Paris

I’ve been avoiding going to Paris for the simple fact that it’s the top tourist destination in the world, and I usually don’t enjoy places that everyone else seems to love. Still, I arrived with an open mind, not letting my preconceived notions deter my experience. I arrived in Paris during a massive transportation strike, so no trains or buses were running. I was determined to see the sites, regardless of how far I would have to walk.

01/02/20

On my first day in Paris, I did light walking but spent much of the day in my hostel. I decided to check out a free cheese and wine event hosted downstairs. It seemed like a never ending flow of plates and bottles. By the end, my stomach was full, and the room was spinning. I figured this was a good time to get some rest, so I headed to my room for the remainder of the day. I woke up from my nap to blaring music coming from the bar downstairs. I walked down to see what was happening. The bar was full of people drinking and dancing while the DJ played the top 40 hits. I walked over to a table where a group was playing beer pong. They invited me to join them. I threw a perfect parabola as the ball made a clunking sound against the inner corner of the cup and rattled in. This would happen multiple times. I was so confident that the narrow cups looked as wide as a cereal bowl in my mind. It was a great feeling sinking the ball into cup after cup, hearing the loud applause, and feeling the celebratory pats on the back. This allowed me to meet people from every continent on the planet, except Antarctica. We were all travelers, some of whom had been on the move for almost one year! This became our daily routine every night. I explored during the day and played beer pong with my new friends at night.

01/03/20

The next day, I went on a free walking tour to learn more about the city. As I walked to the meeting point, African salespeople approached me aggressively, trying to sell their products. My biggest shock about Paris was the amount of African people that immigrated there. I avoided them as much as possible because they all seemed to want to sell me something. The Africans constantly stopping me was frustrating because I was running late, which exacerbated my anxiety about missing the tour. It was 45°F, but I was sweating profusely through my light hoodie. I felt a burning sensation and tightness in my calves as I power walked through the busy streets.

I finally made it with minutes to spare. One of the first sites on the tour was the Notre-Dame Cathedral, which was under heavy construction after a massive fire the year prior that destroyed much of its roof. As my guide gave a history of this church, I began to fully comprehend why the destruction was a big deal to so many around the world. Sadness overcame me as I stared at this religious monument covered in scaffolding with a massive crane hovering over it. I wondered if it would ever be the same again. As I walked through the city, listening intently to my guide, I was suddenly stopped by a woman holding a clipboard. She asked, “Do you speak English?”. I responded, “Yes”. This was my first mistake. Then she says she’s collecting signatures for a petition. I wanted her to leave me alone so I could catch up with my tour group, so I signed it. This was my second mistake. She then started asking me for money. This is when I realized she was trying to scam me, and I started walking away. As I walked away, she started following me, yelling, “Monsieur! Monsieur!”. I feel a hand grip my arm as she desperately tries to garner my attention. I pull away without looking at her and keep moving as I rejoin my group.

After the tour, I walked a couple of miles down to the Eiffel Tower. I had no interest in paying exorbitant prices or standing in the long lines for the view at the top. I only wanted to see it up close. On the way, I noticed vast amounts of people on Lime scooters, bikes, and skateboards that took up the bike lanes. I’ve never seen anything like it. This was a direct result of the transportation strike plaguing the city at the time. As I walked, I could see the Eiffel Tower in the distance. I reached a narrow hill made of cobblestone and ascended to the top. There it was, one of the architectural wonders of the world, the Eiffel Tower. After an hour of gazing at the beautiful symbol of Paris, I started the 4 mile journey towards my hostel. The sun was going down, outside began to feel like an icebox, and the city was busier than I’d seen it thus far. Pedestrians filled the sidewalks, and it seemed like every type of vehicle known to man clogged the roads. As I walked, I observed people yelling loudly at each other in the streets, a man getting jumped by ten people, and a car angrily driving over the sidewalk to escape heavy traffic. Most didn’t seem to react to any of this happening around them, leaving me to assume this isn’t abnormal behavior for French people. Many of the streets had no type of signal indicating when pedestrians were allowed to walk across. You must walk through traffic, hoping no cars speeding through the intersection will hit you.

Later that night, I went bar hopping with a few of the people from my beer pong crew. There was Tan from San Francisco, Akino from Singapore, Ananya from India, and Courtney from Kansas. A time of drinking and dancing ensued. After a fun night out, as we were heading back, Ananya kept complaining about how long the walk was and how tired she was. I jokingly asked if she wanted a piggyback ride. Somehow, my joke turned into a reality, and I carried her much of the way back.

01/04/20

By day 3, walking was beginning to take a toll on me. I was averaging 15-20 miles a day, which my legs obviously weren’t used to. At home, I barely average 2 miles a day of walking. The pain in my knees was a 9/10 at this point and was somehow worse going down stairs or a steep hill. My main goal this day was to see the Catacombs. This was what I was most looking forward to on this trip. I painfully limped the entire 2 hour walk there and told myself it would be worth it once I arrived. When I approached the entrance, I noticed a bold sign. CATACOMBS CLOSED EARLY BECAUSE OF TRANSPORTATION STRIKE. I was livid because this wasn’t mentioned at all on the website. I wanted to cry. This was all for nothing. I stared at the sign for a few minutes in disbelief and walked away disappointed.

