Sunny Paris

In the morning, I suppose I should have forced everyone up earlier, but I figured they deserved some rest. After all, they'd all had much more to drink than I'd had (I was a bit too paranoid about those random French waiters, and had insisted on water the entire time we were hanging out with them), and they were still fighting jet lag.

So I tried to stay asleep until about 10 AM, at which point I got up, found my things, and took a shower. Or at least, "Used the shower head to try and get myself mostly wet", as it was one of these bizarre European set ups, where they have a tub and a long hose for the shower head, but no curtain or anything to hook the shower head to in order that the water might drip down over you. Hence, you're constantly stuck trying to hold the water in one hand and the soap in the other, and it's all a very big trick to get clean. No idea why the Europeans think this is an efficient way to bathe!

Eventually I suppose my movement got the rest of them up, and whilst they were getting up and ready I went down to the little boulangerie we'd seen the night before to get some breakfast. I then also went for a walk to see if I could find any fresh fruit for the disabled vet, but there was none to be found!

Although it was almost noon by this point (obviously folks were not going to really be taking advantage of their time in Paris), I reminded myself not to be frustrated, as this was my friend Megan's birthday trip to Paris, and we would spend it however she wanted to spend it. Did make me miss some previous trips where it was a "stay up late and get up early" philosophy, that had be exhausted by the end of the trip, but I got to see a lot of Paris!

Just as we were finally getting up and out, Megan got a call from a French fighter pilot she knew (we were originally supposed to meet him at Gare de Lyon at noon), and so told him we would wait in the lobby of the hotel for him. More delays? Argh!

Oh well, it's her birthday. So we sat in the lobby of the hotel and actually figured out how to make Megan's phone work so that I could call her (hurrah!) and just shared stories of our high school days. I've known Megan since we were practically in elementary school, and were in Girl Scouts together. I was surprised as she told a lot of stories about a trip we'd taken to Mexico with the Girl Scouts when I was 17, as while I'd just remembered it as usual foreign travel, it appears the trip was absolutely life-changing for Megan. Hence she remembered the trip with a lot more clarity, and I was laughing my head off at stories of things I truly hadn't remembered, but they came back to me as soon as she told the stories.

I was also so surprised to hear stories about me in high school that I didn't even recall myself, like one incident that apparently became legendary among our co-hort, when I'd been doing my calculus homework in my AP Biology class. And the teacher, hoping to catch me unawares, asked a particularly complicated question, which I answered correctly and dismissively, and then went right back to my calculus homework. Everyone laughed at how I could multi-task on a thousand things, and the teacher still couldn't figure out how to trip me up. In truth, it was simply that high school I mostly remember as a waste of my time, yet I was never able to overcome my natural inclination towards always doing too much at once!

Eventually the French pilot we were waiting for joined us, and so we made our way down to Opera to change money at the money exchanges. I couldn't believe it when Megan paid me back for the Metro carnet I'd bought, she was incredibly generous throughout the entire trip, paying for most of my stay in Paris!

We then took the Metro down to Ecole Militaire, and walked up the park to the Eiffel Tower, taking a few pictures as we went. But the really exciting thing happened as we exited the Metro. My phone buzzed, and I saw the message: "Well hello Lizzie, D*** here. Will be heading to the west side this afternoon for a few errands...I don't suppose you are around?"

I just absolutely whooped with delight, I was so happy and relieved that he'd gotten in touch! So I quickly texted him back to tell him I was in Paris, so couldn't meet him today, but perhaps tomorrow would work instead? "Tomorrow it is then", he quickly replied. I was absolutely skipping up the park towards the Eiffel Tower, I was so delighted!

Then because we were starving, we went over to Trocadero where we had some lunch. I had some duck which was fantastic, and the French pilot got me into drinking caphirinas. We also ordered some champagne to toast Megan's birthday!

After lunch, we returned to the hotel where I picked up my backpack, and then we returned out tot he Eiffel Tower because Megan wanted to go up it. We spent ages waiting on line, getting closer and closer to the time where I really desperately had to leave to catch the Eurostar. Finally we managed to get on the elevator and up to the second level, but it was pretty much time where I desperately had to go. So we took a few pictures and then I left them, scrambling to get back down and get to Gare du Nord.

I realised as I went that I had actually left it far too late, and as I ran into the Metro, then realised I was on the wrong side of the platform, but in my hurry had wasted my last Metro ticket! Still, I was in too much of a panic about the time anyway, so I ran back up to street level, and went to the nearest street corner, hoping to flag down a taxi. Thankfully, after only about five minutes one appeared, and so I jumped in yelling, "Gare du Nord!"

And as we whisked through traffic, I slowly began to relax, realising that I was definitely going to make my train. It was really pretty actually as we took a beautiful route through Paris, past the Palace de Concorde and the Louvre, so I got to see everything as I went! Finally arrived at the station, only 11 Euros later, making me think that a cab was definitely the way to go!

I dashed up the stairs, but then realised that before I checked in for the Eurostar, I had to make it through customs, which required a landing card. Except that I normally use IRIS in the airport, so hadn't filled one of those out in ages. And I had no pen! So I spotted an immigration officer standing around, and begged him for a pen, which he loaned me but made me promise that I would return by knocking on a very severe looking "No entry" door. So I did (took me two tries to fill out the card correctly, I was so flustered by all of these recent events), and then made my way through customs.

On the French side, they barely gave me a second glance, but on the English side, the immigration officer noted my t-shirt, which read, "I Celebrated Megan Marie Shutka's 30th Birthday in Paris France, August 22, 2010". And he pointed out that it was only August 21, and so I was obviously going to be leaving Paris and would NOT be celebrating Megan's birthday tomorrow on the 22nd. "That could be construed as making false statements to an immigration officer" he told me. I absolutely blanched, as I was nervous enough about having to actually TALK to an immigration officer, as I normally just walk through the IRIS machine. Yet he looked at my work permit and laughed and told me it was fine, so it was with relief that I made it through to the other side.

The drama wasn't quite over yet, for when I sat down in the waiting room to relax before the train, there was suddenly this "POP!" that had everyone hitting the deck and ducking for the floor, I swear it sounded like a gunshot. But when nobody started screaming and nothing else seemed to happen, everyone peered their heads up, to see a man standing alone (everyone had run away from him) with an open bottle that I guess had been under pressure. But I've never even heard a champagne bottle pop so loudly! He was quite apologetic, and everyone looked at him suspiciously for a bit as though we still suspected him of having had a gun.

Soon it was time for the train to depart, and this time, despite having paid more for my ticket, I found myself stuck just in regular old economy class, no First Class carriage this time! Still, the trip went relatively quickly, as I found myself texting back and forth with my friend Doro about the tennis in the morning, and with the young man about our plans for a date the next day. Good boy was super-responsive and wrote back straight away, suggesting lunch the next day. I'll need to miss a lot of the tennis, but who cares if there's a cute boy involved?

Eventually the train pulled into St. Pancras, and soon enough I made my way home, did some last back-and-forth texting with the young man about our plans for the next day, and headed off to sleep after a fantastic day!