I wanted to see if the “south of France” was as beautiful and lovely as people said it was. I was deciding between Nice and Cannes, considering the differences in people and vibe. Ultimately, Nice won out.
Tuesday, 28 October: Arrived in Nice
Wednesday, 29 October: Walked down Promenade des Anglais, Went up to Colline du Chateau, strolled through old town Nice
Thursday, 30 October: Depart Nice
Nice was a very nice and beautiful city. It’s quite different from Paris, but it was still France. It was relaxing partly because I decided to relax instead of packing the day full of sightseeing.
I wish I had stayed longer, I wish the beach was made of sand instead of rocks, and I wish I visited when it was warmer.
I also only learned when I got there that while there was little to do in Nice, it was the town to take day trips from because there were so many cities nearby that had slightly different vibes. I would definitely return.
I took an SNCF train from Paris to Nice, with many stops along the way. It took about five and a half hours.
I booked a first-class seat to see what it’s like, but the car and the seats did not look first-class. The car was mostly empty, but I sat across an older classy lady who seemed to want to have as little to do with me as possible, so I kept to myself for the ride. I even tried to keep my snacks and things on my side of the table, and she seemed to have done the same. There was an outlet that kind of worked depending on how the plug was inserted; at first I thought my phone suddenly stopped charging.
Once I arrived at Nice-Ville station right before, I bought a train ticket to Ventimiglia for my departure in two days at the counter before they closed for the day. I asked the staff about departure times, and for the life of me, I could not understand French numbers. She said something like “Neuf heures vingt-cinq minutes” and while I recognized that those were French words, I had to repeat it to myself multiple times, until she got a little frustrated and wrote it out, and everything suddenly clicked and made sense again. Embarrassed, I continued to communicate in French, because I didn’t think she knew I spoke English, but I said as few words as I could, like “D’accord” (Okay) and “Merci beaucoup.”
Then, I walked the fifteen-or-so minutes to my hostel, which was near the beach. It was already dark, but it felt pretty safe. While the temperatures were already cool, the small streets and short buildings definitely had that small vacation town vibe, and like many of the European cities I had been to so far, it reminded me a little of of my original hometown of Macau.
The walk up to the hostel felt a bit shady, partly because it was kind of dark and unappealing. It felt like a regular old apartment building. There was also a sign on the elevator door saying that those staying at the hostel may not use the elevator. But once I got to the reception floor, the place looked like pictures online, albeit a bit more worn.
The space was pretty cozy, and there were plenty of people hanging out. There was only one person working at the front desk, and he was already helping out the guests ahead of me. The guests spoke Spanish, and the staff (named Luis) seemed very comfortable and fluent in communicating in Spanish as well. I also heard him speak English to another guest in between, so that comforted me.
I could tell by Luis’ body language that he was a bit stressed at being seemingly the only staff taking care of check-ins and guest issues, but he also seemed to handle it with determination. I could not imagine how it would feel for me to be doing a job like that.
When I checked in, Luis was very friendly, professional, and thorough with everything. Even though it was busy, he did not rush through the process and made sure I had what I needed. I was given my key, the password for the Wi-Fi, and a map of Nice.
I booked a four-bed mixed dorm. When I entered the room, there were four twin-size bed laid out in a room with just enough space in between to walk through; three across and one on the side. I couldn’t believe how basic it was. There were already two guys laying down in their beds looking at their phones. They were both Asian but they didn’t seem to know each other. I briefly said hi and just kept to myself, unpacking and settling in on the only empty bed, which, to my relief, was by the wall instead of being in the middle of the room between other guests.
I met the remaining roommate later in the evening. To my surprise, it was a woman. I forgot I had booked a mixed dorm, and seeing the two guys in the room when I entered made me think it was an all-male dorm.
The woman’s name was Lisa, and she was from Australia. She was traveling for a few weeks before heading back to work. She’s a really cool chick who convinced me to relax and take a breather in Nice (see People).
(In the panoramic photo, the middle part was the bathroom, and the right was the locker cubbies and entrance)
The bed was a simple mattress with sheets and on a frame. There was an outlet and lamp next to each bed. There’s a small nightstand table in between the beds to share.
There’s a full-height window with a small balcony for a view onto the street. There’s an air conditioner but it wasn’t used. At the entrance were small locker cubbies. But that area was too dark to see inside. The entire room had limited lighting overall. I want to say these rooms were refitted to be used as hostels, but I wouldn’t be able to figure out what the shape of the room used to be; because the room as it stood had a weird shape.
The bathroom looked like a regular home’s bathroom. With a sink, toilet, and shower tightly fit into a space.
I had to wash my clothes, but since there was no place to hang anything in the room, I hung my clothes in the bathroom overnight. But I forgot they were in there the next morning, and Lisa moved them aside so she could take a shower. I was a bit embarrassed but she said it was fine.
On my second evening, the toilet became clogged, and we couldn’t fix it. Flushing it just filled the bowl with more and more water. We told the staff and they said they would have someone fix it the next day. In the mean time, we used the bathroom by the front desk downstairs, which was weirdly also a full bathroom with a shower, along with all the shampoo bottles that old guests left behind.
A few feet from the front desk was the small couch area. A few feet from the front desk was the small dining area. A few feet from the front desk was the small kitchen. The entire common area was a small space. It could be converted to a small apartment for a couple or a young family, and even then it’s kind of tight. Instead, it was used as the hangout area for fifteen to twenty grown adults. Somehow the photos online made the place look larger than it was.
It was the only place in the hostel that guests could socialize. Guests hanging out in the common area were either already in a group or socially forced to switch on their extroverted side and start talking to people and make friends. My theory was that because everyone was so close together in that space, the awkwardness of not talking to strangers next to them would be so strong they had to talk to break the tension.
The kitchen was moderately equipped with pots, pans, and utensils. However, the problem was having three groups of people trying cook dinner at the same time. Even though many people were cooking pasta; it was a slightly different variation and the pots could not be reused. Also, some people would leave the used equipment in the sink while other people were still trying to cook and may need something from the dirty pile.
Seeing this, I decided to just make a simple salad by getting the items from the store and assembling it in the kitchen. But even then took more effort than it needed to be. There was limited counter space, and we ran out of forks. I had overage so I had to leave some stuff in the kitchen while I ate my first serving. And of all the things this kitchen was equipped with, paper towels or napkins were not one of them, so I ran to the Carrefour City downstairs and bought some with my own money and just left it in the kitchen for all to use. It was a cluster-F but somehow it all worked out, though I didn’t stay to find out who did the dishes.
Wi-Fi was good. More or less the same as urban areas in major American cities. It worked in the hostel room as well as the common area.
Impression of the Hostel
The hostel was in a great location, and for the price, it’s pretty decent. This is closer to what I thought a hostel would be. But after having stayed in more organized hostel organizations in London and Paris, I would pay a little more to have more space and organization. Still, for a few nights, this place was doable, affordable, and allowed for socializing opportunities.
There was a bus system in the city, but since I had very little agenda in Nice, I walked everywhere in the area. And the area around the beach was very walkable, provided there was enough time
Time of year: late October.
My body composition: 29 years old, 160-ish pounds, 6 feet tall, prefers high 70s/low 80s, primarily sweats during exercise only.
During the day, the sun warmed up the city just enough to be comfortable. Since it was already late October, the temperature couldn’t really get too high. When walking a lot, especially up a bunch of stairs, it got a little warm. A T-shirt would be fine.
