paris
It’s a very exciting time. The new flat is simply stunning. Even better than we remembered. It’s so large and light and… just gorgeous! I took a million photos. There was also loads of surprise goods waiting for us. We’re very well-stocked now. I actually had to use half a cupboard just to store the superfluous kitchenware. Luckily, we’ve got three huge cupboards, two of them walk-in size, so storage is definitely not a problem.
The move itself was a nightmare. NIGHTMARE. It didn’t help that I somehow managed to throw my back out, and spent the week prior in major pain. It made box lifting nearly impossible. Thankfully, Richard was a saint when it came to doing the majority of work. But it still involved SEVEN trips back and forth in our little rented car. And each trip meant at least five or six journeys up and down four flights of stairs. We went non-stop from 12pm to 12am on Saturday. Then we collapsed into bed at 1am only to get up at 7am to do it again. The car was returned at 1pm, and I was at work two hours later. Needless to say, it was a rough night.
Yet, despite all that work, I couldn’t stop. I wanted everything set up immediately, and set about unpacking right away. I spent every free minute of the following three days emptying boxes and shopping for random household goods. I got so caught up in it, I nearly forgot our Parisian getaway! So I suppose it shouldn’t have been a big surprise when we were caught a bit unprepared.
Our arrival was a bit traumatic. Firstly, we nearly missed our flight. I promised Richard not to go into any further detail on that. When we arrived at the tiny ghetto airport, we got on to a stiflingly hot, crowded bus for an hour-long journey into the city. There, we were dropped off in a car park, and blindly followed a crowd to an enormous, dangerous roundabout. We had to cross about six roads of chaotic traffic and almost got hit several times. After that stress, we finally found the Metro, and managed to buy a carnet of tickets. Twenty minutes and several line changes later, we found our way to the flat we had rented. Problem was, we had to call the owner to get in, and as it was past 8pm, all the shops were closed and we couldn’t find anywhere to buy a phone card, because of course our mobiles didn’t work. It took us bloody ages to find one. Once we did, we rang the owner’s two numbers – only to get no reply. Ack! What now? We left a few messages, but with no way of returning the calls, we weren’t sure what to say. Meet us at the flat…soon…please? I left my mobile number, just in case it could receive incoming calls.
We lingered near the flat for a while, leaving occasionally to return to the phone box. Still no answer. Things were not looking good. It occurred to us that maybe we were being swindled. I had reluctantly paid one night’s stay up front as deposit, and now I could see it being lost. It was heartbreaking. Also, it was late, and the chances of finding an affordable hotel room were looking slim. But first, we were starving. So we paused to fill our tummies, hoping it would fortify us in other ways as well.
The flat did have a fabulous location, right off a busy market/restaurant street, so we wandered up and down looking for a place to eat. I was very excited to see so many Greek restaurants among them, but disappointed to find they did not cater to vegetarians. None of the restaurants did, in fact. So we ended up settling for huge baguette paninis in a tiny fast food type place. Good and cheap. Afterwards, we headed out again for one last attempt to reach the landlord. No answer, again. Then we phoned a friend, a Parisian girl named Elodie who lived in Glasgow for awhile, who we had intended to meet up with at some point during our visit; it was really awkward to phone her at 11pm in crisis, however. And of course there was no answer anyway. I left my mobile number again, hoping beyond hope it would work. Then we started phoning every hotel we could possibly afford, with no luck.
Things were looking pretty bad. Then we heard a familiar voice. It was Elodie! She had received my message, but was unable to phone me back, so decided to take a chance in finding us. Amazing! Maybe our luck was changing! She told us we could stay at her tiny studio flat – she even offered us her bed. Aww! It was so very sweet; I felt terrible, but so thankful. She was our saviour! We took a taxi to her flat and hung around there for a bit. Then, just as we were getting ready for bed at around 12.30am, my phone rang. It was the landlord! He was apologetic and a bit confused. Turns out, the flat is accessed solely by codes; there was no need for a key, and he was certain he had emailed me the codes to get in, thus no need to meet in order for us to get in. But after receiving my frantic messages (late, apparently) he checked the emails and realized he hadn’t given me the code…. Argh. So he gave me the codes then, and we set out in a taxi again. We finally entered our rented flat at 1am. It was really nice. REALLY nice. So at least there was that.
