Our final day in Paris (Day 4):
So our day began with us waking up and deciding to make our way to the famous burial of over 6million Parisians, or the Catacombs some may call this place. For having as many bodies buried in the area that the Catacombs does, you would think that the entrance to the historic site would be large and very apparent to any regular tourist. However, we discovered that his was not the case which leads to about 10minutes of us trying to find the small door/ticket office to enter. The Catacombs happens to be a 1.7km walk through what seemed to be a dungeon 20 meters under the ground. The first half of the walk was the section that used to be an abandoned quarry, and then came the millions upon millions of bones, stacked everywhere. After the initial shock and awe, we decided that the area was a bit creepy and musty for our sake, and made our way through the bones rather quickly (it also didn't help that we couldn't read about half of the signs along the way due to the absence of English). After the Catacombs we made our way to the Arc Triumph which is in the middle of a roundabout that consists of 9 unmarked lanes (which leads to a car accident every 30minutes on average). After the Arc, we decided to make our way back to the hostel, in which we were forced to make our way through a mile stretch that included about 30 of our Yugoslavian beggar friends. Luckily we navigated through them without getting pick pocketed or cornered with their note about their diabetic hamster that needed surgery. Once we got back to the hostel, we decided to grab another delicious falafel for dinner, and then call it an early night for our 5:30 am wakeup for our 7:20 train ride to Barcelona.
The ride was full of worry and unease. Not knowing where and when to get off really confused us and listening to the announcements in French gave us no comfort. Luckily we got off on the right stop to a little town called Narbonne. After the extraordinary 5 hours in the train station we boarded another train hoping we were going the right way. The train staff didn’t check our tickets until we had crossed the border into Spain so we assumed we were on track. Delay after delay, a Rasta wearing French woman finally got kicked off the train, probably a stowaway. We arrived and found the metro feeling comfortable with our skills and knowledge of Spanish. We walked down to find paint had splattered all over me (Alex) and David’s bag and jacket. I was also told I had a booger in my nose by a thoughtful Spanish lady. A little disheartening. Our first attempts at communication at best, were on par with 6th grade Spanish class. Not only do we not remember as much as we thought, we really didn't learn the same Spanish that is spoken in Spain. I'm guessing a tex-mex hybrid. We found the hostel and searched off for food. On our way to our future dinner destination, we encountered another odd European event that may or may not have been aimed at us (David) in a derogatory manner. While walking on the sidewalk we saw a small man running towards us in a half sprint. We he was about 5 feet from us, he all of a sudden turned to me (David), and aimed an air rifle at me and popped his mouth with his thumb (which was quite common back in the 4th grade to do). After he shot me with his air rifle he continued running down the sidewalk laughing hysterically to himself. This is when we decided that not only are there several crazy European people who target me (David) for their own amusement, but there are also a lot of crazy people who like to sing, talk, or laugh to themselves that we encounter on a regular basis...After this event, we decided to eat at a bar that served delicious tapas. Delicious, cheap tapas and we sure ate our fill. We told the waitress to just stop us when she thought we were ordering too much. Again we failed at our attempts in Spanish most notably David who froze up like the street performers we later saw, when trying to order.
ON THE WAY BACK TO THE HOSTEL, I was confused as I gazed upon a man with his pants halfway down straight in front of us. Brittany suggested we cross the street which soon turned out to be an act of fate as we stared back at the bare bottom of a drunken Barcelonan. A distinct sound roared out of him and we soon were sent into hysteria, as the poor fellow "pooped" all over himself from the standing position. Brittany dragged us away, for we could have stayed and laughed until our brains exploded. The guy was just fed up with it and pooped on the street. That’s it, just pooped. On the Street...
Day 2 was a garble of mishaps at the various train stations, but after finally booking the right train we went to the main strip Las Ramblas. Las Ramblas is the main pedestrian street that is full of street artists, pet stands, flower stands, and street performers. Some of our favorite street performers included an alien, guy sitting on a toilet, a huge dragon (that was scaring Asian tourists) and Satan himself. We also went to the la boqueria (mercat de sant josep). It is a giant open air market that has tons of stalls with fresh fruit and veggies, fish, meat, eggs, and fresh smoothies. Also small restaurants are in there that prepare the fresh food for you. We are hoping to make it over there for lunch one day when prices are more reasonable. Tomorrow we are going on Fat Tire Bike Tours and hopefully will have more to report. Retard Probable*.
*Retard Probable-Means delay is probable and flashes on the ticker in train stations. Almost as good as Cockfosters.
