5. Paris
There and Back Again… an Interrailing Story
8 cities, 6 countries, 4 weeks, 2 rainbows, 1 camera
PART ONE — Paris
May 31st, 2018
Sleeper trains are one of the more unusual quirks of travelling around Europe. I thought travelling the Trans-Siberian Railway was preparation enough for the experience but it turns out, Mongolia? not quite like France. Anyways, more on that adventure later.
Getting ready for checkout today was done in record time. The bees are getting speedier, you would be very, very proud (whoever ‘you’ are). After a slow start getting out of bed, we dragged ourselves away from Morpheus’ embrace and into the land of the living, bemoaning our aches and pains as we went. Needless to say, by this point in the adventure our feet are a-hurting. Nevertheless, we managed to quickly pack, tidy and get ourselves ready for the day (and check-out) in a hot 30minutes, and before we knew it, we were ready for the day.
Lugging suitcases across the Paris metro system is an adventure in itself. With only minor bumps and bruises, we managed to make it to Paris Gare-de-Lyon and navigated our way to the luggage lock-up. Now I know Europe’s a it economically screwed right now, but €9.50 for one medium sized locker is a bit ridiculous! - what are they trying to fund another fancy-shmancy tower … I’d like it known now that if they are I want a huge-ass plaque written in my name; I think the Tower a-la Mira has a nice ring to it.
Despite going broke on a locker, we managed to navigate ourselves out of the metro system and, after procuring some baguette sandwiches and pastries, we made our way once again to the Louvre. Idealistic picnic spots seem to be a thing with us as we saw ourselves having yet another picturesque picnic in the gardens spanning out from the Louvre. Apart from the fact that it seemed to be the day for every school trip to visit the Louvre, we had a relaxing and wonderful time in our little cranny of garden.
The cute bubble of calm was only briefly interrupted by the oh-so-normal occurrence of four girls coming up to us and pestering us to donate money to orphans - you know, the usual course of events. I’m pretty sure we were inches away from adopting about seven orphaned children, but a quick bribe with a stale pack of gum seemed to be enough to push them along and they went on their way. The sun was fully shinning on our last Paris day and the fitting conclusion fuelled our spirits and boosted us onto Port de Arts aka the love-lock bridge.
At this point, I’d just like to send a letter out to all of Paris - subject: why? message: why?? You see, two years ago the French government saw it in their infinite wisdom to remove all the locks from the bridge and put up a glass barricade so that no one would be able to put up new ones. This didn’t stop the lovers of the world from drawing on the glass and locking onto lamp posts, but it’s besides the point. Was there really and need? Who were these acts of love hurting? Okay fine, the bridge railings were folding under the weight of the locks and there was long-term structural damage blah blah blah, but still. This beautiful simple act that united lovers from all over the world has now been haunted. And you what’s really the worst part? Ben and Leslies’ eternal love story is lost somewhere amongst all the rest - *moment of silence for the ending of the greatest, most wholesome show there ever was*.
We stopped to sit on the banks of the Seine to wallow in our sorrows, curse the French government and tend to our pilfered souls. Deciding not to let the whims of the Parisian Council get us down, we plotted a course to the Pantheon in order to get us an eye-full off snazzy pendulums and feminist tombs.
However, like many many things this holiday, that too didn’t go to plan as we, along our route, looked up and remembered oh yeah… Notre Dame’s a thing.
The queues to get into the cathedral itself were long and promising of a stretched-out hot wait, so we bypassed the impressive gothic monument for the crypts that lay below. The crypts themselves bear the carcass of the cathedral’s catacombs and digital reconstruction videos allow you to visualise the way of life back then. A roundabout history lesson later, we emerged back into the heart of Paris and began our outward journey.
Gare-de-Lyon is a massive building with endless halls intersection into each other and a mass of people seemingly moving as on entity in the exact opposite direction of your own destination. After several wrong turns, we managed to make it to Hall 1 and plonked ourselves down in free real-estate to await the platform announcement.
The train was delayed by 10 minutes and the platform was only designated 3 minutes before it was due to leave. Nevertheless, we made it to the platform and elbowed our way through the crowds - can’t wait to get back to the queuing lifestyle of the Brits - and found our carriage 85 and bunks 63 and 65.
Well there you have it. The first leg of our interrailing adventuring complete - it’s Facebook office and everything. Right now I’m sat in our sleeper carriage with three others - one being ‘Hi I’m Gregg from the Isle of Wight. We get into Milan at 6am tomorrow so I think it’s time for me to catch some zzz’s. Until next time, I’ll write from Rome….
- Mira Sophia