In the early hours or later in the day, it cooled a bit, and a light jacket was needed, especially when not moving much.
The people are generally in a good mood. It’s Nice, and the south of France!
One of my hostel roommates, Lisa, the one who inspired me to take a day off (see Activities), was an outgoing Australian woman who made friends on her trip left and right. She was cool to talk to, with no agenda other than to enjoy the company of fellow travelers. She included me into her group of newly made hostel friends at dinner and even invited me to go out with them to bars afterwards, though I politely declined.
We talked about travel styles, and we discovered we were practically on the opposite side, at least on this trip. The way she describe the freedom she had of not knowing where on her travels she would be or do the next day planted the seeds in my head that I should consider that travel style the next time I traveled.
By this time, I was getting used to being around French words and phrases. Since I took it easy in Nice, I didn’t really interact with that many people that would require me to speak French. Other than buying the train ticket at the station, I didn’t really have to use French so much. The staff at the hostel spoke English. At the grocery store, I just looked at the number on the cashier machine and gave them my money. At a candy store, the lady just assumed I spoke English.
After four action-packed days in Paris, the city of my fifteen-year dream, I was pretty exhausted, both from Paris and from the trip. I originally planned to visit the Matisse Museum on the other side of town, but the thought of researching bus routes to get there made me realized I needed a break.
Fortunately, I told one of my hostel roommates about this and she commiserated with me, telling me that it happened to her recently, and she decided to just do nothing and take a day off. The idea intrigued me, and as the evening went on, I was more and more on board with doing that.
Promenade des Anglais
So the next day, I slept in a little bit, had breakfast at the hostel, and took my time to get ready. I first walked toward the beach, which was two blocks away, and enjoyed the beautiful view of the water. It was such a calming scene that I wish I could have that for the rest of my life.
I consciously told myself to take my time and stroll along the promenade, but it felt strange because every day for the past three weeks had been planned out, at the latest one day before. That day, my one goal was to head up to the Colline du Chateau, and the rest of the day was unplanned. Not knowing what I would be doing was a little scary and still felt a little wasteful, especially when I would be in town for one full day and I still wanted to make the most of it. I reminded myself it’s what I needed, so I went along with it.
Colline du Chateau
I got to the end of the promenade, at the foot of Colline du Chateau. I noticed that there’s an elevator ride for a small fee, but being used to walking and hiking for the past few weeks, I did not mind taking the stairs instead.
The stairs went on longer than I thought, but it was doable given enough time. Once I got to (first?) observation deck, I could see the iconic view of Nice and the shore. I took a few photos, including one for my friend who had been there six months and one day prior.
Old Town Nice
After Colline du Chateau, I had no other plans. So I walked away from the promenade and the beach into Old Town Nice and walked around. The roads were much narrower and more windy, making the buildings seem taller. There were mainly souvenirs shops, which didn’t really interest me.
I got out of Old Town and crossed a long strip of greenery, the Promenade du Paillon, and to more regular streets. I bought some lunch and snacks at a Carrefour City grocery store, and continued walking aimlessly until I reached a long street (Avenue Jean Médecin) of big retail stores, along with rail tracks down the middle. It was meant to be the shopping area of Nice, I suppose.
I walked up and down the avenue, looking for restaurants that might interest me, even though I already bought food. I checked out a candy shop and bought different kinds of caramels.
Lunch at the Promenade
I was getting hungry so I made my way back to the Promenade, walking through Jardin Albert I. I sat at one of the benches on the Promenade, had my lunch and snacks (store-bought macarons). And watched people pass by.
Then I moved to a bench that was closer to the beach and just looked out into the sea for as long as I could, logging a little bit as well, making an effort to relax and enjoy the moment. I think I still needed to work on that.
After probably an hour and a half, I headed back to the hotel and rested there and cleaned up my things a little bit to get ready for my departure the next day.
A note about my relationship with food: I am more of a “eat to live” type of guy. In my regular daily life, I try to eat very healthy, and I splurge a little bit once in a while. When I’m traveling, I loosen my restrictions a bit and eat what I can get, while still trying to select the healthiest choice. However, if there is a dish or a food that is well known where I’m traveling, and it’s within my taste preference and budget, I would put in extra effort to try it. And my weakness is desserts.
There were many cafes near the hostel, but again, the intimidation of going to a restaurant was getting to me, and a quick glance at the menu signs and pictures of dishes didn’t seem to interest me.
So for both mornings, I had breakfast at the hostel. The kitchen/dining area was small to begin with, so there was only so many foods laid out to guests to have. There were the usual toast and different spreads, coffees, teas, juice.
There was this “croissant” pastry that was individually prepackaged and came in two flavors: I believe one was chocolate and the other vanilla. They were essentially breads shaped like a croissant and had filling inside. While they tasted fine, the marketing disappointed to my imagination. Still, since there was little else to eat, I grabbed two.
I believe there was yogurt too, and despite having removed dairy from my diet, I had it anyway just so I can be full.
Lunch and Dinner
For “proper” meals, I made salads by getting prepackaged salads from the Carrefour City right next to my hostel and added canned tomatoes and chicken slices. It may have been a sad salad, but I actually found comfort in the self-sufficiency and being satisfied with this simple dish as a meal. It also helped cleaned my system a little bit from eating all the snack food on the trip.
On my full day in Nice, I bought a pre-assembled salad from another Carrefour City, but with as many ingredients from my normal diet and as as few ingredients not in my diet as I could find, again to try to eat clean. I didn’t eat the breadsticks or use the vinaigrette dressing. I did eat the cookie though.
For the snack side, I got a pack of macarons from the store and they tasted dry and over-sweetened. Now I could tell the difference between good macarons (like Ladurée’s) and mediocre ones (like from a grocery store).
In my aimless walk around town, I bought some caramels from a nice little shop on Avenue Jean Médicin. They had lots of chocolates and caramels. And since I was staying away from chocolate for a little while, I got two types of caramels, and they were both delicious. The plain caramels were rich and with the right balance between sweet and salty.
In the hostel dorm room, there was a binder with recommendations for things to do and eat in Nice. One of the items famous in Nice was the Niçoise Salad. I actually tried to look for the recommended restaurants near the old town area, but I either couldn’t find them or they were packed with diners. I regretted not trying it but would definitely do a better job next time.
I walked the fifteen-or-so minutes from the hostel back to the train station, but this time during the day, and the walk somehow felt longer than before.
The train from Nice to Ventimiglia was relatively short (thirty minutes). The seats were more compact and looked more used. It was sort of like a commuter train, especially since I saw crowds in business attire come on and off the train at the same stops.
The train also made a quick stop at Monaco station. I didn’t get off, but I think that still technically counted that I was in Monaco.
The train also took a scenic route by water in the south of France before heading inland. That made me realized that I had not been by a body of water at all for the entire trip so far, and I would not again until the end of the trip. That was also probably why I liked Nice so much.
From My Travel Log
29 October 2014, 2:36pm, Nice, Promenade des Anglais
Decided to take Australian roommate’s advice and just do nothing today. After days of activities or staying in the hostel using the Wifi, it’s taking some getting used to to do nothing by the beach. Still not used to it.
