Definitely Dumb Decisions

Monday morning. My first exciting day in Paris. I was pleased with the arrangement I had haphazardly arrived at with my hair. I decided I would make an effort with my hair, as the jeans and T shirt uniform was becoming monotonous. I paused to take a photo of myself in the mirror. 

Definitely a dumb decision.

The bikeabouttour started at 10:00 a.m. The rendez-vous point was to be in front of the Notre Dame …. in front of the large statue of a man on a horse. Easy!

My fear of the Metro and desire to lose weight made me think that walking the 45 minute walk to the Notre Dame was a good idea. What a great way to experience Paris …. on foot. I enjoyed taking in the sights and making mental notes of shops to return to when I had more time.

I glanced at my watch at half past nine. "OK." I better get my skates on. But from here it started going wrong.I didn't take into account that I was heading deeper and deeper into central Paris where the traffic had an arrogant disregard for pedestrians. Pausing to refer to my i phone map of Paris cost me precious minutes. Finding myself confronted with an assortment of 6 possible roads to take at every intersection cost me precious minutes.

Before I knew it I had 5 minutes before the tour departed. I could see the Notre Dame towering close by. I was sure I could make it. 

Nope. The ancient town clock struck ten with an authoritative tone. I couldn't for the life of me see the statue of the man on a horse. I couldn't see the tour group anywhere! Panic! The serene garden MUST HAVE BEEN THE BACK of the church.

Running as fast as my little legs could carry me, it took me a few minutes to run to the other side of the church. 

Thank goodness I saw the backs of a group of people following a young guy with a bike that had the tour name on it.

By the time I had caught up with them, I was drenched in perspiration. My clothes were sopping wet.

The young englishman was charming, entertaining, knowledgeable and very friendly in a delightfully casual way. I think you get the picture that he was pretty cool in my books. The fact that he spoke english in a cultured, clipped english accent helped things along.

We used the bike lanes and paused frequently for interesting information about Paris.

I took a photo of the plaque respectfully placed at the entrance of every school in Paris where jewish children were taken by the Nazis. At this Parisian school more than 500 children were taken and killed.

 I began merrily snapping at every opportunity. My first impressions of Paris were of amazingly grandiose and beautiful buildings.

 The guide told us interesting stories about the people that lived in and used these buildings.

This is Victor Hugo's house. He wrote Les Miserables amongst other things. The reason his books were so long is because he was paid per word.

The beggars hanging around: lying on the footpath, or standing wailing with their hands outstretched was a bit disconcerting.

The picture below is a little pac man. There was a graffiti artist who bombed Paris and subsequently other major world cities with tile art. All of Paris has these quirky little tile pictures on the corner of many, many streets. It certainly looks better than scrawling obscure initials.

This is me in the group of cyclists as we disembarked our bikes for a little while.

This picture encompasses the Bateau Mouches, the Notre Dame and the Seine River. Paris has 2 little islands in the middle of the Seine. There is the left side of the river and the right side of the river.

  I thought that the tour was for three hours. It turned out to be four. Throughout the entire 4 hours we looped, circled, crossed the river multitudes of times until my geographical orientation was completed obliterated. I lost my sensation of what was North, South, East and West. 

We paused in the Latin Quarter to get a bite to eat. I chose to eat a hot potato salad. I was a bit miffed when 100g cost $8!!! Note to self: food in Paris is just as expensive as I had been forewarned. 

All the while I was guarding my i phone and money as thieves are rampant. I knew I was a sitting duck as everything about me screamed,"tourist!"

I snapped a picture of everything. I was wide-eyed all the time. The sights, sounds and incredible cultural differences made a huge impression on my senses. Riding on the bike allowed us to cover a fair bit of ground in a seated position.

I enjoyed the story of the padlocks being attached to the bridge and the key thrown into the Seine as a declaration of loving one's partner forever. Apparently it is a well-known phenomenon in Paris. (News to me.)

When I paused for lunch, I realised that I only had a little bit of life left in the battery. So I stopped taking so many pictures.

The tour finished at half past 2. I knew that i needed to head home to charge up my cell phone, disappointed that i wasn't able to spend more time in the centre of town. 

Fear of the Metro meant that I thought it would be a good calorie-burning exercise to walk back home ….. despite the fact that I was exhausted from the day's physical events.

My sense of direction started to play tricks with me and it took me an hour to find the road that would lead me back to the hotel. 

3:30 p.m. My i phone battery died. Panic started to well from deep inside. I knew that if I was to  pull out the large fold-out map of Paris, it would be an advertisement to all thieves that I was lost and vulnerable. I wandered the streets, hoping for the best, but the situation worsened at each intersection. Intersections are arranged in complicated star patterns where a multitude of roads meet in a random layout.

It was hot. I perspired profusely. In fact, my clothes were wet from fear-induced perspiration. I had no way to ring anybody for help. I decided that i needed to conquer my fear of the Metro so that I could get back to the Hotel. I entered the underground warren to be confronted by a swarm of busy people with blank faces. The signage of directions with destinations, directions, line numbers and line colours along with the choice of connections threw me into a spin. I tried to make sense of it all, but my brain went into SHUTDOWN. I knew that walking home was my only option.

After asking a few people for directions I made my way home on very wary feet. I metaphorically kicked myself, thinking of how stupid I had been in all of my decision making. I couldn't even recognise any of the landmarks that were part of my morning journey. By the time I had reached the sanctuary of my tiny hotel room at 5:30 p.m. I was deeply grateful. 

I had an hour to shower and gather my wits as I had arranged to have dinner with a young french man that lived in Paris. Kev and I had played kiwi host to him for a couple of weeks in Auckland a few years ago.

In my momentary stillness, I had time to contemplate the day's events, I realised that the day was definitely a series of dumb decisions. But it wasn't over yet!