London vs Paris Part 3: A day in the life of a ‘Parisian’?!

If you haven’t guessed by now ‘She’ is ‘Sal’ and ‘Sal’ is me. I thought for the final Part of this London vs Paris blog, I’ll speak in first person for a change to allow for a more personal touch, so here I go…

26^th October 2013 – What now?

As soon as I walk out of the station I’m faced with ‘Bonjour a la blah blah blah!' I.E, ‘Can I take all of your money and convince you to accompany me to some gloomy dungeon where I will attempt to turn you in to a sex slave shortly after offering you the world for your belongings?’ I said ‘Bonjour’ and then quickly walked in the opposite direction as he continued to mutter some more ‘a la blah blah’s’ before finally leaving me alone. Thank GOD. After this I popped my ear phones in but re-framed from actually listening to any music, to appear as an unbothered local. 

The feeling as I stepped into this foreign air is something that will stay with me forever – exhilaration filled my whole being and all I wanted to do was scream from the top of my lungs ‘I made it, I’m here, Hallelujah’! …What now? After my brief encounter with ‘Mr a la blah blah’, I walked to my hostel which I found quite easily. I had a short but yet quite lovely conversation with the man at the front desk, who told me all I needed to know about the hostel and gave me the first of many maps that I would eventually lose over my stay. I dumped my bag in the left luggage locker (as I wasn’t able to check in until 4pm) and went off in search of inspiration. My hostel was lovely as were the people and it was literally 2 minutes walk from The Sacre Coeur, which is where I found myself next. 

As I walked up the stairs I’m faced with more ‘Mr a la blah blahs’ - but this time they were much more aggressive, they touched my arm quite forcefully as they tried to get my attention. They seemed to be selling something that looked very familiar to string. Standard normal string like, well just, string. I avoided them after several rounds of ‘No Merci’ was thrown back and fourth, and finally took in the incredible view of Paris. I also visited Monte Marche and saw all of the artists sitting down with their mugs of tea ready for the next onslaught of tourists to arrive. Eventually after nervously reading my phrase book for around 10 minutes, I plucked up the courage to enter a small bistro and order some food in French. 

I walked in, asked for a table, sat down, ask for the toilet, came back feeling very pleased with myself for doing all of the above in French, and then opened the menu to find that I couldn’t actually read anything on it. CRAP! I ordered a Ham baguette (in French) to which the waiter quickly removed the dinning cutlery and table cloth leaving me with just a small wooden table. He seemed slightly annoyed but was friendly enough. The food was delicious as was the coffee which was great as it cost more than my sandwich - a standard occurrence over the trip. After trying to hide my phrase book for the better half of my visit, a kind French man tapped me on the shoulder at the last minute whilst I was paying my bill. ‘Is this yours?’ he said in perfect English as he handed me my phrase book that had fallen onto the floor. AWKWARD! I then left him and the friendly waiting staff to explore the area. 

I didn’t know where I was going and didn’t follow the map at all, I quite literally got lost in Paris and it was fantastic. After crossing many roads, which is quite the experience as the green man doesn’t necessarily mean that traffic will stop, I was suddenly faced with something incredible – my first traditional view of Paris. At precisely 1.07pm, a lady rode by on her bicycle with a baguette in the front basket wearing a red Beret! JOY OF ALL JOYS! I really didn’t think this would happen so soon into my trip, but it was everything I'd expected… and more, quite the sight. 

I eventually found the river seine and as I felt my feet beginning to give way, I saw the second most incredible sight (after the lady on the bicycle). My first view of the Eiffel tower. At once I was filled with emotions of happiness and joy as I felt my eyes welling up with those tears of absolute elation, that I'd been saving up. What a beautiful building that is, and apparently it was only built to survive 10 years. Incredible. I walked along the river towards the tower and sat underneath it after passing a row of heavily armed guards. I heard my first English voice of the day and asked them where the metro station was, not to actually know but just to make conversation.

I then at precisely 3.12pm realised that London Underground is my friend. I joke, but seriously the Metro in Paris was quite difficult to understand at first, although the people were a treat. You can imagine the scene as I ran up to the train doors and said to one of the passengers ‘Pardon, Anvers?’ to which she replied ‘We’, which I am aware is not how you spell it. Correction: ‘Oui’. This also reminded me of my appalling language skills earlier when a passer-by asked me something in French and I replied with ‘Je voudrais anglais’! Which translates ‘I WOULD LIKE ENGLISH’! How rude of me… I think I meant to say ‘Parla vouz Anglais’ there. As I took her picture by some random tree I decided that upon my return I must learn to speak a language. It was so inspiring to hear a Moroccan lady speak both French and English perfectly well along with her own language of Arabic, and as you can imagine we ended up having quite the conversation.

I arrived back at my hostel at around 3.30pm. My room was ready so I unpacked, managing to obtain the bottom bunk, and sat out on the terrace for a while. I read up on Paris, drank some water, wrote for 2 hours and then decided to go back up to The Sacre Couer and find somewhere to eat. Perhaps another bistro I pondered as I put my shoes back on and headed for the door.

Throughout my first day in Paris I had visited some amazing places, met some incredibly inspiring people, and that evening heard the most fascinating stories I have ever heard before. On this day and in that moment I realised that for me, Paris had won!

Answers on a postcard: (refer to ‘Everyday Ends in Y’) …I was going to work. Bill Pullman celebrates Independence Day on the same day and at the same time as everybody else. AND as previously suggested ‘Post-it’ notes were not actually invented by Michele from ‘Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion’ but in fact by some fellow called Arther Fry…google it!

Next time on Your Head Not Mine …an apology for the length of this three part blog FEATURING Comedy, Spoons, Tupperware and …comedy spoons in Tupperware.  Tune in Soon to find out…BOOM!

