Contrary to the train schedules provided by DeutscheBahn, the ride from Geneva to Paris is 3 hours long and only offered during the day (hence our short stay in Geneva). We therefore booked a last-minute hostel from Geneva and arrived in Paris at around 8 pm. We figured out the metro system (not without some confusion as to which giant posted map displayed the metro system). En route, we picked up 2 samosas and 2 plastic mini-bottles of wine (one red, one white) and made our way to our very temporary home.
Thankfully, we not only had a clean room, but also a heater and, best of all, a private bathroom/shower. After showering, Jay ran off in search of more food for dinner, and I washed clothes and my hair (both the first time in nearly a week).
Jay returned with Adana Kebabs (go figure) and we ate dinner. The plastic-enclosed wine was not a huge success - although the white was drinkable, the red most closely resembled rancid vinegar. Oh well, it happens. Serves us right for being cheap.
We slept nearly all the way to check-out time, then left to relocated to our previously-reserved room for the next night. Although the new location (Young and Happy Hostel - terrible, I know) had no private bathroom or shower, it was on Mouffetard Blvd. in the middle of a long string of cafes and affordable restaurants in easy walking distance from Notre Dame and the Pantheon.
After dropping off our stuff, we made our way to the Pantheon, viewing St. Etienne du Mont on the way. There was a large group of protesters near the Pantheon, with the sign "Lassaiz-nous en cours" (I apologize if I butchered that spelling), so we assumed it was a student protest. Jay looked up information on this later, from London, though. Apparently it was a protest against a new job contract by the government, and included 120,000 students in Paris and 250,000 total in France.
We then walked along the river Seine to Notre Dame before returning to the hostel to find food (crêpes avec nutella et banane? Mais oui) and unpack/start charging our camera batteries and cell phone, now that our room was accessible.
That evening was devoted to Jay's primary interest in France: the Eiffel Tower. Getting there, however, proved a formidable task. Intending to walk, we went for about 30 minutes until we realized that (A) it was getting dark and (B) we'd been walking in the wrong direction. Deciding that it would be best to just take the metro, we checked its nearest stop on our map (only a block or so away) and proceeded in that direction. After doubling back a few times and still no metro, I decided to ask *gasp* a Parisian. She was very nice, understood (surprisingly) my attempt at French (Perdón, ou est le metro?) and pointed us in the correct direction. We walked for 2 blocks, asked again, and soon were on our way to the Tour Eiffel.
It was easy enough to find, just follow the tourists. Or, hey, maybe that big lit up thing? Yeah, that would be it. Appropriately, we made it our biatch, photographically speaking, and then went to the summit (only 11 euros on the elevator, but I would have preferred the availability of stairs to allow more vantage points).
Jay's French tourist needs satisfied, we returned to the area around our hostel and had dinner - it was a lovely restaurant with a really sweet, adorable waitress, and we had the place entirely to ourselves for the whole 2 hours we were there. The food was delicious too - a greek salad, with the freshest feta cheese I've ever tasted, veal with pasta and roasted veggies, pasta and a cheese cream sauce and salmon for Jay, fabulous fresh bread, and a delicious white wine. As mentioned before, a lovely dinner.
The next morning, Jay accompanied me to the hotel my dad reserved for my grandma and me for the next two nights, the Normandy Hotel. Jay was going to leave that evening to meet Katy in London. The Normandy Hotel is about 500 steps above the hostels that Jay and I had been using. I wonder what went through the receptionist's well-groomed head when 2 somewhat scruffy-looking college students marched in wearing jeans, fleece, and backpacks - probably that we needed directions.
But no, I marched up, introduced myself, and stated that I had a reservation. Receptionist guy (we'll call him Michel; anyone who has watched Gilmore Girls should appreciate the reference - any who spoke with this receptionist would believe him to be the character's inspiration) looked me up and down, pursed his lips a bit, then checked for my name on his list. Finding it (to his surprise, I'm sure), he replied "Oui, but I'm afraid we could only book you for the one night."
"Mm. We received an e-mail confirmation for the two nights."
"Two nights were requested, but I'm afraid we are full."
"We have an e-mail confirmation from the hotel for both nights."
(He checks the folder) "Mm. But of course." And hands over the room key. i bid farewell and good train-sailing (the Eurostar train under the channel) to Jay, then make my way to my room to nap until Grandma arrives.
This was interrupted only when the TV turned itself on to greet me, "Mr/Ms. JESSICA BLACK, we would like to welcome you to the Normandy Hotel..." displayed in a dark menu-style square on top of the program running at the same time - a Spanish woman with fake neon pink nails and a pink apron, and eye shadow from her eyelashes to well into her forehead, telling us how to make spring rolls. I went back to sleep, but I'm sure my dreams were unpleasantly effected.
So ends the first part of JJCE. To be continued in Barcelona. Until then, Jessie and Grandma Explore Europe...
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