The next morning, we woke up to gorgeous weather. GORGEOUS. It was suddenly the height of summer. Fantastic! We quickly got ready and set out for the corner patisserie, where we got some mouthwatering treats. Mmmm. I also bought a bag of cherries from a stall in the outdoor fruit and veg market. Delicious! We took our treats to the botanic gardens, where we munched and planned our day. It basically included a wander along the Seine, around Notre Dame and the Louvre. We made it to Notre Dame, and it was all so lovely in the sunshine. We never made it to the Louvre, however. We got caught up in Marais instead. It was so wonderful just to wander the winding streets and peek in the funky shops! We found an adorable Moroccan place for lunch, with an indoor courtyard and reasonable prices. Service was slow, to say the least, but we had all the time in the world. After an hour, however, we were more than restless. Our food NEVER came, and we had problems trying to communicate with the sole waitress, so eventually we just gave up and left, grabbing a falafel at a nearby takeaway. Which was delicious and filling and cheap. But we were still frustrated. Blah.
After some more wandering – most of our trip involved wandering actually – we returned to the flat for a bit of a siesta, and shower, as it was positively sweltering. Then we set out for dinner in Montmartre, at a vegetarian restaurant I had read about. It was TINY, as in three tables and one woman who did everything. Luckily, we was quite a character, and a very nice one at that. The food was good and filling as well. Afterwards, we hiked up to the top to see Sacre Coeur and its surrounding nightlife – and the Eiffel Tower glittering from afar, the closest we got to it the entire time. Oops. Ah well. It was all very pretty.
On day two, we explored more of the Latin Quarter, where we were staying. We peeked into the Sorbonne, and sat in the stunning Luxenbourg Gardens. Then we wandered down to Musee D’Orsay, stopping at an amazing bagel shop on the way, and spent a leisurely few hours gazing at gorgeous art. The museum was so much better than I remembered from when I was 16. We crossed over to the Louvre afterwards, with half-assed plans to walk through the gardens towards the Arc de Triumphe and Eiffel Tower. But it was just too darn hot. So we went back home for yet another siesta/shower. We stuck around the area for dinner in a great Italian place. Yummy, cheap pizza and fast service. Yay! Then we went to Bastille to check out the nightlife, which was hopping! We found a quiet bar and had a drink, feeling oh so cool and trendy. Not really. More like, feeling old and saddo, as we left shortly thereafter to catch the last train back. Ha! Ah well.
We spent our last day at the Centre Pompindou. I love me some modern art! It was great fun, not only the museum, but also the surrounding area, which was thriving with outdoor entertainment and bustling shops and cafes. It was a great, lively atmosphere and a fitting goodbye.
Also fittingly, perhaps, the return to Glasgow was hellish. Argh. The bus back to the airport was at least air conditioned.. but had a loud, obnoxious Australian family bringing up the rear. We wanted to slap them. They paled in comparison, however, to the people who populated the train from Prestwick. After a 20-minute wait in the wet wind, we got stuck on a carriage with a hen party and three groups of scary singing drunk football fans. Oh. My. God. It was awful. Richard rolled his eyes immediately and begged that we switch carriages at the next stop. But I had chosen that carriage because it actually looked the least full of obnoxious twats. I initially thought he was overreacting, but soon changed my mind when their constant chants became positively unbearable. AN HOUR LATER, we finally arrived at Central Station, and stumbled out into the rain – only to come across a taxi queue 100 people long. After midnight on a Saturday night in downtown Glasgow… not the best time to arrive. Shit. The nearest late night bus stop was a trek away, and I could barely walk. But we had no choice. It, too, was populated by obnoxious drunks. This time the worst offender was an annoying woman who propped herself up directly in front of me, singing and advising each new passenger. She wouldn’t budge from her position, and I accidentally whacked her in the nose on my way off the bus. Ha! Brilliant. It WAS accidental, I swear, but I was so glad I did it afterwards. Twat.
The sight of the new flat was never so welcome! I happily collapsed into bed, expecting a nice lie-in in the morning. But no, I got up at the crack of dawn to finish unpacking. I’m a woman obsessed! This time I enlisted Richard’s help to assemble the bookshelf and sort all his CDs, as most of the remaining boxes were full of media. We had invited Matt and Nal around for a pre pub quiz visit/meal, so it gave us incentive to finish, which was just what we needed. The result was well worth it as well. With everything set up in its place, the flat is even more marvelous. I absolutely love it! Finally, a home!