So our day began with us waking up and deciding to make our way to the famous burial of over 6million Parisians, or the Catacombs some may call this place. For having as many bodies buried in the area that the Catacombs does, you would think that the entrance to the historic site would be large and very apparent to any regular tourist. However, we discovered that his was not the case which leads to about 10minutes of us trying to find the small door/ticket office to enter. The Catacombs happens to be a 1.7km walk through what seemed to be a dungeon 20 meters under the ground. The first half of the walk was the section that used to be an abandoned quarry, and then came the millions upon millions of bones, stacked everywhere. After the initial shock and awe, we decided that the area was a bit creepy and musty for our sake, and made our way through the bones rather quickly (it also didn't help that we couldn't read about half of the signs along the way due to the absence of English). After the Catacombs we made our way to the Arc Triumph which is in the middle of a roundabout that consists of 9 unmarked lanes (which leads to a car accident every 30minutes on average). After the Arc, we decided to make our way back to the hostel, in which we were forced to make our way through a mile stretch that included about 30 of our Yugoslavian beggar friends. Luckily we navigated through them without getting pick pocketed or cornered with their note about their diabetic hamster that needed surgery. Once we got back to the hostel, we decided to grab another delicious falafel for dinner, and then call it an early night for our 5:30 am wakeup for our 7:20 train ride to Barcelona.
The ride was full of worry and unease. Not knowing where and when to get off really confused us and listening to the announcements in French gave us no comfort. Luckily we got off on the right stop to a little town called Narbonne. After the extraordinary 5 hours in the train station we boarded another train hoping we were going the right way. The train staff didn’t check our tickets until we had crossed the border into Spain so we assumed we were on track. Delay after delay, a Rasta wearing French woman finally got kicked off the train, probably a stowaway. We arrived and found the metro feeling comfortable with our skills and knowledge of Spanish. We walked down to find paint had splattered all over me (Alex) and David’s bag and jacket. I was also told I had a booger in my nose by a thoughtful Spanish lady. A little disheartening. Our first attempts at communication at best, were on par with 6th grade Spanish class. Not only do we not remember as much as we thought, we really didn't learn the same Spanish that is spoken in Spain. I'm guessing a tex-mex hybrid. We found the hostel and searched off for food. On our way to our future dinner destination, we encountered another odd European event that may or may not have been aimed at us (David) in a derogatory manner. While walking on the sidewalk we saw a small man running towards us in a half sprint. We he was about 5 feet from us, he all of a sudden turned to me (David), and aimed an air rifle at me and popped his mouth with his thumb (which was quite common back in the 4th grade to do). After he shot me with his air rifle he continued running down the sidewalk laughing hysterically to himself. This is when we decided that not only are there several crazy European people who target me (David) for their own amusement, but there are also a lot of crazy people who like to sing, talk, or laugh to themselves that we encounter on a regular basis...After this event, we decided to eat at a bar that served delicious tapas. Delicious, cheap tapas and we sure ate our fill. We told the waitress to just stop us when she thought we were ordering too much. Again we failed at our attempts in Spanish most notably David who froze up like the street performers we later saw, when trying to order.
ON THE WAY BACK TO THE HOSTEL, I was confused as I gazed upon a man with his pants halfway down straight in front of us. Brittany suggested we cross the street which soon turned out to be an act of fate as we stared back at the bare bottom of a drunken Barcelonan. A distinct sound roared out of him and we soon were sent into hysteria, as the poor fellow "pooped" all over himself from the standing position. Brittany dragged us away, for we could have stayed and laughed until our brains exploded. The guy was just fed up with it and pooped on the street. That’s it, just pooped. On the Street...
Day 2 was a garble of mishaps at the various train stations, but after finally booking the right train we went to the main strip Las Ramblas. Las Ramblas is the main pedestrian street that is full of street artists, pet stands, flower stands, and street performers. Some of our favorite street performers included an alien, guy sitting on a toilet, a huge dragon (that was scaring Asian tourists) and Satan himself. We also went to the la boqueria (mercat de sant josep). It is a giant open air market that has tons of stalls with fresh fruit and veggies, fish, meat, eggs, and fresh smoothies. Also small restaurants are in there that prepare the fresh food for you. We are hoping to make it over there for lunch one day when prices are more reasonable. Tomorrow we are going on Fat Tire Bike Tours and hopefully will have more to report. Retard Probable*.
*Retard Probable-Means delay is probable and flashes on the ticker in train stations. Almost as good as Cockfosters.
Wow, did someone really shoot David in the face with an air soft gun and sprint off? I laughed out loud reading that.
ReplyDeleteWhere are you guys getting your funding for this trip?