Three weeks ago was 10/8, and it was my free day in Cuzco…
30 October 2014, 9:37am, France, outside of Nice, on train to Ventimiglia
I haven’t mentioned this on the log, but I’ve said it a few times to others. But ever since arriving in Paris, I felt very tired of traveling and want to go home. But knowing that there’s a whole other half of the trip I haven’t been to and haven’t done was enough to snap me out of that thinking and continue. I still feel tired but I’m not going to let that stop my trip. It’s just too silly. That’s also why I took it easy yesterday in Nice. In retrospect, it felt a little like a waste, but I felt that it was a bigger waste of my schedule to only have one full day to explore a place. For all my future trips, I’m going to do at least three nights, two full days: first day to arrive and get settled, second day to do a city tour and go out at night, third day to do whatever else and also go out if I want, and fourth day to leave. That’s the bare minimum for a new city/destination. More if it’s a major place like Paris.
4 November 2014, 2:59pm, rome Da Francesco
Of all the places I’ve been in Europe, I think the place I would most likely to come back to is Nice. The scene is beautiful, and there seems to be more things to do in the area.
Lady who was patient with me when I bought Nice->Ventimiglia ticket, can’t figure out “nerf heures vingt-cinq”‘s meaning on the spot.
Luis the receptionist
Lisa who’s full of extrovertedness and inadvertently suggested that I not do anything in Nice, which makes me feel unproductive still, but I think I need it at the moment to not do more planning for the day.
Conor and Lisa’s gang
Australian ladies who helped me take photo from Colline du Chateau
Lady who helped sell me caramels and spoke English as I try to use my Italian
Receptionist lady who helped explained toilet situation
Couple from Denver who were on train to Milan also and made me feel relieved that Milan train doesn’t have a platform.
The beach in Nice are mostly rocks. But the view is still gorgeous.
If you have time, take day trips out of Nice, like to Cannes, Antibes, Monaco, and any other places people recommend.
Go up Colline du Chateau for another beautiful view of Nice. There’s probably one of the most frequented places, but there’s a reason.
This was the city I must visit on the trip. I had wanted to go to Paris since I started taking French in freshman year of high school. It was a city that was always talked about and seen in pictures and movies, but never been. Learning more about the language and the culture with every school year just fueled my desire and dreams of “being French” and being surrounded by every stereotypical and unique aspects of the French culture. This visit was fifteen years, more than half my life, in the making.
Friday 24 October: Arrived in Paris, checked in to hostel, visit Eiffel Tower
Saturday 25 October: Walked by Notre Dame, went up the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, Champs Élysées, nightlife
Sunday 26 October: Musée d’Orsay, crêpe, Seine, Pont des Arts, Ladurée macarons, Jardin du Trocadéro, Tour Montparnasse 56
Monday 27 October: Louvre, Sacre Cœur, Moulin Rouge, Parc Montsouris, Eiffel Tower at night
Tuesday 28 October: Last Eiffel Tower visit, departed Paris via Gare Lyon train station
Clearly, I had a lot of expectations of Paris, which I was very aware. That’s why I kind of reverse-psychologied myself and lowered my expectations. In the end, it netted out even: there were parts of Paris that I liked/loved, like the Eiffel Tower and the “French-ness” of the city. And then there were parts that bothered me, like the grittiness of the Metro stations and the random wafts of urine in certain corners by the Seine.
Of course, four days were not enough to fully experience the city, so I would definitely return and spend more time exploring different parts of the city. But the realness of Paris as a typical urban city sort of diluted my longtime dream of living in Paris. But if I was asked to live there, I wouldn’t mind giving it try either.
I took the Eurostar train from London’s St. Pancras International station. I wrote briefly about it in my London post.
I sat at a table seat on the train, thinking that I could meet people on the way. But everyone pretty much kept to themselves, and since I have long legs, it was a bit uncomfortable having to adjust where my legs were with the person sitting in front of me.
The train was packed, and there were so many little interactions and incidents during the train ride that I was afraid it was a foreshadowing of what’s to come in Paris. There was an incident where a child’s hand was caught between siding doors during boarding. And there was a mother who had trouble getting her two kids to behave and to stop bothering the passengers sitting across their table. They were somewhat entertaining to watch during the ride to see what kind of trouble they could get into.
After going through the tunnel for a not-too-long, not-too-short amount of time, the train emerged into a gloomy sky and fields of unremarkable muted greenery. There was nothing I could point to that would tell me that I had entered France.
I booked my stay in Paris at the St. Christopher’s Inn, Gare du Nord. It’s a really nice and organized hostel that I wouldn’t mind staying again if I had to book at a minute’s notice.
The location was quite convenient, just about one block from the Gare du Nord station, which was also where my train from London to Paris ended. Ironically, it took me longer that it should to find the hostel because it was a bit tucked in on a side street.
I stayed in a four-person coed ensuite dorm. My dorm mates were two young women from Brazil and a man from the Middle East. The women knew little English, and the man knew more. There were two bunk beds, a table with a chair. There were also hooks but the women from Brazil already claimed/used them when I arrived. The window looked out to the central atrium with the hostel restaurant/bar on the ground floor.
I stayed in the top bunk, and at the head of each bed, there were a French power outlet, lamp, and two USB outlets! That was by far the best bed set up at any place I stayed during the trip, not even just for hostels. Each bed even had curtains for privacy.
Under the two bunk beds were large wire baskets on casters as our lockers. To get to it, it must be pulled out from under the bunk bed almost all the way, then the top hinges open. It’s kind of hard to get to, especially if the space in between the two bunk beds was obstructed by people or people’s things. It’s a neat idea to save space, but it’s sort of a poorly designed experience. Plus, it’s all-metal structure made it noisy to put in or take out locks.
The bathroom was pretty standard and clean. The only ventilation was a tucked-away fan above the shower, so after someone showered, the bathroom got very steamy and took a while to clear out.
For guests who stayed in non-ensuite rooms, there’s a dorm-style bathroom with individual toilet stalls and shower stalls. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to use it since I had my own bathroom, but I used it a few times when my bathroom was occupied.
The staff was quite professional and competent. They were quite knowledgeable and helpful. They mostly spoke English and well. It occurred to me that this hostel was probably run by an English-speaking company and are welcome by and popular with English-speaking guests.
I decided on the day of to get a Skip-the-Lines ticket of the Eiffel Tower through a company they were partnering with, and the staff got on the phone, asked for a few pieces of information, and booked a spot for me in the early afternoon. It was pretty convenient and helpful.
On bedroom floors, there were a few couches in the hallway for small groups to hang out in. Since guests only had access to their floors, there were plenty of closed doors between the first floor and the guests’ dorms. Many of those doors required the right credentials to get pass, and having to go through the doors just made me feel trapped in a maze.
On the ground floor, there’s the Belushi’s restaurant/bar, where there were bar tables and stools throughout the floor along with regular tables. They served free breakfast in the morning, become a “regular” restaurant for lunch and dinner, and slowly morphed into a bar at night. After a certain hour, the staff migrate the guests to the basement floor to continue the party while they clean up the emptied Belushi’s for the next morning.
There was a laundry room on the top floor, with multiple washing and drying machines. The instructions were easy enough to follow but had a small learning curve of how the whole thing was set up. Instead of putting coins in slots at each machine, they went into one central register and guests press the button for the specific washer/dryer they wanted to use. Also, the machines only took a certain denomination of coins.
Sweet, sweet Wi-Fi! The Wi-Fi speed at this hostel was unbelievable. The hostel prided themselves on having really good Internet speed for their guests in their rooms. I managed to back up a good amount of my photos while using it. The Wi-Fi worked in the common areas as well, but once outside of the hostel, the connection dropped pretty quickly. It made me want to stay at the hostel instead of going out to explore Paris as much as I could.
