Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping…

…into the future. Not only is time slipping away without my having posted about even the first day of my trip, I started a post yesterday and the draft was eaten by the cyber-monsters that lurk in the bowels of the Internet. Now I have to start over.

So, I arrived in Paris at about 2:35PM local time. This is the way to do international travel! Getting there in the afternoon is MUCH easier on the body than arriving in the early hours. I missed the first bus from de Gaulle, owing to the fact that I needed to purchase a ticket. Thank goodness I kept 20€ from my previous trip–didn’t have to search for an ATM upon arrival. I caught the next bus and probably got into Paris proper around 3:30-3:45PM. The bus dropped me off at Place de l’Opéra, and it took me a bit to find the street I needed to be on. Once found, it was a very short distance to the Passage Jouffroy, even though the entrance is unobtrusive enough that I passed it by the first go. I entered the passage and walked to the end to find my destination, the Hotel Chopin. I’d read about it in EuroCheapo, a website devoted to helping people enjoy Europe inexpensively. It turned out to be a lovely family-run hotel, no-frills, but clean and friendly. I dropped off my baggage and set out to explore the quarter. This was the area in which I was to live for the month of July while I took my class at l’Alliance Française.

I headed out of the hotel and out the other end of the passage onto rue de la Grange Batalière. The afternoon sunlight poured gently down–warm enough to go without a sweater, but cool enough not to sweat. I turned left onto the rue du Faubourg Montmartre, and discovered A La Mère de Famille just a block away. This venerable sweet shop has been in business in Paris since 1761. Nothing really turned my head as I passed by, so I didn’t go in. I had dinner at some bistrot or other; didn’t keep the name. I was drinking in the atmosphere of the city and not paying close attention to details.

I knew I had to be at the Gare du Nord early the following morning to catch the Eurostar to Bath, England, where my friend Louise was throwing a party to celebrate her 50th birthday, so I didn’t stay out late. Even though the train station is within a reasonable walking distance from the hotel, I didn’t yet know my way around enough to guarantee I wouldn’t get lost along the way, so I arranged for a taxi pick up. I spent a restful night in my small chamber, equipped with a tiny shower and washbasin and a single bed. The window looked out over the passage, and there was virtually no noise. No air-conditioning, but the weather was mild enough to leave the window open for comfort. I slept well, got up the next morning, ate breakfast at the hotel (8€) as it was too early for the cafés to open, then made my way to the Gare du Nord. Next up — Bath and beyond.

Technology glitches abroad

Sigh. Yes, I spent the month of July in beautiful Paris, but due to the fact that I couldn’t connect my tablet to Wi-Fi anywhere, I did not update my blog while I was there. I do have the WordPress app on my phone, but again, trying to connect to Wi-Fi was a huge problem–it was spotty at best and non-existent most of the time. And then I came home and went back to work almost immediately, and it’s been catch-up ever since. I’ll start to post my experiences within the next few days–who knew that writing could be so difficult? Words do not flow automatically from my brain, and I haven’t had enough energy to concentrate to do a proper update. I wish my thoughts could be translated to written words as they float through my consciousness…

What am I thinking?

July in Paris, really? The fête nationale de l’indépendance (or Bastille Day to you) is on the 14th and the Tour de France winds up in the city on the 27th. Part of me is really excited to be a part of the independence day celebrations of a different country, to compare with those of my own. Part of me is screaming bloody murder about the size of the crowds that will swell the streets. Especially at the Champs de Mars, where I would like to take in the fireworks. It’s akin to being in Washington, DC over the 4th of July, an event I’ve experienced once and hope to never again. Just the thought of the crowds brings the claustrophobia a bit to bear. Hopefully I will have found someone to go with, either through my classes, or with someone from a Meet-Up or Couchsurfing group. And on the 27th I’ll just completely avoid the Champs Elysées. I will prevail.

Terrified.

Okay, I admit it. I’m a little terrified of being in Paris all alone. I’ve read about the pickpockets on the métro and the scams along the Sacré Cœur. I’m scared of being a target–a single, overweight, middle-aged woman alone in a big, big city. I know enough not to dress like a tourist, and to look around me as I walk, but deep down inside my reptilian brain I’m afraid of having something happen over which I have no control. I have nightmares about falling and hitting my head on the pavement; I have actually fallen for no reason a few times (once on the streets of DC) and the experience isn’t pleasant. The thought of being incapacitated, for whatever reason, in a foreign country is simply petrifying. I know my fears are probably unfounded, but they keep nagging at the back of my head. I have a history of walking “tête en l’air,” too, which doesn’t add to my confidence. I’m scared of not finding a place to sit down if I get tired. I’m scared of getting totally lost in a questionable area of town. I’m scared of not having enough cash if my credit card is denied. I worry about not getting a chance to do all the things I want to do while I’m there. I worry about having a terrible meal in a city of fabulous restaurants. I worry about planning too much, or not planning enough.

