PICTURES ARE UP! Check out moodeous.com/photography for mine and firststraw.com for Michael’s!
Where do I start. This is going to be a summary entry of all thats happened thus far, so get a cup of coffee and relax, you might be here awhile. We’ve found a free WI-Fi hookup and plan on stopping by tomorrow to update sites. So tonight while we get a little R&R at our cheapo hotel that has a great shower (good water pressure and temperature are hot commodities in Europe), a TV, space to spread out (if you thought your college dorm room was crowded try hosteling!) and a cheap market with 1,80 euro bottles of wine I’m taking on the task of journaling the trip in a way that might be interesting to you.
The departure.
Boston on the morning of our departure was uninspiring of a optimistic attitude. Inches of snow had already fallen and were turning to sleet by late morning. I’d done a stupendous job of getting myself to a place that wouldn’t allow last minute packing crisis. Just before lunch time AirFrance called to inform us that our plan at 5;30 that night would be delayed 1.5 hours, which was fine because it made our afternoon more leisurely. We did extra research on hostels and looked up city maps and finished making reservations and were even able to squeeze in the movie rental we’d thought would be returned without viewing. However last minute packing crisis’ are inevitable, I’m just glad to say it wasn’t my crisis. I was incredibly proud to have my coat and bag on and be standing at the door waiting for Michael to finish packing (who if you don’t know is perpetually organized to the point of potential OCD diagnosis’), with the perishable trash and food that we couldn’t leave for a month and the rental that needed to be returned. I even helped him repack his bag so all would fit! But it was too good to be true, we got out of the house about 20 minutes later than planned (which was fine because Michael had scheduled us to be at the airport about 3 hours ahead of time) and we got to Blockbuster where Michael discovered I’d left the DVD in the player rather than putting it in its case. After I ran home, while Michael watched the baggage, and retrieved the dvd we were on our way! Almost. We spent about 10 minutes stuck in the subway between our first stop and one we could have walked to in that time due to “traffic”. At this point we were starting to wonder when the good omens would start and the bad ones cease. At the airport the line was long but moved quickly. We jockeyed around our belongings listening to the instructions of the staff who were in varying degrees of crankiness as the patrons snaked through the cue. “Pahorts and ickes” said our clerk with a slurred whine, as she carelessly flung luggage onto the belt. After a moment of confusion she loudly snaraled “DO YOU HAVE YOUR TICK EHTS AND PASS PORTS!” as if each syllable was its on word. I guess I’m too used to the cheerful flight attendant type, but this woman really lacked the smiley charisma I expect. She threw our bags onto the belt with the others and didn’t even utter a goodbye or direct us to the gate before saying “NEXT”. In line for the security check we were happy to realize we still had over 2 hours before our flight took off and figured we were no worse off for all the delays. As I was putting my boots back on and buckling my belt a portly man held up my bag and asked “Is this yours ma’m?” Unzipping the bag and pulling out a swiss army knife Michael uttered some four letter words and I felt vindicated that I was not the only forgetful one. After Michael went back to baggage check to box up the knife which the clerks were not sure would make it to Paris we called it even on the issue of who made us “late”.
The flight:
Was generally not noteworthy, although AirFrance has cool (but slow) screens at every seat on which you can play video games and movies and music and tv and quizzes and whatnot. I was also terrified the whole time of the girl next to me, because she was chatty and kept looking at me and had those bands around her wrists that are supposed to quell motion sickness. All I could picture was being covered in puke smell and having to listen to her apologize for six hours.
The arrival:
We got to Charles d’Gualle airport a bit after 7am and were shuttled from the plane on a bus to the terminal. Michael noted that the majority of the passengers with people our age and we began to wonder if Europe would be filled with savvy American backpackers like us ruining the deserted effect that winter has on tourist attractions. Getting into the terminal was quick and painless and the structure itself was beautiful. Michael and I were both immediately struck by the same set of leading lines in the perfectly lit baggage claim area and took out our cameras for a few shots of CDG Paris Airport. I had just put my camera away when a man stopped Michael to notify us that pictures are forbidden in the airport. The airport official took Michael’s passport and began quizzing him about the geography of the US. “New Jersey is not in New uh…. New England? Is that right? New England?” he said in a think french accent as he tried to reconcile the information on the passport with our having flown from Boston. The man eventually told us to carry on and informed us that normally he would have to take the film and dispose of it, but we did not “look like terrorism or is it terrorist?” By the time we’d finished our exchange the baggage was whizzing around carasouel 25 and the taped up white box was one of the first pieces of luggage to arrive. Michael tore the container open and inserted his swiss army knife into his pocket. Ten minutes later we had our carry-on luggage and one swiss army knife, but no backpacks. Panic began to set in and we reported to Baggage services where we spent the next 20 minutes trying to find out where the baggage had gone. The process was interrupted for nearly 45 minutes when we were told to vacate the premisis while an abandoned bag was detonated. When we returned to the service desk we were told we could wait another 20 to 30 minutes for the arrival in terminal A that may have contained our baggage. Meanwhile we’d met a woman from Alaska who’d departed from Anchorage 48 hours prior, traveled to Salt Lake City where there was a delay that caused the Boston delay, came through Boston and was in Paris waiting for her luggage that had been sent to Atlanta, Georgia so she could catch a flight (she’d already missed one) to India. And she hardly looked concerned! We also met some other Americans from Florida and New York who had experience similar problems, at which point I began to wonder if AirFrance was victimizing Americans through baggage loss over that ridiculous Freedom Fries thing. Our bags were found some time later, but it was too late to make it before check in to our youth hostel and we wondered if we’d lose our room. Thankfully we were allowed to use a phone (with some help dialing) free of charge and the kind people at le village youth hostel said it was no problem. Things were starting to look up!