Impression of Hostel
St. Christopher’s Inn was a really organized, well-run hostel. It sort of reminded me of Pariwana in Cuzco, Peru in terms of how tight of a ship they ran. But the Wi-Fi was amazing, the dorm looked clear, and it’s located near a major train station. One thing that could improve would be that the bar staff could be friendlier. Again, I wondered if it was a French thing, even when I tried to withhold judgment for as long as I could.
After arriving in Paris at Gare du Nord station, I immediately got a Paris Visite five-day pass at a ticket counter. While in line, I practiced the sentence I was going to say multiple times, “Je voudrais acheter le billet « Paris Visite » pour cinq jours.” And it worked like a normal interaction. In my head, I did a little happy dance. If that was the only French sentence I successfully communicated for the trip, I would be satisfied and a little proud.
With the ticket, I could ride the Metro anywhere within zone 1 to 3, which were concentric circles moving out from the center of Paris. That covers most of the major sites in Paris.
The problem with these tickets were that they get demagnetized very easily. Since they’re so small, it felt inconvenient to have to pull out my wallet every time, so I kept it in my pants pocket with keys and coins. The ticket got demagnetized twice during the five days, and I had to have it replaced at a station each time. The first time, the staff was kind of nice about it. The second time, the staff (at another station) was yelling at me in French, and when I had a blank look, she pulled out some coins and clinked them together to illustrate that the ticket got demagnetized because of rubbing coins. I also heard “clés” uttered so I figured it’s coins and keys. And when the staff replaced the ticket, they had to report it on a form in a binder and staple the ticket to the form, along with all the other malfunctioning tickets.
Note: the Paris Visite ticket could be used for the short shuttle ride up to Sacré-Cœur.
Other than the Metro, I mostly walked. I took a taxi after a night out at the bars with a fellow hostel mate.
Time of year: Late October.
My body composition: 29 years old, 160-ish pounds, 6 feet tall, prefers high 70s/low 80s, primarily sweats during exercise only.
Cool when it’s cloudy. Warm when it’s sunny. Long sleeves and layers are recommended
Chilly once the sun went down.
It sprinkled a few times during the few times.
I had heard so much about the French people being rude. I could see why people say that, but from my brief experience, I think the reputation was misunderstood.
Generally, the people were fine. Yes, I had a few incidences where I received some less-than-pleasant interactions. But I also experienced really friendly customer service. That mix is more or less the same everywhere, including Cuzco, South Africa, and Beijing.
I think what Americans regard as rude was just honesty and straight-forwardedness. Americans’ high level of customer service seemed to be a luxury around the world. It’s true in Peru, it’s true in South Africa, it’s true in Beijing, and it’s true in Paris.
To be fair, I’m a little biased by my half-life fantasy to visit Paris and France, so I may have given the French a bit of slack and lowered my expectations based on what people said. Still, I think my impression and outlook are still valid: be nice and treat people with respect, and you’re more likely to receive the same.
I started learning French in freshman year of high school and continued for all four years. I also took one semester of it in college but was too committed in my major to continue. Still, I was always fascinated with the language and kept up with what I knew over the years and tried to learn more when I could.
Even though I still lacked enough vocabulary and confidence like the other languages I learned for the trip for me to carry a conversation, I felt that I had greater expectations for French since I knew it the most, except for maybe reading Chinese. But for the most part, I spoke English there, and most people would be either fine communicating in English or would make an effort to.
I still said short phrases like I would for the other languages, like “Bonjour.”, “Excusez-moi.”, “Merci beaucoup.”, and “Au revoir.” But whenever I did try to say something longer in French, I would get a response in French but I couldn’t understand it. So I would have a blank face, and they would pause and try to repeat in English, rendering my attempt to communicate in French practically useless.
The one time that I actually had a “conversation” was outside of the Musée d’Orsay when a man just started asking me in English if I was Japanese or Korean, and I responded, “chinois”. He was a little surprised and impressed that I spoke French, and he continued to ask me things in French. I forgot what else he asked, but it was probably along the lines of where I was from and how long I was in Paris. He did compliment me at the end that my French was good, and I thanked him. Conversation success!
I loved the Eiffel Tower. I visited it every day I was in Paris. I must warn those reading this that this will probably increase your expectations about it, so for your enjoyment, please lower your expectations back down. At the end of the day, even I agree that it’s just a hunk of metal.
Eiffel Tower Visit 1: 24 October 2014
Soon after I checked in to my hostel and settled in, I decided I had to see the Eiffel Tower that day, even though it was getting late and sort of drizzling. I figured out which train to take and made my way there from Gare du Nord.
As I was getting close and a few stops away, I was debating whether to look out the train windows to get my first glimpse at it as soon as possible, no matter how small, or save my first look until the perfect moment. I sort of did this with the Freedom Tower in New York when I rode in on Amtrak, as a symbolic moment that I had really arrived in New York. My answer was sort of a combination of both, where I inadvertently saw the top third peeking out between two buildings. Seeing the small sliver of it actually added to the anticipation of finally seeing the thing in its entirety.
After getting off at Bir-Hakeim station, there was still a decent walk to the area around the Tower. Even during that walk, I could see it in glimpses, getting larger and taller. Once I got close enough, I couldn’t stop turning my head every second while walking down a parallel street. The weather was cloudy so the first time I saw the Tower in its full height was a bit anti-climatic and less powerful than I had expected. Still, I continued to walk down the Champ de Mars stretch farther from the Tower to get a good full-height photo. I took my selfies and daily video recordings as the drizzle started to become more like rain, prompting me to head back.
Eiffel Tower Visit 2: 25 October 2014
I saw somewhere in the hostel promoting skip-the-line tickets for the Eiffel Tower, among other tours. So I asked reception about it and decided to book a spot for that day, within a few hours actually. I originally wanted to go the following day so I had some time to check out the city and got a lay of the land before I headed to the top of the tower. But the opportunity was there and I took it.
The staff took care of the reservation on the phone, asking just a few pieces of my invitation to complete the process. I paid for the reservation and got a printed receipt with instructions for meeting up.
Since I had a bit of time, I got off at Pont de l’Alma station and took the scenic route and strolled down the Seine before turning at Avenue de la Bourdonnais, but even that street was nice to walk down as well. I could see the Eiffel Tower peek out and be framed perfectly between the buildings separated by the crossroads.
I checked in at the Easy Pass Tours office, which was a nice little modern-looking space. I was given a plastic tag for my tour and was told I could wait at the benches in the back, and that we could use the free Wi-Fi. I had to use the restroom, and they directed me downstairs in the basement. It was bit of a narrow space on the floor below, but the bathrooms were fine to use. Waiting at the benches, I connected to the Wi-Fi and the speed was pretty good.
After more people joined me on the benches, the “tour” started, where one of the guides welcomed us and collected our tags. I suppose those tags were meant to make sure we were reporting to the right tour, although at the time, it was just one tour, and there were only five of us.
The guide explained the process, but I didn’t fully understood until afterwards. Basically, he walked us to the Eiffel Tower, gave us our tickets and a cheatsheet of landmarks that could be seen from the top of the tower, led us to the correct (and seemingly exclusive) line, and left us to our own. Before he left, I somehow thought he was going to be with us the whole time. It occurred to me later that this was a Skip-the-Line ticket instead of a full tour. But I was fine being on my own.
