Back from Paris
Im back from Paris...As you well know, I was a rather down with the blues when I arrived at Paris.. my heart just wasn't in it at the time.. I was exhausted.. physically and emotionally. Got seriously wasted Friday night drinking with a bunch of friends and total strangers.. then cycling the entire day through the mountains on Saturday and spent Sunday going to church and visiting more times. Sunday night was busy packing my bags and literally singing the blues on a guitar! haha..
Monday morning at 6am I left for London, saying a temporary goodbye to some friends at the bus station... Ya, it was just a temporary goodbye.. But I spent a lot of time on the trip thinking about them... they had made my stay here so memorable.. Leaving Sheffield wasnt just about crossing borders anymore.. or about not being able to see the country side.. It was about leaving the company you were with! But for the moment, at least I was going back after my trip to Paris.
It was just the 2 of us going backpacking, and since my buddy was extremely bad at directions, the burden was on me to make sure we arrived properly in London and Paris, and not the middle of the Czech Republic (although that would have been quite an adventure too!). Priding myself with at least a respectable sense of direction, I was feeling rather confident. But in fact, we arrived at London totally dazed and confused. I couldn't even tell the difference between the subway and the train lines, or Victoria coach station from the actual Victoria station... all I could think of was getting to the toilet... and when I entered.. i thought I had entered the ladies.. before realising that it was unisex... :-p I had to call a friend up to ask directions.. and even then still felt a bit overwhelmed..
Anyway, to make a long long story short.. we ended up walking instead of taking the metro lines... with giant bags almost as big as us, weighing a stone.. (hey, its my first time ok) We went to Buckingham palace, the London eye, London Bridge, Trafalgar square.. saw Malaysia House, all the pretty parks Westminster abbey, London tower (which isnt really a tower at all if u ask me). and to my embarrassments, the bridge that I thought was London bridge was in fact.. tower bridge.. the one with the 2 point sides.. London bridge had in fact.. fallen down.. and the new one was just a normal flat bridge.. So.. ya... shame on me.. hehe..
By 8pm... we were exxhausted.... and over the phone.. I was banged left right and center by my friend for not sleeping the night before.... yes mummy.. im sorry.. But hey, its me suffering, not u! Wat da... We got on the bus 10pm sharp, and despite a bunch of stinky-drunkard-kilt-wearing-Scotsman having a mini party of their own right behind me, I slept like a baby... I was awoken once, when the French authorities had a peek at my passport.. They didnt even bother chopping a visa or whatever.. Later I found out that unlike the UK, the french are really really lax about entering their country. It was re-entering the UK that was the headache. Arriving at the bus station in Paris.... I suddenly found that I could understand they rail system better than the London one..even if it was all in French.. so we set out on the next 2 hour trying to find our God forsaken hostel.. which I booked without first checking its location.. because it was the cheapest la.. We took the train.. then the bus.. the walked another 1 to 2 miles.. before arriving at the hostel. At reception, the receptionist told me the eurolines coach station was really just a 5 minute bus ride away. We had taken a big round half through Paris for nothing. But what the heck, at least for for a moment there it felt like we were truly backpacking, not spoilt by the convenience of modern day facilities.
We were too exhausted d0 anything for the rest of the day, so we ended up just going to Carefour nearby to buy some food and an adapter for the laptop. I found it rather lame that our first day and night in Paris was spent entirely in the accommodation, but at the same time, I really needed to recuperate. On the bright side, we got to watch plenty of French TV.. and managed to learn a grand total a of 2 words.. Wi for yes, messi for thank you... yay. That was the time I was really feeling the blues and wrote the previous post. But I spoke to a friend online, and I suppose having some one to talk to always comforts you in a way, so I did feel marginally better after that. I allowed myself the rest of the night to wallow in self pity and nostalgia, determined that I would try to make the best of it the next day.
