Excerpt from an old journal (from my first trip to Paris):
My first day in Paris was amazing!
Long day. Fell asleep at 9:00pm, now I’m wide awake at 4:00am. Damn, I’m tired.
Recap: the Metro was a bit intimidating, but it was fine after I figured it out. Basically, I just had to keep a few main stops in mind and remember that the trains go two different directions. I boarded on the wrong side one time.
No biggie, but I couldn’t figure out why everyone started screaming when I jumped off the platform and ran across the tracks.
Haha, j/k. I walked back around. But the track thing did cross my mind. I wonder if anyone has ever done that…
Anyway, so I was trying to get to Notre Dame in the afternoon, and I didn’t know which direction to go as I was coming out of the Metro station. I didn’t even know if I had gotten off on the right stop.
As I was shuffling through the crowd, I saw a man who looked like he worked for the Metro. I asked him, in French, if he spoke English: “Parlez-vous anglais?”
He shook his head.
For some reason, I went super melodramatic on the guy (I don’t know why…it just seemed appropriate). I gave a really long sigh, mouth pouty, and sluggishly turned away. I’ve never done that before to be perfectly honest, but it was very damsel-in-distress.
The man’s eyes softened. He held up his hand and said: “A little. I speak a little English.”
“Notre Dame?” I asked, and he pointed to his left.
Guess I didn’t even need English for that, come to think of it.
-Written November 26, 2011
During my first ever trip to Paris