I went through security, although I felt that they didn’t bother to check my bag. Before we left the Easy Pass Tours office, the guide mentioned that we could not bring scissors or padlocks. I had a small pair of scissors that I left with the staff, but that probably didn’t actually matter. That’s not to say security wasn’t tight.
There were two levels in the first lift cabin. When we entered the waiting area, there was someone counting people to make sure there was enough space on the lift. Once the bottom waiting area (where I was) was full, visitors started filling the top waiting area above us. The lift moved diagonally, because it was essentially going up the leg of the Eiffel Tower.
This first lift stopped at the first floor and then second floor. There there were signs to move get to the second lift, which took me to the top. I could see there was already a long queue for the second lift, but I somehow ended up in a queue that got me right in one of the lift cabins and headed to the top.
It was a cloudy day, so visibility was moderate. I recognized a few places but Paris had very few large landmarks or landscapes that one would bother to point out. There was a room in the center that apparently was the office of the architect, Gustav Eiffel. It had semi-creepy figures of people from the time, including Eiffel himself. There was also a window that sold glasses of champagne, which was perfect for couples, I suppose.
As much as I’d like to spend more time at the top, there was little else to do. So I went back to the second floor and checked out the gift shops and other stores. I really wanted to get a souvenir but resisted the temptation. I also spent some time on the first floor, trying to find good shots.
By then, I was pretty done with the Tower. I decided to walk downstairs and not have to wait for the lift. On the way down, there were posters illustrating the history of the Tower and how other towers in the world took inspiration, like the Tokyo Tower. I also got to see the intricate and beautiful lattice work inside the tower.
Eiffel Tower Visit 3: 26 October 2014
After buying tickets for the Tour Montparnasse 56 observation deck (see below), I headed to the Jardins du Trocadéro across the Seine from the Eiffel Tower to enjoy my Ladurée macarons (see Food section). It was a sunny late afternoon, and I took some nice photos and videos of the Tower with lovely fountains.
After that, I headed back to Tour Montparnasse and checked out another elevated view of Paris, this time with the Eiffel Tower. I took the advice of the staff and came back just before sunset so I could see the tower in daylight as well as at night. At the top of the hour, the Eiffel Tower shimmered in the distance, continuing to impress me with its beauty.
The Tower shimmered for five minutes at the top of every hour after sunset, until midnight, I think.
Eiffel Tower Visit 4: 27 October 2014
I originally had no plans to visit the Eiffel Tower, because I had already seen it three times and I thought that should be enough. But after my visit to Parc Montsouris (see below), I had some extra time, so I thought, “What the heck?” and went down their again. It was past sunset and getting close to the top of the hour. I knew the roads from the Champs de Mars Metro station to the Eiffel Tower pretty well by now, so I took the shortest route and ran to the base of the tower to catch its shimmer. The shimmer was beautiful from afar, and it was more beautiful up close.
I was glad to have made the last minute decision to come to the Tower and see the lights up close. As I was about to head to the Metro station, I walked past the foot of the tower, looking up at it on my left, feeling its majestic presence, almost as if it was watching over me. At that moment, I felt pure joy. The only other time where I felt that was twenty days prior, when I walked down the field of the park in Albuquerque looking up at the balloons, excited for the trip ahead of me.
I think the Eiffel Tower had that effect on me because of its placement in relation to everything else. There were no other buildings nearby to take its thunder. For at least a mile out, everyone could get a clear view of the Eiffel Tower next to only the sky. From every angle, the tower looked as sturdy, confident, present, and permanent as it could, commanding respect from everyone while also looking over the city.
Eiffel Tower Visit 5: 28 October 2014
On my last day, I figured I should continue my streak and take a look at it one last time. On my way there, I encountered another clipboard scam (see Champs Élysées). I was also a pretty clear target since I already checked out of the hostel so I was carrying my luggage on my back. But this time, I was 100% unfazed, and walked by many of the clipboard holders as if they didn’t exist.
I walked to the Jardin du Trocadero for my final Paris daily video. The fog covered the top of half of the tour, and there were only a few people at the Jardin. While enjoying the view of half of the Eiffel Tower, I ate my croissant.
I crossed the bridge back towards the Eiffel Tower, and I decided that I would allow myself one tiny souvenir of the trip, because it’s the Eiffel Tower. At one end of the bridge was a popup shop selling souvenirs. I picked up a tiny brown Eiffel Tower keychain for a few Euros.
Arc de Triomphe
After the Eiffel Tower, I walked to Arc de Triomphe from the Seine. It was surrounded by a giant traffic circle, and the only way to get there was to go underneath through a tunnel. The tunnel was pretty wide, lined with nice walls with large boards posted along the way that explained the history of the Arc.
There was a long line on one side of the tunnel, and I thought it was to get out of the tunnel to see the Arc up close. But I saw other people kept walking so I walked some more. I saw the line ended at the same opening as where other people were freely getting out. It turned out that the line was to go inside the Arc, whereas the outside was free access.
So I went outside and suddenly became aware of how large the Arc was. It was really wide, really tall, and it had a lot of ornate details at different surfaces, including figures, motifs, and text. From what I could gathered by the engraved texts, it was a memorial of sorts. Other than the sheer size of this structure and the amount of seemingly perfect detail on it, there was little to draw me in. Therefore, after looking around a few times, I left and moved on.
It didn’t occur to me until I got to Paris that Arc de Triomphe was at one end of the Champs Élysées. That made it convenient to go from one famous Paris spot to another.
The Champs Élysées was basically a long strip of big stores and restaurants on both sides. And the sidewalks were crowded with people.
It was mid-afternoon and I had yet to eat lunch, so I was sort of looking at restaurants to see if any of them interested me. But I realized it was a tourist area so I figured all of the restaurants are overpriced and crowded, so I just kept walking aimlessly down the strip for about twenty minutes before I decided to go somewhere else and get some food.
While on the busy sidewalks, I got approached by a young woman with a clipboard asking me if I spoke English. I said yes and she proceeded to show me the paper on the clipboard, which was a form with the words “blind”, “deaf” in the title. I figured it was something she wanted me to sign, since that’s sort of common in the States. But I wasn’t sure what my foreigner signature could achieve. Also, while I wasn’t grumpy from being hungry, I had little patience for stuff like that at the moment. Besides, something about this felt a little bit uncomfortable. So in the split second, I shook my head and started walking away. The woman let out an angry, frustrated sigh and walked away.
After that weird encounter, I moved away from the busy foot traffic to the side of the building to check my phone. An old lady next to me signaled for my attention. At that point, I was very hesitant to interact with anybody because I felt vulnerable. So I turned to the lady, cautious of what she was about to do. She pointed at the young woman with the clipboard and wagged her finger definitively, saying, “No!” I didn’t know what she meant, but I didn’t want to engage and continue the interaction, so I looked at the woman with the clipboard, pretending to acknowledge her message, and looked back down at my phone.
At first, I thought the old woman was scolding me for refusing to help the deaf and blind, and that made me feel bad. In retrospect, and from reading tourist scam stories online, I realized that the old lady was actually advising me “No” to engaging with the scammers. That sort of made me feel bad as well because I kind of ignored her. But overall, it was fine because I avoided becoming a victim of a scam, and I was fortunate to have people watching the backs of tourists like me.
I heard there would be a long line to get in the museum for visitors without a tour, so I woke up early and tried to get there half an hour before opening so I could hear the crowds. But that morning was one of the two times my Metro Pass got demagnetized. The Musée d’Orsay metro station did not seem to have a staffed booth within the turnstiles, so I couldn’t get help because I couldn’t even exit the station. After it took me ten to fifteen minutes to realize this, I hopped on the next train, got help from the staff to reissue my Metro Pass, and got on the train in the other direction back to Musée d’Orsay station.
