Paris le 1er
I arrived at Gare Du Nord, just north of the city after 8pm on the 30th of June. After a quick acclimatization of the metro I'm successfully riding the rails, and enroute to the hostel. I'm staying at the 3 ducks hostel, and the first thing you notice is that the check-in/out desk is actually also the bar. The bartender/front desk clerk checks me in, I open the door to my smelly 4 bunk room and deeply exhale. I decide to head out and explore some of the neighbourhood around the hostel.
The first thing that I visually soak up, are the tiny streets, pepppered with tons of little bistros and closed up shops. The night is cool as I stroll out 5-10 minutes in each direction using the hostel as a central hub (no bread crumbs, no map, and a poor sensee of direction require this tethered method of exploration). I find a small asian restaurant and grab something to eat. I return back to a somewhat lively bar (err I mean hostel), order a pint, sit out in the back terrace and proceed to plan the next days adventure. It's getting late and I'm getting sleepy, so I retire to my bunk and meet my first roomie. He was from Korea, had already been in Paris for about 4 days, and you should have seen his eyes light up like christmas tree decorations when I told him that I had spent time in his hometown of Daegu. We chat for a bit and swap travel tips, then its time to sleep.
Or so I thought. I had read the reviews of this hostel, and lately saw lots of complaints about the noise factor. As I said the bar is not 15 feet from our room, and of course people get rowdier and rowdier as their blood-alcohol level rises. Worse still, the Metro rumbles past about every 5 minutes until midnight, so the bed and walls bellow as this happens. The end result is a very sleepless first night in Paris.
Day 2, I get up early to make sure I'm ready for the free breakfast at 8am, only to find it consits of a pre-sliced half a baguette, serve yourself jam & butter, and exactly 1 cup of orange juice (don't even think about motioning for a second cup... the staff will make sure that that ain't happening).
The hostel is close to the Eiffel tower, so I head out in that direction on foot. Starting with L'ecole miliataire and the Champ De Mars, I leisurely stroll along, edging closer and closer to the tower.
I get a good look at it from the ground, and well it looks exactly as you would picture it looking. Thousands of criss-crossing 45 degree lines, people on foot and in elevators at various hights of the tower, and overcast skies in the background set the scene. I had planned on going up at least to the first floor, thinking it was gratuite, but if they make you pay .40 euros to use a public toilet, you can bet they are going to charge you for the privelege of burning calories and seeing the view. Since I'll soon be a starving student, and am trying to complete this trip on a budget, I instead decide to walk under the tower and think about what the view would look like instead... not bad!
From there, I spend some time in amongst the water and statues at the Jardin Troquadero, and make a b-line for the world's largest roundabout and the arc du triomphe.
The drivers here are just as crazy as you'd think, and I'm shocked to not witness at least one car crash while standing around the arc. Again I opt to not pay the 5 euro fee to go stand in the middle of the roundabout, so I stroll down the Champs Elysses instead. It's very tourist filled, so along with that are the overpriced postcards and tacky merchandise. I make my way up to the Palais du Congress, and stop for a rest in the Jardin Du Carousel. The garden is lush and statue filled, and laying about are some real comfy seats that I decide to park myself in. About 15 minutes later, the skies open up and I'm forced to postpone my Hemmingway Cafe afternoon adventure. Instead, I opt for a celinged adventure, indoors at the Museee D'Orsay.
I walk along the river Seine, and soak up the surrounding architecutre.
Its mostly off white buildings, with navy roof highlights and white pigeon dropping accents. Inside the museum, I'm amazed by the quality of the work, and walk around pretending that I have a clue about each authour's work. I make sure to check out all the big name pieces, like Rodin's gates of hell sculpture (his best work in my opinion), the birth of Venus, Van Gogh's self-portrait and starry night. Lots of cool Renoir, heaps of Monet, a Matisse painting I've never seen before, and some humongous frescos that are easily 30 feet high, and mostly religeous in subject matter.
I leave the musem feeling mentally satiated, but gastronomically undernourished. I Pick up a couple of Merguez sausages at a Kebab house on my way back to the hostel, and try and grab a nap for an hour.
I get up and begin to mingle with my fellow budget travellers in the bar. I meet a couple of Californian's named Mirren and Matt, and we make plans to hit the city that night. An Aussie named Mike joins up, and we're off on the Metro to Bastille station (where one local informs us that the drinking is good). On the train, this crazy woman instantly begins berating Matt and Mirren (and Mike and I by default), for being American. I don't say anything, though I understood most of what she said, and we laugh it off and continue on to our intended destination.
We find a cafe, order a couple of rounds, and with my tongue loosened a bit by the booze, I decide to test my french competency, chatting with one of the locals. I'm actually surprised at how well I'm holding my own, and the local actually compliments me on my french. I become the designated translator between my tourist friends and the locals we meet. One guy I chat with is from the neighbourhood, sells and repairs motorcycles, and cites the Police, the Rolling Stones, and... Scorpions ?!? amonst his favourite bands. The bar is closing so we head over to a 24hour grocery store for some cheap wine (2.90 euros!) and drink on the metro, on our way back to the hostel. Normally we aren't supposed to bring outside liquor into the hostel, but we bribe the bartender with tips, and he lets us drink it out on the terrace.
