First impressions of Paris

Bonjorno! (said in the most blatant Aussie ‘strine possible)

Well I’m alive and kicking in Paris, and I’ve gotta say, day one of the trip is going pretty bloody well. This morning I was up at sparrow’s fart to finish loading my gear onto my bike. Have only had about 4 hours sleep, and bugger all every other night since my farewell party last Saturday, just because I’ve been busy planning and preparing. The weather in London on my last morning was predictably shite, kind of the same grey, dull sky and dampness as when I first arrived back in August ’08, so fitting that I leave on that impression also.

Well I cycled to Kings Cross / St Pancras Station and handed over Bessie (my trusty bicycle) to the excess baggage people. I was a little aprehensive parting with her, because she was travelling on the train that left 1 hour before me, due to no space being available in the hold of my later train.

Anyway, I managed to sneak all my bike luggage through security with only the mildest wimper from the security guards (supposedly there is a limit of 2 bags – I rocked up with 5 panniers) but I snaked them through the xray machine before he could put up too much of a protest. Bye bye London!

The Eurostar from London was thoroughly enjoyable, sitting at a table opposite a young Aussie fella from Redfern in Sydney, and next to two lovely old Canadian ladies. Before long, we were sharing my packet of strawberry jaffa cakes (yes I know, you can’t get strawberry jaffa cakes, it’s an oxymoron, but you know what I mean) and sharing stories, as I sipped on my Köstritzer Schwarzbier.

Anyway, we are pulling into the Nord train station, and my first impression is that Paris is very ‘Ghetto’. Lots of graffiti, concrete, old rattler trains sidelined along the tracks… it kind of reminded me of catching the train into Sydney from Cronulla. That stretch of wasteland between Hurstville and Tempe that always makes you think “when is the next clean up Australia day?”. he Aussie bloke opposite me reckons that the Paris authorities spend the most money on cleaning and beautifying their city of any other major international city. not sure how truthful that is, but I reckon they need to up their budget a bit more around the Nord train station.

Anyway, with some apprehension, I went looking for my bike, hoping that it made it to Paris in one piece without me. The train platform felt like it went on forever, and then I had to walk halfway back again once I found out where the luggage place was. Lugging 6 bags along the length of the platform, behind a hoard of slow waddling tourists was not fun at all.

I did my good deed for the day, when some French bloke yelled out to me (in French! how exciting 🙂 from a balcony above the train station, and pointed out that a suitcase had fallen off a luggage cart that was driving past. Nobody else was there to get it but me, so I followed the luggage train – now lugging 6 bags and one massive bloody suitcase – arms are aching… But the driver was delighted when I returned it (saved him from one angry customer!) and then realised that from the look of my bags, that I was looking for a bicycle. He pointed me into a room, sorted out my receipt and within a couple of seconds, Bessie was being wheeled out, just the way I left her – in perfect order 🙂 Thank you karma.

Well, after being reminded very suddenly that the French do drive on the wrong side of the road, I was delighted to find that the Parisians have built cycle paths along nearly every road, and on major roads they are also separated by a concrete barrier. Much safer than in London! However, the cycle to my hotel wasn’t exactly quick. I got lost in an absolute labyrinth of one-way streets that always went in the wrong direction, plus soon discovered that despite having these great cycleways all around the city, cars and trucks freely parked over the top of them, with the concrete barriers preventing you from finding a way around – so you end up stuck on the main road anyway…

But, half way to the hotel, the sun came out, and it’s now a lovely 25 degrees, I’m holed up in my hotel with fre wi-fi access for 4 days, in the Nations area of Paris (near the southern border of the 11th arrondissement).

‘What is an arrondissment?’, I hear you say. Well, it’s basically a French post code or area code. If you take a look at a map of Paris, it’s interesting how the numbered order of the arrondissments spirals outwards from the centre of Paris – in the shape of a snail shell! Haha, don’t know if that’s deliberate or not.

The French people have been absolutely lovely so far. I’m actually quite interested to meet an arrogant one, just to see what the are like. I feel like I’m missing out on an authentic Parisian experience because I haven’t yet been treated with utter contempt, but instead like first class royalty. I’ve even got my own free parking space out the back of the Alfa Nation Hotel, nice and secure 🙂

Anyway, it’s sunny, I’m gonna go grab some beer from the supermarket, check out the city a bit, take advantage of some free wifi Internet, do a bit of GPS mapping and then have a quick snooze. Tonight, I’ve got Hannah coming out to spend a couple of days in Paris with me, before I cycle north towards Amsterdam on Monday.

It’s been a great start. Let’s hope the rest of the trip goes as well as today!

I’ve decided that every now and again I’m going to slip in a “Word of the day” into my blog posts. As you do come across some very interesting terms and interesting words when you’re travelling. Well, I’ve already got my first one, before I’d even stepped foot on French soil.

Word of the day: Bumfloss – all Aussies hate it when foreigners – especially seppos – refer to our thongs as ‘flip flops’. Well, it turns out that Canadians apparently share the same feelings as the Aussies – thongs go on your feet! The conversation I had on the Eurostar (with two retired Canadian ladies, remember) at one point took a rather amusing turn. Apparently the youth of Canada have coined a new word for a g-string, so as not to let it be confused with a thong… bumfloss. Ewww!

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