When I got there, the museum was about to open, and there was already a line formed. Fortunately, it was a relatively small line, and I got inside pretty quickly. It was a bit chilly too so I was glad to step inside.
Tip: For some reason, I was looking for Wi-Fi while waiting in line, and it turned out the museum had free Wi-Fi. I had little use for it at the time, but it was just nice to have. I even got a moderate signal after I left they museum and was hanging out outside.
The security bag check and ticket purchase process was pretty painless, and I got inside pretty quickly.
There were three floors: ground, second, and fifth. I thought it was strange to skip floors like that, but I believe the other floors were offices. I started at the top floor and worked my way down.
The Impressionist gallery was neat because I learned a lot of about it in French class, and there they were in abundance.
A Lost Camera
At the end if the Impressionist collection, I hung out for a bit in the lobby by the giant clock and some sofas. I noticed a digital camera in one of chairs with no one else sitting close enough to it to be theirs. I wondered if I should have waited for someone to claim it before I drop it off at some lost-and-found. I decided to look through the photos to find any identifying information so I can maybe contact them. But all I found were pictures of college students who seemed to be from Berkeley. I felt a bit of hope because they’re so close to San Francisco, but realized there’s still no way to get this back to them.
Fortunately, as I was almost about to drop it off with the staff, I saw a young man who was in many of the photos, walking towards me. I waved at him, with the camera in my hand. He felt relieved, and I felt it, too, through him. He took the camera, stood next to me, and raised his hands aiming the camera at both of us. He said he wanted to have a record of the person who found his camera. For some reason, the camera didn’t work, so he pulled it back and tried to get it working. By that point, the moment had practically passed, so I played it modest and said it’s okay that he didn’t have to do it. He seemed to understand the semi-awkwardness of taking a picture with a stranger he literally just met ten seconds ago, but he did mention that now he was sad he won’t have a record of it.
Looking back, I thought I should have let him take the photo of us to have a record, not at all because I wanted to be remembered as a hero, but because it would’ve been a good story for both of us, and it would’ve been funny to see that picture pop up online somewhere and be reunited somehow.
The (Almost) Rest of the Museum
I made my way down to the second floor as well as the ground floor of the museum, looking at almost every room. Honestly, it was way too much to look at in a few hours. By the end, I “skimmed” the pieces by walking pass them without stopping, almost like scanning down each aisle at a grocery store. Still, I skipped a few sections that I figured I would have little interest in.
One afternoon, somehow I was in the neighborhood of Montparnasse, so I figured I should check out how and where I would get tickets to get to the observation deck. I originally planned to go up the following day because I had other plans, so I wanted to know if I could buy a ticket one day and go up the next day.
It took a few tries to find the ticketing center. Once I found it and went in, I noticed there were very few people there. I asked one of the staff in French if I could buy a ticket today and returned tomorrow. She said no, and went on to explain in French. I semi-understood that, and she could tell, so she paused for a moment and tried to figure out what language I spoke. She somehow figured that I spoke in English, so she explained that I could not go up today and also tomorrow. So I either said something incorrectly in French or she didn’t understand my question.
Then I asked a slightly different question, in English to be clear, whether I could buy a ticket now and come back later. She said of course, so I decided to just do that. She also highly recommended going up fifteen to thirty minutes before sunset, so I did just that.
When I returned later, the place was a little more crowded. There was a line after the ticket counters to wait for the elevator. There were three or four elevators, but only one was for the observation deck. I could see office folk coming out of the other elevators, as it was the end of the work day.
Once I got to the indoor observation floor, the same staff who helped me earlier greeted and directed everyone including me to the right path. She recognized me and asked if I was Japanese. I said Chinese and she very quickly said “Ni Hao” (“hello” in Mandarin). My instinct was that it felt unnatural, and I deduced that she thought I was visiting from China. So I started correcting her, saying I was actually American, but by that point, I was already walking past her along with the other visitors, and she just nodded with a smile.
There were two floors, one inside, and one on the roof. The roof floor had glass panels installed all around, but not completely fencing every inch. That made taking clean photos difficult. Also, there were smudgy hand marks on some of the glass panels. There were large illustrations on each side of the floor pointing out some of the places in the distance, which was useful to a certain extent.
There was a giant circle in the middle of the roof floor for people to sit on. After checking out all sides of the view and took my pictures, I sat down and wrote on my log a little bit. Then when the sunset was getting close, a crowd gathered at once corner, trying to take their perfect sunset photos. I joined them, of course, but realized that my phone could only do so much, so after a few shots, I stepped back from the crowd.
The few minutes after the sunset was also beautiful, as the colors of the sky were more saturated without the strong glare of the sun, and the city still had enough details. After that, most smartphone cameras were too weak to take any more good shots.
But I still stuck around and logged some more on the giant sitting circle under the gradually dimming sky. Suddenly, I heard some noise on one side of the floor, and I realized it was because it was the top of the hour, so the Eiffel Tower had twinkling lights just because. I took shots as well as I can, glad I stuck around for this.
Soon after, the darkness set in along with the cold, so I went downstairs to the indoor observation deck. I hung out there for a while, checking out little displays explaining the history of the tower and whatnot. I also used the deck’s free Wi-Fi to figure out my options for dinner. In the end, I got two chocolate croissants and a chicken sandwich from the Paul bakery at Montparnasse-Bienvenüe Metro station.
Because experience with Skip-the-Lines Eiffel Tower session from Easy Pass Tours was so easy and simple, I decided to do the Louvre tour through them as well. I booked a spot directly from their website, but I did not get an email confirmation. I went to their office and got it sorted out quickly, and the staff was very nice and professional about it. It turned out I misspelled my email address.
Meet Up at Arc De Triomphe du Carrousel
The next day, I took the Metro to the Louvre to meet up with the tour group. For two reasons, I ran late and thought I missed the tour: 1) Once I got off the train at Palais Royal – Musée du Louvre station, I could not for the life of me find the exit to ground level. The regular exit would led passengers straight to the underground mall leading to the Louvre entrance. 2) Once I got to ground level, I couldn’t find where I was supposed to meet my group. The tour confirmation said to meet at the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel, which sort of confused me because I knew it wasn’t the giant Arc de Triopmhe near the Champs Élysées, but my data-less phone could not look in the map where this Arc de Triomphe was. So I had to look at maps and signage in that underground mall to the Louvre for clues. I was getting redirected every which way and the anxiety of missing my tour was adding to the pressure and stress. Finally, I figured out where it was and rejoiced at the site of a person in the distance wearing a red shirt along with a few other people standing around. I checked in with him and we waited for more people past the meet-up time before starting the tour.
The Louvre Tour
When the tour started, the man in red handed us headsets so our guide, Jacque, could speak to us without yelling and without us having to follow really close. I had been in guided tours in the States but without headsets and information inevitably get lost, so I thought this was a neat idea, even though it seemed to be quite a common thing tour did.
We followed Jacque to the entrance, had a bathroom break, was told that was our only one because it was super crowded and it would be hard to stop and wait, went through security and the entrance together because we didn’t have any physical tickets because we were in a tour.
