CLibra’s Blog

The morning we left was cold and gray. A normal coach journey took place, with a relatively uneventful ferry crossing. Yet more hours across France in a coach succeeded in tiring us all out sufficiently, and by nightfall, we were only just in the suburbs of Paris. The joys of the Boulevard Périphérique delayed our arrival at the centre by about quarante-cinq minutes, upon which we promptly deposited our luggage in the “bagagerie” and headed to the cantine for a quick supper.

A short walk brought us to an underground bowling alley, which served as our evening entertainment, but it was very late by the time we got back to the centre. A representative gave us a quick briefing about how the place worked, and that’s when I really got to appreciate the design of the hostel; shaped windows, large sculptures, plastic furniture, there was an ultra-modern feel about this place, and the visual impact was quite something. I was in a five-person room on the top floor with my friends, so we took the lift up and went straight to bed.

The next morning was an early start, as to avoid traffic. After breakfast in the centre, we head off for the Eiffel Tower. The weather had caught all of us by surprise – it resembled the transition between summer & autumn, a chilly kind of warmth that made the whole day really pleasant. The ascent up the tower was rapid, and the view of Paris, although spectacular, made me feel a bit giddy. Back on the ground, we proceeded to have a picnic at Notre Dame avec the pigeons. Anne-Laure, the stunning French assistant that worked with us last year, met up with us, it was really good to chat to her again; she warned us that a lot of the ‘beggars’ target British tourists to scam money out of them, so when I was approached by a woman giving a sob-story in perfect English, I told her in not very polite French to leave us alone. Our afternoon was spent doing some stylish shopping along the Boulevard Haussman; or rather, we went from floor to floor, surrounded by things we’ve always wanted, but could never afford.

We returned to the centre for our evening meal, and were told that there was a disco at 9PM, which called for a nicer change of clothes. My friends and I took the lift down to the basement of the centre, which was the venue of the disco, but it was just a strobe lit room with EuroPop playing. Nobody was dancing. Slightly disappointed, we all head back to us guys’ room, where we played our own music and just hung out for a few hours, until we were told that we were being a little too loud.

Our third day in France contrast the day before it – instead of the clear blue skies, it was a typical raining November day, but that didn’t stop us. We paid an early morning visit to the Arc de Triomphe – which was a lot bigger than I had ever imagined it – and promenade down the Champs-Élysées. For Lunch, we had another picnic at Montmatre, having deserved it after walking all the steps up to Le Sacre Coeur. The dark clouds and wintry chill simply complimented the beautiful church, which were drawn often by the many artists surrounding us.

From one form art to another, our next destination was the Louvre. Because we were a pre-booked group, we were able to cut the queues, but that meant we couldn’t enter through the pyramid. Having been here once before, I was able to quickly locate my favourite painting: Madonna of the Rocks, by Da Vinci. Although we got (literally) lost amongst the artwork, nobody seemed to mind asking for directions, and we even managed to exit through the pyramid, as we began our trek through the urban jungle to the Pompidou Centre. We got back for dinner early to we could head out to the Seine for a river cruise. Paris is magical at night, and we saw the Eiffel Tower light up with the EU flag. Before heading to bed, Anne-Laure met up with us at the centre, armed with authentic crêpes that she’d baked for us. Yum!

Bit sad to leave on the last day – thought it had all gone too quickly. A lazy trip back to Calais filled with sleeping and chocolate, panic struck at the toilet stop – somebody had lost their passport. We checked the seats, the bags, the luggage hold, we even phoned the centre, and still no sign of it. This made our last two hours in France uneasy, but after confirming his identity at the port with a phone call home, he was allowed to travel back to the UK with us, but he will have to go through a full security check soon, to get a new passport. The boat was a little turbulant on the way back, and we were all very tired, but we managed to have some moments of laughter. Yet more sleeping on the coach when we arrived in England, getting back home in the evening.

Paris was awesome. J’y voudrais retourner!