Paris:
Paris is a unique and beautiful European city. Filled with the cliches of obnoxious tourists, angry french people and dog crap covered streets. It is also littered with hidden gems of intrigue and entertainment. The weather has been so mild thus far, especially for a seasoned (can I claim to be seasoned after five winters?) New Englander. The weather has been in the 40s and even 50s, but cloudy and windy. We were blessed with a few golden hours of sun here and there over our three days photographing the city. We ended up taking a lot of night photos. (An aside- I love my new digital camera. This was the perfect method of coming to terms with the technology. It has allowed me to experiment with immediacy that 35mm does not provide, thus making the lesson easily learned and more permanent. ) I have an awesome photo of a bike at night that was taken near the Luxembourg Gardens and the Pantheon, where we found an outdoor photo exhibit documenting the different contrasting economies of China, which was gorgeous. Did I write down the photographers name? NO! That would have been logical. We did so much here, most of which is notable by name and personal experience. I won’t bore you with ours as they generally are not as anecdotal as the flight over, but we saw the Notre Dame, Louvre, Georges Pompideu Museum, Arc d’Triumph, Champ Elysses, Moulin Rouge, Biologique Gardens, Eiffel Tower, and a bunch more places that I can’t readily find the names or spelling of (yes I know I spelled the above mostly wrong). Highlights included walking from the Hotel DeVille to the Eiffel Tower in a loop encompassing Champ Elysess and The Arc d’Triumph as night fell over the city. We shot endless photographs and witnessed the light show on the Eiffel Tower three different times, had a delicious banana and nutella crepe and finally ended up watching the lights show the third time from the perfect location. Our hostel was situated in the Montmartre district of Paris and we were a block away from the Sacre d Coer, which is a beautiful chapel on a hill overlooking all of Paris. We left Paris on the night of the 9th for Michael’s first trip on a couchette. If you’ve never seen these before think large walk in closet three bunk beds on the left and right sides reminiscent of maybe the berth of a submarine or small boat. The ride was blessedly uneventful.
Carcassonne:
We are now in our hotel Carcassonne after a very long day of juggling schedules. We arrived at 8am to discover the majority of the town closed on a monday morning, including the information kiosk at the train station and both the annex and the office of tourism closed, with no english speakers in site and only our phrase book we attempted to find the bus to our hotel. We were pointed in the direction of a small town square with a taxi stand and bus stop that had no route maps or signs. A map of the city and our vague knowledge acquired from the internet told us that we could walk about 10 or so blocks and potentially find a shuttle from the town to le cite, the walled medieval tourist attraction we had come to see. We started our walk when we found that the tourist office would open in 30 minutes so we killed time in a cafe decorated with American Licsence Plates, pictures of the statue of liberty and a kind man behind the bar. After another couple of hours of attempted schedule changes at the train station and bus stop and a stop at the WEE FEE hot spot to schedule a hostel in Barcelona we were on our way. On our way on a rickety bus that flew through unmarked stops before we could even begin to guess what they were and guided by a misleading schedule listing only half the stations to our hotel that we’d have to walk 2km to once we stepped off the bus. Michael survived a near panic attack over the lack of organization and I spaced out till I found a stop that seemed close enough and pushed the button. It turned out to be wrong, but there was a more expensive hotel of the same company so we stopped in for information. When they laughed at us for considering to walk to the other hotel on foot and offered to change the reservation we rethought our plans. It turned out we could stay at this hotel for a euro more and no breakfast without walking 2km on a sidewalkless highway. Thinking of my mother and her wishes that I be safe we signed up and here we are, in a basic but clean room with a killer shower and food from the market nearby. Wine, a loaf of bread, lunch meat, mustard, and cheese enough for 6 sandwiches, pistachios and cookies all for only 9 euro I am quite happy. We also saw the Medieval City today. It was a ghost town, which worked to our advantage while taking pictures, but not even a quarter of the shops and restaurants were open, which is fine since we don’t really go into them at all, but it would have contributed to the atmosphere and the people picture opportunities. But I wouldn’t have our trip any other way. Every series of events leads to the ones that my memories are made of, I will not look back on anything and regret for this is the path I have chosen and it has lead me to where I am and I am happy. I want to quote Dave Wilcox here, but I can’t find the song, because I only brought one CD of his on my Ipod and its not on it, but if anyone knows the song where he talks about the road less traveled I would love the lyrics in an email. Tomorrow night we go to Barcelona!
love K & M
PS I’ll try to control the entry length from here on…. if you’re lucky.
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