London vs Paris Part 2: EuroStar!

She woke up, packed, had some breakfast and was ready to go. As she walked to the station she felt a considerable amount of stones in her right shoe. This was most distressing and felt like she was walking on a beach somewhere in a faraway deserted place. No one was about apart from the odd drunk and occasional shop keeper. And then there were the people like her, the travellers with their mountains of luggage which sometimes included children – if you can call children ‘luggage’ which I’m sure by most parent’s standards, you can.

 

She arrived at Kings Cross St Pancras station at around 5am. Well ahead of schedule which was a real treat for someone who panics slightly at the thought of running late or not being organised enough. She bought a couple of forgotten supplies such as hand cream and gum, before walking through customs, setting off the alarm, and getting mistakenly padded down by one of Eurostar’s female officer’s. And there she was sitting in the lounge, waiting. Waiting to walk, waiting to board, waiting for the small ‘wait in lounge’ sign to change and start flashing to her particular platform number. As soon as she had settled into the idea of waiting, a loud announcement (in French) sounded out and the people around her stopped waiting, and starting walking. She got up and saw the screen immediately start flashing with the location:

PLATFORM 6         PLATFORM 6          PLATFORM 6          

She walked for what seemed like miles to carriage number 17, wondering if she was indeed walking to Paris itself. She found seat 24 and began the first 2 and a half hours of this, her solo adventure. She wondered what this trip would bring, and imagined all the places and people she may encounter over the next week. Her ears occasionally popped as she watched the world (or at least England) go by, and then she did the unthinkable. She turned her data-roaming OFF! No Facebook, no tweeter, no Instagram and no form of internet communication whatsoever for the next 7 days. She was completely on her own and had never felt so liberated. She never knew a world without the internet could be so refreshing, and for a moment considered doing it permanently. Feelings of excitement filled her emotions so much so that she almost started to cry. She soon stopped herself as she realised that she’ll need to save some of those tears up, for the overwhelming experience of ARRIVAL.  

Twenty minutes in the dark and the train reached day light, by far the quickest crossing she had ever experienced. After receiving a message from T-Mobile confirming her suspicions, she saw that France actually looked very similar to England, very green with fields everywhere. As she sat gazing out of the window, she started to feel a bit peculiar with the knowledge that the people she knew, weren’t actually that far away at all. The world became an even smaller place when she received a few text messages from well-wishers, and continued her journey feeling even more at ease, as the rising sun blocked out the unknown path ahead of her.

ANOTHER TUNNEL! This time only lasting seconds and she was then in what looked like some kind of industrial estate from the 1980’s. As she flicked through the Eurostar magazine trying to avoid the various ‘2 for 1 promotions’, she heard two announcements, one in French and one in English. She was informed that she had nearly arrived at her final destination, ‘Gare De Nord’ station.  

This was where the real challenge began, as she entered this new experience ready to take on and embrace absolutely everything that came her way! 

Top Tip: Always carry a map and remember…traffic comes from the LEFT!

London vs Paris Part 1: A day in the life of a Londoner!

Every morning she woke up and wondered what she was waking up for. She would jump in the shower, get dressed, grab some toast and walk the 7 minutes to the train station. Occasionally she would stop at the shop and buy some lunch or some gum, depending on if she were late or not…or hungry or not. Once at the station and stood upon the platform she would look up to the sky and see pictures in the clouds, and if there were no clouds she would take a picture of the sky and draw them in later.She would draw pictures of almost anything - people, faces, buildings, sandwiches. 

On the train she would stand. Sometimes because she would be sitting down all day and this was the only opportunity she would have to stand, and sometimes to avoid the awkward offering of a seat to the disabled or pregnant person that she was unaware of. The journey would take 16 minutes and would stop 7 times before she would leave. Most days she would see people that she’d seen before and she would wonder where they were going, and what they would be doing with their day. She would stare at them when they weren’t looking and would often get caught out. When it was crowded she would try and stand near to the door. This was to make sure that come her stop she was able to exit the train with no real problems. It was also to stop tall men from leaning over her, inevitably ended up with her face in their uncleansed armpit.

Once at her stop she would leave without a wave, without a goodbye, without the knowledge as to when she would see these people again, if ever. Sometimes she would look back and see if anyone was looking on at her thinking the same. However, this would usually result in her colluding with the 30,000 other people that had also got off at her stop.

From the station she would walk the 35 seconds to her location. She would sit down and attempt to fast forward the time to the end of the day. She would put all of her thoughts and energy in to the hands of the large clock at the end of the room, in hope that it will eventually move forward.

Most mornings she would wonder if a dream really was just a dream. She would think about how this reality was much darker than what she’d been taught, or least what she expected as a child. There were far less rainbows, far less woodland creatures, far less people with tails...or tails with people. 

At lunch time she would think of ways in which to make the afternoon go quicker. She would also think of how to make the work more entertaining for herself. This would usually involve stationary. She would think about the vast amount of things you can do with stationary. Like set traps for the borrowers.

The end of the day would finally arrive and she would be greeted with the same scenario as the start of the day upon the famous, London Underground. She would get home, sit down, eat and then sleep before waking up and starting all over again, and then again and then again.

One day she woke up and made a conscious decision. She decided to believe that the people with tails, and the tails with people really did exist. From that day on she would see rainbow’s everywhere. The people on the train transformed into small woodland creatures that would watch her from afar and wave her goodbye knowing that they would see her again. All of her dreams became reality, and she knew that the next time someone’s armpit was in her face, she would take a moment and have a little smile to herself. Because at the end of the day, sometimes a world of imagination is the very reality we need, to move on to the next adventure.