I finish the wine while chatting with a group of girls from the netherlands, who are in town for Live 8 which takes place the next day. We all sit around chatting until about 4am (which is probably the time I would've fallen asleep anyway given the noise), then I get to bed and crash.
Not a bad first full day!
The first thing that I visually soak up, are the tiny streets, pepppered with tons of little bistros and closed up shops. The night is cool as I stroll out 5-10 minutes in each direction using the hostel as a central hub (no bread crumbs, no map, and a poor sensee of direction require this tethered method of exploration). I find a small asian restaurant and grab something to eat. I return back to a somewhat lively bar (err I mean hostel), order a pint, sit out in the back terrace and proceed to plan the next days adventure. It's getting late and I'm getting sleepy, so I retire to my bunk and meet my first roomie. He was from Korea, had already been in Paris for about 4 days, and you should have seen his eyes light up like christmas tree decorations when I told him that I had spent time in his hometown of Daegu. We chat for a bit and swap travel tips, then its time to sleep.
Or so I thought. I had read the reviews of this hostel, and lately saw lots of complaints about the noise factor. As I said the bar is not 15 feet from our room, and of course people get rowdier and rowdier as their blood-alcohol level rises. Worse still, the Metro rumbles past about every 5 minutes until midnight, so the bed and walls bellow as this happens. The end result is a very sleepless first night in Paris.
Day 2, I get up early to make sure I'm ready for the free breakfast at 8am, only to find it consits of a pre-sliced half a baguette, serve yourself jam & butter, and exactly 1 cup of orange juice (don't even think about motioning for a second cup... the staff will make sure that that ain't happening).
The hostel is close to the Eiffel tower, so I head out in that direction on foot. Starting with L'ecole miliataire and the Champ De Mars, I leisurely stroll along, edging closer and closer to the tower.
I get a good look at it from the ground, and well it looks exactly as you would picture it looking. Thousands of criss-crossing 45 degree lines, people on foot and in elevators at various hights of the tower, and overcast skies in the background set the scene. I had planned on going up at least to the first floor, thinking it was gratuite, but if they make you pay .40 euros to use a public toilet, you can bet they are going to charge you for the privelege of burning calories and seeing the view. Since I'll soon be a starving student, and am trying to complete this trip on a budget, I instead decide to walk under the tower and think about what the view would look like instead... not bad!
From there, I spend some time in amongst the water and statues at the Jardin Troquadero, and make a b-line for the world's largest roundabout and the arc du triomphe.
The drivers here are just as crazy as you'd think, and I'm shocked to not witness at least one car crash while standing around the arc. Again I opt to not pay the 5 euro fee to go stand in the middle of the roundabout, so I stroll down the Champs Elysses instead. It's very tourist filled, so along with that are the overpriced postcards and tacky merchandise. I make my way up to the Palais du Congress, and stop for a rest in the Jardin Du Carousel. The garden is lush and statue filled, and laying about are some real comfy seats that I decide to park myself in. About 15 minutes later, the skies open up and I'm forced to postpone my Hemmingway Cafe afternoon adventure. Instead, I opt for a celinged adventure, indoors at the Museee D'Orsay.
I walk along the river Seine, and soak up the surrounding architecutre.
Its mostly off white buildings, with navy roof highlights and white pigeon dropping accents. Inside the museum, I'm amazed by the quality of the work, and walk around pretending that I have a clue about each authour's work. I make sure to check out all the big name pieces, like Rodin's gates of hell sculpture (his best work in my opinion), the birth of Venus, Van Gogh's self-portrait and starry night. Lots of cool Renoir, heaps of Monet, a Matisse painting I've never seen before, and some humongous frescos that are easily 30 feet high, and mostly religeous in subject matter.
I leave the musem feeling mentally satiated, but gastronomically undernourished. I Pick up a couple of Merguez sausages at a Kebab house on my way back to the hostel, and try and grab a nap for an hour.
I get up and begin to mingle with my fellow budget travellers in the bar. I meet a couple of Californian's named Mirren and Matt, and we make plans to hit the city that night. An Aussie named Mike joins up, and we're off on the Metro to Bastille station (where one local informs us that the drinking is good). On the train, this crazy woman instantly begins berating Matt and Mirren (and Mike and I by default), for being American. I don't say anything, though I understood most of what she said, and we laugh it off and continue on to our intended destination.
We find a cafe, order a couple of rounds, and with my tongue loosened a bit by the booze, I decide to test my french competency, chatting with one of the locals. I'm actually surprised at how well I'm holding my own, and the local actually compliments me on my french. I become the designated translator between my tourist friends and the locals we meet. One guy I chat with is from the neighbourhood, sells and repairs motorcycles, and cites the Police, the Rolling Stones, and... Scorpions ?!? amonst his favourite bands. The bar is closing so we head over to a 24hour grocery store for some cheap wine (2.90 euros!) and drink on the metro, on our way back to the hostel. Normally we aren't supposed to bring outside liquor into the hostel, but we bribe the bartender with tips, and he lets us drink it out on the terrace.
I finish the wine while chatting with a group of girls from the netherlands, who are in town for Live 8 which takes place the next day. We all sit around chatting until about 4am (which is probably the time I would've fallen asleep anyway given the noise), then I get to bed and crash.
Not a bad first full day!
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