the rest of that night was basically a test of endurance against two mighty foes: the cold and the high heel. the trains shut down around 3 am, which left us wandering around an area none of us knew were familiar with. two girls in our party had to -- forgive my crudeness -- pop a squat in some bushes, as there were no bathrooms to be found. and, i mean, when you gotta go, you gotta go.
a rowdy group of boys accosted us in the champs elysees, clamoring to hold our hands, kiss us, hug us, and generally invade every inch of our personal space. i've never experienced anything like that in my life. in new york this kind of behavior would warrant police involvement, screams of assault, questioning and perhaps hysterical tears. when we managed to tear ourselves away a couple of gendarmes who were standing nearby merely asked if we still had all of our money.
two hours of pointless wandering later, nicole and i decided to give up on the idea of miraculously finding a cheap club, partying until the sun rose with exotic and sexy young frenchmen. we had chips back in our hostel. chips and beds. oh man, BEDS. we were ready to go.
heather and her friends were staying in le mans, which was an hour train ride from paris, and the next train wasn't until 7 am. sympathetic but unwilling to help us find our way home, we parted company, shouting goodbyes and thanks and bonne annees before realizing we were stranded on a busy paris street, nearly frozen to the spot, and completely, utterly lost. we thought of heading back towards the champs elysees but thought better of it; what if our fanboys were still there and the extremely helpful gendarmes weren't? according to the map we found, our hostel was not within walking distance. (shoes, weather, and manner of civilians still out and about were taken into consideration.) and according to a group of guys who we suddenly found ourselves next to, cabs never stopped on this street; we'd have to walk back to champs elysees and hope to get one. fantastic.
one of our friends suggested a train, one that, i realized after studying his map, would take us to the airport with no real hope of coming back before daybreak, much less stopping at the station across from our hostel. i tried to explain as much to him in my intermediate-level french, and he alternated between boozy agreement and vehement head shakes. imagine another half hour of this.
finally nicole and i went to the edge of the sidewalk and waved our arms frantically until, gasp, a cab pulled over. we did the obligatory "oui, obama!" exchange with the driver before falling silent and listening to him carry on a radid-fire conversation with a previous passenger who was sitting in the front seat. my brain literally hurt (like every other part of me) with the effort of trying to understand, so i gave up. nicole was already dozing peacefully against her window. i looked out at all the drunken stragglers and yellow-lit restaurants as we sped through the sprawling city streets, flexing my numbed toes in my shoes. bonne annee.
the next day we awoke to a maid knocking on our door, politely asking "Vous restez ici?" oops. no, we weren't staying, sorry, we're checking out in five minutes. hurriedly showering, cleaning our mess from last night and throwing our clothes back into our suitcases, we made our way downstairs, sure that the man at reception who had been so helpful last night when we needed a cork for our wine would have an ice glare and choice words for us oversleepers.
he smiled benignly and nodded when he asked if we could leave our luggage there for the day while we explored the city. well. that was easier than expected.
our explorations proved pretty useless; stores were closed and the streets were, for the most part, completely empty. surprise, surprise, it's new year's day! did we expect parades and dancing in the streets? everyone was nursing their hangovers and scrubbing vomit from their carpets. disappointed and bit bored, we did what you do in paris: went to a cafe.
our evening was spent wandering around montmartre, admiring the glittering lights and cozy atmosphere of the small tourist district. once again, we failed in finding any decent bars or clubs, so we went to a restaurant for some crepes, which were divine but not nearly filling enough. immediately after leaving we found an italian resturant where we ordered two plates of spaghetti, and returned to our hostel to eat while watching phantom of the opera (in french, naturally.)
[if you know anything about me, you won't need me to describe my paroxysms of delight upon finding this movie.]
the following day we awoke to snow. imagine our delight. thankfully, it wasn't sticking, and didn't last night, but we did experience brief pangs of worry that our flight would be delayed or cancelled. then we laughed at ourselves. being stuck in paris -- what a TRAVESTY! keep snowing, keep snowing!
oh well.
we made our way back to montmartre to try and pack as many touristy things done as possible before our flight that evening. we visited the moulin rouge, located in the red light district -- no giant elephant or singing moon, but it was exciting nonetheless.
we wanted to explore the west bank, perhaps go visit oscar wilde's grave, among many famous others (okay, so that was mostly me) but the gates were closed. according to the sign, they should have been open, and one bespectacled man bearing a large backpack pointed this out to the impassive guard on the other side of the gate numerous times to no response. another couple was there, and the four of us watched the exchange (or, lack thereof) for a couple minutes, before giving up and walking away. when we looked back about 30 seconds later, the man with the backpack was gone. we hadn't heard the gate open or close. that was rather eerie.
we then tried to find the restaurant"les deux moulins" (the two windmills) as featured in the movie amelie (okay, again, that was me; nicole had never seen the movie) but after inquiring after its whereabouts of a sour-faced man at a newspaper kiosk, he peevishly pointed out that there were many restaurants in montmartre; how was he supposed to know where this particular one was? rawr. fine. i suppose i should have looked up the address anyway.
we found notre dame! and, predictably, i began humming "the bells of notre dame", straining to see if i could find a familiar hunched shape up in the bell tower. (i watch too much disney.) two italian guys asked for pictures with us, which was vaguely flattering and mildly puzzling. we loitered for a bit near the tourist trap tables that attempted to wheedle us into spending money on 'authentic french' bits and bobs like magnets with the eiffel tower on them or mugs portraying the green fairy. no thanks.
the rest of the day was really just a blur of walking, walking, walking. we must have walked the total distance of the circumference of paris, even if we weren't necessarily able to visit everywhere we wanted.
highlights:
-another tiny cafe. we ordered crepes (we couldn't get enough) and espressos, because we were in france and in france you drink coffee. note to self: never spend money on espressos again. liquid despair. although it did warm us up a bit.
-centre pompidou. we had no idea what this was and most likely went completely out of the way to find it. it was a huge modern art museum with a line that stretched into eternity. and we had neither the money nor time to go inside. however, there was a man holding a lively mini-puppet show in the center of the waiting area; so that amused us for a couple minutes before we were off again.
-H&M. i know, i know, they are everwhere, including menlo park mall back in ol' edison, new jersey. we did not go to france to shop in H&M. but... come on. we're girls. we stopped in H&M.
-a restaurant called raclettes, famous for their...raclettes. giant blocks of cheese that come in a small iron stove that you scrape off as it melts and slather over your choice of meat or vegetables. horrifyingly unhealthy and just as delicious. we both groaned and moaned and generally wanted to be rolled back to our hostel after we finished eating.
-opera garnier: setting of gaston leroux's 1910 novel Le Fantôme de l'Opéra, one of the dearest stories to my heart. by this time the hour was late and our time in paris was up. a very fitting last stop, in my opinion.
paris, je t'aime. we'll be back.
Ooh La La...Gay Paree
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