Jacque took us through galleries after galleries of sculptures and paintings, many of which the styles I had learned in school. All the galleries were pretty filled with visitors. I tried to stay close and in front to make the most of the tour, like a teacher’s pet. Jacque was pretty classy and pretty French. He clearly seemed knowledgable about the pieces and their history, and he was unfazed by the crowds. He was a pro and could tolerate the hectic conditions he had to work in presumably every day.
He led us to the Mona Lisa painting and gave us plenty of time to work through the crowd to get the closest possible picture of it. I knew ahead of time that it was a small painting and fenced off a couple feet out, so I didn’t try to get as close as I could and try to admire the painting. I took a selfie from far away and called it done.
He then led us to another painting, the Coronation of Napoleon I. I had seen that painting in a textbook, and the fact that it was humongous really got to me, and I just had to take a selfie with it, even though I had little emotional connection with it previously.
Then we looked at more paintings and sculptures and the tour ended sooner than I thought, although I was getting restless. I continued to check out other galleries throughout the museum, including the apartments of Napoleon III, which was so grand and elaborate that it helped almost transport me to the past to picture how life was like to live in spaces like this, seeing the furnishings as usable pieces instead of preserved museum objects.
More so than Musée d’Orsay, the Louvre was way too large to check out in a few hours, let alone a whole day. There were sections that I simply did not have time or brain power to explore. Next time, I may have to visit with someone else, commit a full day there, with plans to have lunch there as well and take a few breaks in between.
I heard little about Sacré-Cœur before arrive in Paris, but one there, I had heard so many references to it as a major tourist spot, especially for pickpockets. So with a bit of extra time, I paid it a visit.
I got off the Metro train at Abbesses station and went up the seemingly endless spiral, decorated stairs to the exit. Then I walked to the bottom of the steps on Rue Tardieu. I bought a quick snack to go at a convenience store, then I decided to take the little cable car up the hill using my Metro Pass instead of walking up (The spiral steps up Abbesses drained me).
Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of people at the foot of the church, sitting on the steps. I weaved through and tried to get a good view of Paris. I desperately looked for the Eiffel Tower but it was blocked by houses and trees to the right. One of the reasons for going up here was to get a nice panoramic picture with the Eiffel Tower. I probably could have if I went up Sacré-Cœur, but it felt like too much of a hassle, so I began walking down on the west side of the church.
I noticed a little square, Place du Tertre, which had little restaurants and shops around it. I also saw that’s where the Dali Museum was, and I made a mental note to go later, but I forgot.
Continuing the road down from Place du Tertre, I made my way to Boulevard de Clichy, noticing many crêpe shops along the way. But I felt the shops looked too low quality to warrant a try, or that a quick glance at the menu did not include ingredients that I wanted.
Once I got to Boulevard de Clichy, my expectations for the Moulin Rouge strangely but appropriately lowered. Sure enough, I turned the corner, expecting a giant, iconic mesmerizing windmill. What I saw was a short, skinny weathered red silo with skinny wooden frames, sandwiched between two flat, white buildings. This was in the afternoon, so perhaps it was meant to be seen in the nighttime. But the letdown of this view was beyond rescuing that I quickly left the area.
One place I wanted to visit in Paris that was not iconic or wildly famous was Parc Montsouris. It was the location of the final scene in one of the short films in “Paris, je t’aime”. The short film illustrated an American woman’s trip to Paris, overlaid with the audio of her reading out in French (but with an Americanized accent) her experience to her French class. Most of the short film was funny, but in the final scene, where she visited Parc Montsouris to have her sandwich, she had an enlightening experience and fell in love with Paris.
Link to the short film from “Paris, je t’aime” (No longer available? Let me know in the comments.):
I did not necessarily go to this park to have the same experience, but I still wanted to see this place in person and to see what I could get out of it. When I got there, it was already past the time of day from the scene the movie, there were already people sitting on the bench that the character sat on, and it was too cold for anyone sit on the grass like in the scene. But it was late afternoon so the playground was full of children playing, just like the movie. Overall, though, it was far from the movie, but I still documented my visit with photos and videos. Then I stuck around the park and wrote on my log a little bit to savor the moment.
A note about my relationship with food: I am more of a “eat to live” type of guy. In my regular daily life, I try to eat very healthy, and I splurge a little bit once in a while. When I’m traveling, I loosen my restrictions a bit and eat what I can get, while still trying to select the healthiest choice. However, if there is a dish or a food that is well known where I’m traveling, and it’s within my taste preference and budget, I would put in extra effort to try it. And my weakness is desserts.
Croissant, crêpe, crème brûlée, and macarons. The four major French food groups. I had them all. Just kidding. I’m sure there were other French foods more significant than these, but I did have them while in Paris. I may have gotten cheaper versions of these foods, but they were decent at worst.
I had a crêpe from a cafe next to Musée d’Orsay. I learned about crêpes from French class, and I only knew it in the sweet form, with Nutella. I had a big Nutella phase and got so sick of it I didn’t have it for probably ten years. So I thought I should try a savory crêpe and ordered a simple ham, egg and cheese crêpe. It felt pretty mundane. It’s like eating ham, egg and cheese with a bit of thin pancake. Plus, the crêpe was slightly overcooked/too crispy for my taste. I’ll stay with my sweet crêpes, thank you.
I had heard about Ladurée’s macarons being really good, so I scoped it out one day when I was near Musée d’Orsay. When I went inside, I was a bit intimidated because the place looked really fancy, there was a line, and the anticipation of me being next gave me anxiety that I had to speak in French to get my order. I stumbled a little bit with my French, quickly revealing that I was American, but the lady helping me was nice about it while I tried to decide which of the many choices I wanted to get.
I got six macarons, all different kinds. I had macarons before and felt the hard-soft texture unusual. I thought it was because they were lower quality so I figure that the macarons from Ladurée, a popular and seemingly really fancy and therefore presumably high quality place, would be better. They were a little better, yes, but the texture still weirded me a little. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the raspberry flavor one, as it had the right balance between tart and sweet.
I got a plain croissant at a local bakery near the hostel and chocolate croissants from Paul Bakery at Montparnasse-Bienvenüe Metro station. They were both decent. It’s hard (though not impossible) to mess up croissants. More or less unremarkable.
I assumed that nice crème brûlées were served in restaurants, and I had little intention to go to a restaurant just to get crème brûlée. So I got it in a grocery store, because why not? I was in France, and they sold crème brûlées in grocery stores! I had to try it. I tried it once, and that was enough. It was basically a glass jar of custard that I poured burned sugar crystals over to simulate the cracked texture. It was a little bit sad. The taste was fine; it’s just so far removed from a proper crème brûlée.
I got some snack foods from grocery stores that I couldn’t get elsewhere. I got chocolate covered marshmallows because I heard it was a thing. The first ten to fifteen pieces were good, but I had to finish the bag and I got a little sick of it near the end.
I came to love the grocery chain Carrefour and Carrefour City. They were probably the most equivalent to local American grocery stores, where they had a good enough selection, and the consistent branding promised a certain level of trustworthiness.
After passing by a Middle Eastern fast food shop to and from the hostel every day, I gave it a try and got a schwarma. It was decent, a little filling, though a little bready.
While waiting for my first Metro ride, I got a glazed waffle from a vending machine because it was so unique. It had a light sugary glaze, but the rest just tasted like almost-stale waffle.
I took the Metro to Gare d’Austerlitz near the inner east side of Paris, then walked across the Pont Charles de Gaulle bridge to get to Paris-Gare de Lyon station for my SNCF train to Nice.
