of this hostel. I’m fine with that though, it’s a very apartment-esque situation and the few people that are even here are chill. Either way, they’re all out during the day anyway. In a more regular hostel situation though, people can be running into and out and who knows what could happen to my stuff.

            After I book and pay and everything, I find out from Ela’s friend’s friend that he’s fine with me staying tomorrow. So I now booked for naught and I need to get that cancelled. Obviously I still lose a deposit and probably a night of paying for the hostel ($25) at least.        

            Finally all that business is past me, I get do something and go see stuff.  I take the metro to the Montmartre area to see the Sacre Coeur. It’s a basilica on the highest point of Paris. Pictures are posted on Facebook for everyone’s enjoyment. It’s a lovely site from up there.

            On my way up though, there’s these guys grabbing people’s hands wrapping them with string and tying something and trying to sell it. I will leave the guessing of the race of these individuals to the reader. I have my headphones on and I walk fast trying to get by them. This guy stops right in front of me and won’t let me by. He strongly grabs my hand and wraps a string around my finger. I try to pull my hand away, but he holds on tight. I probably say, “No thank you” about 15 times. He keeps trying to calm me down, “There’s no obligation. Where are you from? Hey, don’t worry about it.” I put a bit of pressure to pull my hand away, but I really would’ve had to put my whole weight behind it in a really aggressive way to get out of it. If I’ve learned anything from Howard Stern, never get into a fight with a black man and especially when he has a few other comrades in his area. Seriously though, this guy’s looking for a fight with this bullshit. He finally lets me go after an awkward confrontation and walk away glad I didn’t get into a ruckus with black dudes.

            In the back of my head, I feel like I knew what they were doing. With one of your hands strung up, one of the guy’s pals could’ve easily walked around from behind and snatch things from my coat pocket. It’s a really smart ploy if you think about it. It not only is a distraction, but they immobilize your entire arm with some string tying business and boom, they are free to pick at your pockets, backpack, or the bag you possibly had to set down. Then again, this is in broad daylight in front of tens and tens of other tourists trying to climb up to see the basilica, though what better place to pick pocket than one crowded with tourists.

            Around the Sacre Couer are beautiful small streets that have incredible rustic European feel to them. For those who haven’t heard my repping Blogotheque, check it out. It’s a French music site and they simply records artists playing their music in the streets of Paris. There is no lipsyncing, microphones, speakers, or anything, just the raw sound of the artist set in the gorgeous city of Paris. One of my favorite artists, Andrew Bird, did this and he walked down those streets near the Sacre Coeur. Before I took my trip, I scoured the map looking for which street he walked. This was through some great investigation skills of mine because I looked closely at the video looking for any names of establishments, I found a restaurant, Google Mapsed, and that got me what I needed.

            It’s dinner time so I go to Monoprix. It’s like a French Wal-Mart. It sells clothes, pharmacy stuff, and food. I could literally spend so much time in the supermarket, but I try to be quick about it. I grab eggs for an omelet. Butter (which is on a whole different level here), fresh bread, crème fraiche (French sour cream), goat cheese, tomatoes, and some apples. I probably should explore what other options I have and try some new things, but so far, the food has been incredible and I’m so gaining 5 pounds here.