The next morning, with earphones stuck to my head, mp3 player loaded with my favourite songs, and a properly clean and rested body, I was ready to have a good day with my new found French skills... But somewhere at the back of my mind, there were still some hints of the blues that I wondered whether would go away.. or if whether I even wanted to go away.. But the minute I stepped off the train and set eyes on the Eiffel tower for the first time in my life, I was no longer singing the blues.. The sheer sight of it make me grin ear to ear.. This was it, this was why I had come all the way and spent all the money. We climbed all the way up to the second floor to see the breathtaking view of Paris... and we had our lunch up there, enjoying the moment and feeding the pigeons. I wished my friends were with me, but hey, I had my buddy with me, so I wasnt totally alone. Our visits to the rest of the landmarks were pretty much the same, the lourve, concorde, sacred cour, arc de triumphe were all nice to finally see in person.
But 2 incident remained in my mind... We were just about 1 mile away from the Concorde, sitting down on a bench, enjoying our sumptuous lunch of chocolate bread and honey crunchies when a young french girl, about 12 years (?) came up to us speaking in french, asking for our water. I wasnt sure if she just wanted a sip, or she wanted the while bottle, but seeing how that was our only bottle of water left, I wasn't about to share it with this rather demanding girl. I said no and no.. but she kept on asking.. to the point of actually insisting that we gave it to her. She stared at us for a full 10 seconds.... and the she spit on us.. well, at least at my friend, and before we could even react, she was speeding away, looking back at me. We were shocked.. having just being spit at in broad daylight! I helped my friend wash of the spit from his arm and cloths, and we werent even sure whether to feel sorry or angry at the poor girl. People do desperate things in desperate times, and though I was upset at what happened, she didnt really cause us any harm except perhaps a dented ego. Maybe she was homeless.. or maybe she was poor... whatever it was.. I kept thinking of that little girl and a few homeless people I saw the entire day.. Even in lush and posh Paris.. there were people in dire need... who had no place to stay or clean water to drink, with real life problems. What was I doing whining about then?
At another street, there was this street gamer.. inviting people to place bets for his game.. not sure what the name is.. but basically there are 3 round sheets, under one of is was a white marker. The man would swap the pieces around quickly and all you had to do was just guess the which one the marker was in. Fairly straight forward and simple. In a rash moment.. my friend place his only £20 to guess.. he and I were both convinced that we got the correct one.. we could have missed! But we missed.. and my friend was broke! So I took out my only £15 to help him win back him money.. and with both of us eyes fixed on the white marker.. we made second guess.. and missed again!! And we were both totally cashless except for the coins in our pockets! My friend was desperate to win back our money and bet our RM10 (what the?) and missed again!!! To our sheer bewilderment. I pulled my friend and we walked away. I was convinced that there was some trickery going on.. The 2 other players didnt seem just like bystanders. We were in a foreign land where people refused to speak English, and we were totally broke!
Conned and broke in the middle of Paris.. my friend and I suddenly burst out in laughter at our sheer stupidity and brashness. But both of us had our eyes on the same piece, we couldnt have been wrong! It mush have been them! Anyway, my buddy said to me at least it was a really expensive tuition in learning how not to gamble with street gamblers! I said it must have been something in our Chinese blood that made gambling seem to irresistible all of a sudden. But it is the first and last time I will even gamble my money... anywhere.
Thank God for ATMs and international banks, because we managed to extract some cash out from our British accounts.. and we were in safe waters again.
Returning to the UK proved a harder than coming into France..and we had to get down in the middle of the night at the border to meet the British immigration... They asked a hundred and one questions and insisted to see our return flight to Malaysia... and we were delayed for about 15 minutes....
As I write this, I am in fact at my girlfriend's aunts place, relaxing and recuperating, enjoying their hospitality and just staying at home after 5 days of intense walking and walking.. I will return to Sheffield tomorrow and by the weekend.. its ape khabar wahai negarku again, dah makan belum?
posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 7:21 pm
Comments: 1