For some reason I assumed the Metro station was connected to Paris-Gare de Lyon train station, as most major stations should, but all the closest Metro stations to Paris-Gare de Lyon were a couple blocks away.
Paris-Gare de Lyon was a medium-sized station, with a few train lines, a few stores at platform level, and a few stores under the platform, half occupied and half vacant. Even though I was “inside” the station, it was exposed to the outside so it was kind of chilly.
From My Travel Log
26 October 2014, 10:30am, Paris, Musée d’Orsay, Impressionist Floor
Impressionist art: so light and uplifting. Maybe that painted a rosy picture (no pun intended) of Paris and France from when I was in high school.
The progression in style throughout the years is like thickening the pixel of a digital image. But then again, all paintings are only representations of other things; they’re only oil molecules, atoms, neutrons and protons and electrons. What matters is what is left: how it makes us feel.
Still trying to think that Parisians and French aren’t rude, just direct. Their looks are very direct as well.
26 October 2014, 12:30pm, Le Royal Orsay (next to Musée d’Orsay)
Just ordered a crepe all in French! But I pointed at the menu.
Pointilism takes that expanding pixel idea to an other level/methodical calculations.
Someone from the States, maybe USC and Berkeley, left their camera at the fancy sofas outside of Impressionism floor (when I wrote last entry). I asked myself what I would do if I had lost it. I tried to look if there’s a way to get the camera back to owner by looking at pictures, but there’s no contact info. I would have dropped it off at the gift shop and left a note on the sofa to go to gift shop.
26 October 2014, 5:43pm, Paris, top of Montparnasse Tower
Just watched sunset from top of tower. Some couples are drinking champagnes, more are taking pics and kissing. Paris is a city of love because people want it to be a city of love. The sunset is romantic because it makes us feel romantic; otherwise it’s an illusion of a star’s position relative to a rotating planet at a particular point, with the atmosphere of the point on the planet changing the hue of the sky that looks different from most of the daytime sky. I’m not being cynical. It’s just my current reality. I wish I was with somebody and have those feelings where it naturally makes me have public displays of affection, a desire to capture moments together during sunset, when on holidays, or whatever else. I hope the next time I come back, I will be with somebody I really love and live out that fantasy.
Twice today, I talked to someone in French and I was asked if I was Japanese or Korean. Then I told them Chinese. It caught me by surprise but now I think people are impressed with whatever French I know and want to know where I’m from. But I realize now that when I tell them Chinese, they’ll assume I’m from China. So next time that happens, if it happens, I need to add that I’m from the States.
Today: took train to Musée d’Orsay, but ticket demagnetized. I tried to speak French to get help, and it seems to lead to (obviously) responses in French, which led to me to look flustered and forces the other to speak English. I consider it progress. Then had a savory crepe. Walked down Seine, went to Ladurée. Went to Eiffel Tower, got Louvre tour sorted out, and inadvertent discount even though it’s my fault.
26 October 2014, 7:20pm, Paris, Metro #4 towards hostel
Then went to get Eiffel Tower sticker, walked across bridge to see other side of Eiffel Tower. Took more pics. Ate macaroons. Love strawberries/raspberries flavor. Walked to Passy station to head to Montparnasse. Went up tower. Took more shot. Took sunset shots. Wrote in notebook. Watched Eiffel Tower in blinking lights at 6pm. Then went to 56th floor to look for supermarket or food places. Then went to Montparnasse station to buy sandwich and pastries. Now on train back and prob won’t go out and clean up my luggage or something.
A week ago Sunday 10/19: Just arrived in Tromsø after JNB -> FRA, FRA ->OSL, OSL -> TRS, 19 hours of traveling. Europe for first time.
27 October 2014, 4:51pm, Paris, Montsouris
At the place where Carol from Paris Je T’aime were in last scene. The bench was taken and the sun went lower than from the movie. The setting is pretty similar otherwise.
I can’t fall in love with Paris like this, not in this moment, not when there’s a small chill in the air, when the sun’s already behind the trees. The scene was just that: a scene, from a movie.
That said, there are a few moments where I really enjoyed being in Paris. When I walked right by the Eiffel Tower on the way to Easy Pass Tours and felt the presence of the Tower over me, taking me in and sort of my breath away. When I walked the small streets of Le Marais two days ago and Montmartre this afternoon. It just reminds me of Macau, except bigger and more enjoyable with seemingly relevant shops.
I am torn about Paris. There are likable parts for sure, but there are part I just prefer not to have, like the grittiness of the subway, although I don’t mind that of NYC for some reason. I can’t stand the spontaneous waft of piss or worse when I walk up or down stairs or in an alley. Other things I can probably get used to. And if I can choose, I would live in le Marais, although I haven’t fully explored the non-tourist parts of Paris yet.
I do love that almost everyone dresses so nicely. I am for sure bringing that back with me home, although people in SF are so laid back.
I could totally get used to speaking in French as I learn more.
San Francisco is still home, the comfortable, practical, enjoyable, makes perfect sense, choice. I have to spend more time myself in Sydney to see if I really like it. It’s nawing at my consciousness to go back so I’ve got to do it.
30 October 2014, 9:37pm, France, outside of Nice, on train to Ventimiglia
I haven’t mentioned this on the log, but I’ve said it a few times to others. But ever since arriving in Paris, I felt very tired of traveling and want to go home. But knowing that there’s a whole other half of the trip I haven’t been to and haven’t done was enough to snap me out of that thinking and continue. I still feel tired but I’m not going to let that stop my trippy. It’s just too silly.
23 November 2014, 11:17pm, SF Home, bed
I also met up with Mike, Danny and friends for meals and catch up. I ate an open-face sandwich in honor of my smørbrød in Norway. I had a macaron for Paris. Got some almond milk ice cream; it’s alright.
Flavia and Bachira, Assam, my dormmates
Cody, 19-year-old Midwest student I met at hostel
Montparnasse girl (who helped me out with tour ticket and said “Ni Hao” (hello in Mandarin) when I came back.)
Musée d’Orsay camera guy (who lost camera momentarily)
Musée d’Orsay random French guy who was impressed with my French
Ladurée lady who tried to explain the small box of macarons situation
The staff at Tata Burger
The guide who brought us toe Skip-the-Lines Eiffel Tower entrance at Easy Pass Tours
Felix from Easy Pass Tours
Steve and Jacque from the Louvre Tour
Bartenders at Belushi’s (at the hostel)
Two ladies from Metro staff who helped me and yelled at me for demagnetizing my Metropass.
Korean guy and Spanish couple who helped me take a photo on other side of Eiffel Tower
If you are even slightly crunched for time, I recommend getting a Skip-the-Line ticket to go up the Eiffel Tower. I also recommend booking a tour for the Louvre to avoid the lines and to get someone explain the artwork. Afterwards, you’re free to roam around the museum as long as you don’t exit, since you don’t get a ticket for being in a tour.
Go up Tour Montparnasse, the only skyscraper in Paris, about 30-45 minutes before sunset, check out the views while it’s light out, watch the sunset, then watch the Eiffel Tower shimmer at the top of the hour (for five minutes).
If you get a multi-day Metro pass, make sure you don’t keep the ticket next to coins or keys; they get demagnitized very easily.
The restroom at the ground/commerical floors of Montparnasse station charge a small fee and were staffed. Even then, there’s a line, especially for the ladies side. To be honest, for a paid service, the experience could be better.
Avoid people with clipboards. They’re most likely scammers. They’ll probably lead with asking if you speak English.