Paris: (Gypsy)- Do you speak English, read this…

We awoke Thursday morning in time to get to the train station about 45minutes early for our 5:30am trip to Paris (we were told to make sure we got there 30mins in advance). While going through security, everything went smoothly until Alex got “randomly” searched for half an hour. Apparently his camera lenses are closely related to bombs. The train ride under the English Channel was surprisingly quick and got us to Paris in about 2 and half hours. We arrived to a station, sure enough, that was no longer in English and we putted about until we found the metro station ticket booth. Everything seemed smooth until no credit card would work in the ticket machine. As this fact was weighing heavily upon us, we were approached by a woman.
“Do you speak English?”
“Yes”
“Read this”, slurred a small women.
“Hello I am from Bosnia and my mother has leukemia. I’m pregnant and I have three more kids at home. My right eye doesn’t work and my peg leg is rotting off. My cat’s ears don’t work, and my grandfather’s opium addiction has left his foot toeless. Please Help”
*As accurate as we remember, but maybe an embellishment*
My (Alex) immediate reaction was to give her some change, David read the entire note looked at her and said ehh and shrugged his shoulders. No gypsy would best him. We arrived at the hostel and found it to look like a 19th century house, 5 stories, overlooking a nice square with a McDonalds across the street. The elevator has a limit of 3 people and our room which was said to be on the 3rd floor takes 5 sets of stairs to get to. We also registered for a 4 bedroom mixed room online, but we ended up getting a private 3 bedroom room with our own bathroom. A nice 14inch TV also exists in the room as well. The novelty of a TV has lead to a new past time of watching the 5 French channels we get on the TV and trying to figure out what is the point is. So far we have watched a show that looks like a mix of Scrabble and some crazy mathematics game, as well as a French version of Wheel of Fortune, except all of the letters are spit out and you try to form words. After our infatuation with the hostel room subsided, we went out to explore the area closest to us in Paris. We ventured out to find a recommended “best falafel” restaurant of Paris. It turned out to be an “order at the window” place and the falafel turned out to be amazing. Afterwards, we quit for the day and went back to the hostel to go to sleep.

Day 2: Day 2 was an extravaganza, a marathon if you will. We did another free walking tour, with an English speaking tour guide. Some notable sites were Notre dame de Paris, Eiffel tower, the Louvre, grand palais, arc de triumphe, the obelisk (which is a 3300 year old obelisk with hieroglyphics napoleon stole from the Egyptians), and many other gardens, palaces, and the second most expensive shopping street on the world that had a chocolate fountain in a shop. We walked the stairs of the Eiffel tower after the tour and enjoyed pastries at the first level. The stairs were super-sucky, for lack of a better word. We ended up eating at McDonald’s for dinner. It wasn’t because we were hungry for McDonald’s, or that we were even homesick and wanted some traditional fatty fast food. No, we ate there because it is about 100yards away and we were too lazy to try to scout out a good French restaurant. Also, we knew it would be delicious. Something very noteworthy about the McDonalds of Europe is that they are all very nice, clean, and chic. Also, you can get a beer with your value meal, instead of a soft drink, which I (David) did. The real mayhem started later that night.
First Alex and David go to the corner store to find some beers, which Alex found out to be the “Milwaukee’s Best” of Europe. A wager was put on and David chugged the rancid beer nonstop. This was only the beginning. After we went to the Arab store and searched for some 2.95 euro bottles of wine. Mission accomplished and we enjoyed them (mostly David) in the basement of the hostel, which looks like a dungeon. We met friends there earlier at breakfast and they joined in and before we knew it, 6 bottles of wine and a bottle of Malibu were on the table and the nightshift employee was screaming at us to be quiet. But the night was not done. We wandered aimlessly for about 2 hours around the square republique, (David without a jacket) until we found a place called au bon café. We arrived to two homosexual men dancing on the bar and a table respectfully, to an array of songs from beyonce to Brittney spears. “Hilarious” only sums up half of the sight we were witnessing. David approaches the bar and orders 5 shots for everyone for no apparent reason, and then 5 more. (The next day we realized he paid for the latter in pounds and Euros and upset the people behind the bar) David was also upset about having to watch this “stupid leather jacket all night” while the other people were having fun and dancing. There was no reason David should have been watching the jacket, as it did not belong to anyone we knew, if they existed at all. Needless to say David was out of commission and after Brittany was finished dancing with her new friends it was time to make a dash for home where it would be safe. Halfway there, David was furious about why we were still walking and “didn’t stop at that corner” as he points his finger. Not knowing what was going on in his mind I (Alex) navigated us home safely at around 4:45am. There was also a French thug who got in David’s face yelling something or other with a bottle of booze in his hands. After asking if David understood to which David replied, no, he said oh sorry and walked off. What a night.

Day Three: Short and Sweet
Day three started off at around 12pm due to the shenanigans from the night before. Well shall I say the day started for 2 people? It was decided that we would go to the Louvre and as David fell asleep while putting his socks on, it was decided that he should stay at the hostel while Alex and I went on to see the Mona Lisa. The Louvre is too big to actually go through so we hit the highlights of the Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, the Sphinx, and a bunch of other paintings, sculptures, and so on. When we arrived back at the hostel, David greeted us from the same position that he had fallen asleep in and didn’t actually believe that we had been gone for that long. He had managed to sleep for 13 hours “and sleep so hard that he didn’t dream”. Feeling rejuvenated, David joined us on a quest to find food, and disappointingly find food other than the fondue place that you drink wine out of baby bottles. The line was ridiculous, and the place was even smaller. We finally found a quaint pizza parlor, which serves only personal sized pizzas and walked along the red light district to the spinning blades of the Moulin rouge. A note about the hostel. The elevator is limited to three people, if they could fit, and is like the tower of terror. It lifts up and falls down as people step on and off. Most people love it, Brittany will not step foot in it.


Also, new pictures on flickr, www.flickr.com/photos/euroexplosion.