My new plan was to go on a boat tour. It was cold, but I sat on the outside deck of the boat where there was a low number of people. I relaxed as the boat moved smoothly on the river and the French flag waved in the wind. By complete coincidence, the tour time I picked happened to be when the Eiffel Tower sparkled with bright lights. I realized at that moment how blessed I was to have the opportunity to marvel at this site. My anger, frustration, and pain from all that transpired that day didn’t matter. I was now living in the present. After the boat tour, I was hungry, so I stopped at a spot called Café A on the way back to my hostel. I enjoyed a perfectly marinated duck with potatoes. I’m not sure how French this meal was, but it tasted incredible and was a great way to end a long day.

01/05/20

Much of this day was spent at the Louvre Museum. The first thing I did was walk to the Mona Lisa. It seemed to be the only painting with stanchions and a long line to view it up close. The painting was way smaller than I expected, so I didn’t understand the hype entered the line anyway. I thought, "Am I an idiot?” and “Why am I standing in line to look at this small painting?”. I reached the front of the line, looked at it for 10 seconds, and walked away. I wasn’t sure what else I was supposed to do. I then walked through the museum, trying to read and see as much as possible. I spent hours doing this and likely only saw a small percentage of the artwork. It’s said that looking at every object in the Louvre will take about three months to complete, which is something I learned from my walking tour days prior.

01/06/20

This was my final full day in Paris. The first thing I did was walk to the Basilique du Sacré-Coeur de Montmartre, a Catholic church on top of a steep hill. I limped to the top and sat watching the mass happening at the time. Afterward, I enjoyed Paris's panoramic view from this hilltop as the sun beamed with no cloud cover. This made the painful climb worth it. As beautiful as this was, it wasn’t my top goal of the day. I wanted to attempt to see the Catacombs again but was dreading the two hour walk to get there. As I walked down the hill, the pain was excruciating. I descended through the Montmartre neighborhood, which was full of steep, winding, cobblestone roads and small shops. It was quiet and had a small town feel to it. This neighborhood on a hill was both beautiful and stressful because it increased the discomfort in my leg exponentially. I purchased crepes at one of the small shops, hoping this delicious snack would take my mind off the pain.

Then I came up with a plan. The plan was to get access to wifi to rent the electric Uber bikes sitting all over the city. This turned out to be more difficult than expected. As I continued, I watched the city change from quiet, cobblestone streets to a bustling metropolis. I was halfway to the catacombs but barely able to move at a normal pace. Each step felt like someone hitting my knees with a sledgehammer. I was thinking strongly about giving up and going back. This is when I noticed an Uber bike sitting in front of a McDonald’s across the street. I excitedly limped over, connected to wifi, and scanned the code. Success! I hopped on the bike and was on my way. This was my first time on an electric bike, so I wasn’t prepared for how fast I was moving with little effort. I moved so swiftly I was keeping pace with the other motor vehicles around me. Ten minutes later, I arrived at the Catacombs. I parked my bike and walked to the entrance. I pulled at the door, and it didn’t open. There was nobody inside either. Confused, I carefully read the hours of operation. They are closed on Mondays. I couldn’t believe this happened to me again. I walked to a nearby McDonald’s, where I sat and sulked for 20 minutes. I eventually got out of my funk and walked to a spot nearby with delicious pastries. There was so much to choose from, so I ordered something at random. It was a round, flaky bread with a sweet flavor. I couldn’t tell you what it’s called, but I enjoyed eating it.

I went on the move again without a clear plan and felt my phone vibrating repeatedly in my pocket. It unexpectedly connected to wifi by itself. I stopped briefly to check my messages and saw one from a woman named Manie, whom I was connected with through a mutual friend in Chicago since we were in Paris at the same. Manie also lives in Chicago, but she is from Paris originally and was visiting family. We planned to meet in an hour, so I headed in that direction. It takes me longer than expected because of my leg issues, but I’m relieved when I finally see her. The first thing we did was drink coffee, which is a traditional midday Parisian activity. I was relieved to sit and take the weight off my legs as I enjoyed my espresso. After coffee, we walked to a dinner spot she frequented as a child called Le Paradis du Fruit. I don’t remember the food much, but the smoothies here are top notch.

Before, during, and after coffee and dinner, we discussed the culture and what it’s like living in France. This is when I learned the major differences between French and American culture. The French government basically gives large sums of money away to their citizens for things like having a baby and being unemployed. They tend not to work as much as Americans because they don’t have to. When the government tries to force them into working more, they go on strike, which I got to experience firsthand. Americans are programmed to think laziness is bad, but the French seem to embrace it. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether this is a good thing. I was so intrigued by our conversations I momentarily forgot how much pain I was in. After dinner, she walked me to my hostel, where we said our goodbyes. After we parted, I was left in introspection, wondering if I sometimes push myself too hard with work. Maybe I should be more like the French.

Despite my leg injuries, I had a good time in Paris. A culmination of great food, iconic sites, and cool people made it an experience to remember.