Jour 82, 29 March: Lovers in Paris

Hôtel Apollon Montparnasse, Jour 82. Lovers in Paris

      The journey to Paris was not romantic in its beginning, unfortunately: 5:45am, sleep-deprived and panicked about the late bus, a girl gave us a taxi number, at train station 10 minutes early thanks to an efficient driver, Norwich-London Liverpool St. train became a sleep train (Katya on my shoulder, then vice versa once one of our necks needed a break).

      We were so happy that the East Anglia Express took only from 8-9:44 that we dilly-dallied a little on our way through the Underground. We took a few grains of pictures to make up a little for the beach of potential photo albums that we lost on our first days in London. At the Eurostar train station, aka St. Pancras International, we decided to get on the train early.

Katya and I at Liverpool Street Station, London.

St Pancras International, London

      Or so we thought. The check-in was like a mini-airport security: through the conveyor belt of luggage, the metal detector, and the passport stamp. We were barely on time—yes, ten to fifteen minutes to spare, but the train is a mechanical centipede, or whatever a twenty-part insect would be, and it took another five minutes just to walk down the length of the train to our coach 3. A train official greeted us and we hopped on. We were on our way to Paris.

      We spent the ride watching the Sandra Bullock and Hugh Grant movie, ‘Two Weeks Notice’, and upon getting off the train, we were home free at Gare du Nord train station. A British couple overheard our English and asked us if we were just arriving. We said we were. They said they were just leaving, so they offered us their two tickets for the last day of 3-day metro passes. We thanked them, and proceeded to buy two 3-day metro passes starting tomorrow til Sunday. Considering how much we used the metro, it was more than worth 44€ total (btw, the € euro sign goes after the amount, or between the euros and euro cents, i.e. 7€90 = €7.90).

      After our initial disorientation with the metro, we grew to like it later on, that is, after our other disorientation over not knowing where our hotel was. After a quick call in mostly French, Katya pointed to a nearby street and we made it.

      More on Katya speaking French: this saved us. I’m not kidding. So many times: restaurants, asking directions, and other everyday things, Katya pulled us through with the rudimentary French she learned in her elementary school years. Even pronouncing things was a godsend. As a visual learner, I was disoriented by the odd French rule of not pronouncing any of the endings of words with consonants. It took me three days to finally say ‘paines’ (word for bread) and remember the inflection. When I spoke French, it was to say ‘Parley-vouz anglais?’ (Do you speak English?).

      After the early disappointment of small accommodations at this hotel, we made the most of it, dropped our bags down, and headed out to enjoy the remaining light of the day in Paris. Our metro stop was Pernety, on a road lined with food and clothing shops. We made a huge circle, stopping to buy our first baguette, and hearing children at a nearby playground speaking French to each other. Katya remarked how there’s something about a child speaking a different language than yours that is impressive, since s/he knows more than you in that tongue.

At one point, the Eiffel Tower sparkled with lights
and it made for a good end to our first night in Paris.

      We found a place to eat almost at the end of this circular adventure, a block away from the hotel. The food I don’t remember—but Katya got a sandwich, I got—oh wait, I remember, gnocchi. The food was not fancy, but we could tell we were in Paris just by the food—the quality, the taste so rich it melted in my mouth.

      Post-dinner, we did not call it a night and make an early start on the morrow—we made the most of our first-day excitement and jumped on the metro headed for the Eiffel Tower. Sitting on the expansive grassy fields beneath the glittering night lights of the Eiffel Tower, we shared a nutella crepe and held hands. We gave each other the knowing look of how amazing it was that we were here, in one of the most romantic cities in the world, two and a half weeks before our one-year anniversary of being together.

      This was our first night in Paris together.