The die is cast, however. Les jeux sont faits. I leave for Paris in about seven weeks — school gets out June 13th, and I’ll have the time between then and the 24th to fine-tune my strategies. A little judicious concern will keep me safe, but fretting too much is not conducive to maximizing my trip experience. I need to find that delicate balance between abject terror and blind self-assurance. With any luck, I should be just fine.

Fifty-five days to check in…

Fifty-five more days until I can check in for my flights to Europe. I’m not counting at all.

Planning, planning

Things are getting real. I’ve got my plane tickets, my train tickets to Bath and Brussels, and excitement is building. I’ve sent a letter to my friend in Chartres asking if I can come visit her, and I’m planning on at least two excursions–one to the beaches of Normandy and one to the châteaux of the Loire. It’s the 70th anniversary of D-Day, and while I won’t be there on the actual June date, I’ll be going when things are still in full swing. I hope we never forget our Greatest Generation; their sacrifice helped end a horrific war.

I’m also thinking about spending a weekend in Angers, where I lived for a year in my twenties. I can get a cheap hotel room in the city center and then just spend the days wandering around visiting old haunts. Jeez, it’s been so long ago that I hope I remember all of them. One, at least, springs to mind immediately: the Bar du Centre. They made the best gallettes and crèpes, and I would go there at the beginning of each month when my check came in. At least I think it was called the Bar du Centre. I just did a quick Internet search and I’m not sure if it’s the same place or not. My memories are a little fuzzy to say the least. But the Hotel du Centre that I remember is still there, and it’s still as much of a flea bag now as it was in the ’80s. I’m of a mixed mind between planning too much and not planning enough. It takes time to plan, and I have to work and take care of my family along with the planning. But I think I’d rather underplan than over-plan and keep a little time for serendipitous exploration.

I got a new book…

…it’s called The French Cat. A woman traveled all over France and in Paris, photographing cats both wild and domestic in their home habitats, be it a chateau or a graveyard. I adore cats, and I am so jealous of this woman who got to go into all kinds of “forbidden” places all in the name of art. I think I will take a camera with me wherever I go in Paris, and ask to take photos of the random cats I see. Maybe it will get me entrée into places that are usually off limits to the average tourist; since I have the luxury of being there for a month maybe I don’t qualify as an average tourist, more of a temporary resident. 🙂

Obssession

Oh, jeez. I am obssessing about Paris. I think about it during the day. I dream about it at night. I’m starting to dream in French again. My Pinterest board for Paris just hit 1,700 pins, and I spend far too much time on Trip Advisor and Yelp looking up restaurants, patisseries, flower shops, etc. and bookmarking them. I think I now have more than enough places to eat on my list than I will have time to visit. Not to mention the serendipitious places I hope to stumble across once I’m actually in the city. I’m also hoping I find places to eat that are cheaper than the ones I’ve researched; I know Paris is expensive, but the charges at some of these restaurants is patently ridiculous for those of us who toil for a living. I do plan on taking advantage of the open air markets, though, and preparing a goodly number of meals chez moi.

I’m also hoping the flood situation improves in Great Britain before I’m scheduled to arrive. Travel to Devon and Cornwall is greatly interrupted due to groundwater levels, and is halted altogether in some places. The BBC News says the floodwaters could last for months, and train rails have been completely washed away in Dawlish, Devon. I’m hoping like crazy that things return to some semblance of normal by late June, not only for me but for the homeowners affected by the deluge. Global warming at work, indeed.

Aside from dreaming, I’ve been taking care of a few practical issues as well. The cost of using my cell phone for texting will be too high, so I plan on staying in touch via the free Wi-Fi access points across the city and using Facebook Messenger. I have my proof of insurance document, and I’ve put a reminder in my calendar to notify my credit card company of my travel dates. I’ve noted the location of the American Embassy in Paris, and I’ll be staying with a doctor for heaven’s sake. Barring some great unforeseen tragedy, things are well on their way to being set. I’m ready!

Booked my Eurostar ticket

I’m taking the Eurostar from Paris to London, at a cost of $120 round-trip. Not too shabby. The train from London to Bath Spa is ₤31.50, or around $50. Return to London from Taunton is ₤42, about $68. Ouch. I can’t check fares for my actual dates yet, so maybe prices will go down. I do know which trains I want to take, and I’ve set a calendar reminder to check for trains at the appointed time. Now I just have to get my flights squared away and I’ll be set. At least my travel will be set; I still have to settle my account with the Alliance Française and finish paying for my apartment. But with every day that passes, I’m getting that tingling feeling of anticipation.

Thinking about Paris

I can’t stop thinking about my upcoming trip, even though it’s months and months away. I’ve been reading everything I can lay my hands on that has anything to do with Paris; books, blogs, maps, newspapers, restaurant guides, you name it. I’ve started to dream in French as well, although that’s a frustrating effort–even in my dreams I know I can’t communicate as well as I’d like to. I yearn for the day I can watch a French movie and not need the subtitles; right now, the best I can say is that I know there is sometimes a huge difference between what is said on screen and what is translated below. I’ve been reading L’Express on my phone app, but I feel like I still need a dictionary to understand all the words. Rats.