We didn't get off of the open bus tour anywhere for two reasons: 1) We figure we have four months to see these things, so this was rather a good opportunity to get our bearings of where things are and 2) we didn't realize we could get off and on until we were more than halfway through, so we used the first reason as justification not to get off :)
When we finally did get off, it was to get a different view of the Eiffel Tower, from across the Seine, and to find some hot lunch. We walked around the 8th arrondisement around Rue Kléber looking for a hole in the wall, and when we finally found one, it was absolutely packed with locals. That can be a good sign, but also a bad sign. Good because it means quality food, but bad because the French take forever to eat, so eight girls were not going to find any tables there. We ended up getting hot chocolate at the bar and then Nicté and I left to go back to our place and eat lunch there.
Soon after we got there, one of Jean-Pierre and Fanou's daughters arrived with her husband and two little daughters, Chloé, 2, and Charlotte, 1. Charlotte, who has some lung problem and therefore takes up a lot of her parents' time, was to stay with her grandparents while her parents spent the evening and next morning with Chloé (who *understandably* was jealous of her sister). So we got to hear the babbling French of a one and two year old around the apartment for awhile, which was fun! I normally know what to say to a little American toddler, but I couldn't automatically think of things to say to a French toddler, so that was a little strange. But they were adorable.
Last night around 7pm, I left the apartment by myself for the night to go to my friends' apartment (they are living in a private apartment without a family) which is waaay in South Paris, in the 14e arrondisement at the Porte d'Orléans metro stop. It took me about an hour to get there, and when I got out of the metro, I couldn't find any street names. So there I was with an overnight bag, in my grandmother's long, nice, black coat with jeans and sneakers (egads!!! sneakers with an overcoat in Paris?!!), lost. Fortunately, another girl, Nikki, who was also going to the same place gave me a call and told me she had found our friends' apartment but couldn't get in, so we could meet up. She lived about 15 minutes away walking, so she had just turned around and walked back. She told me to wait for her on the corner outside of the metro stop and she would take the metro back, since it was too late to be safe to walk back. What was supposed to take 10 minutes turned into 35, so I got to watch the happenings in South Paris- a crêperie stand, police directing traffic, a pickpocketing (I'm absolutely serious- I watched a man come out of the metro and walk through a group of young black men at the top of the stairs, one of whom managed to pull the man's wallet out of his coat without the man realizing it!), the usual. I was actually mistaken for a French woman by a man who was supposed to meet someone. That was flattering.
Nikki finally arrived and we spent awhile trying to figure out how to get into the apartment. When we got in, the girls made dinner for us and we got ready to go out to the Champs Elysées. One of the girls at the apartment, Dominique, said she her Parisian friend had told her about this great club there called 67. So off we went, most of us in heels, towards the grande avenue (quick side note: the metro started pretty abruptly for some reason, and I found myself flying about 8 feet through the car and was only stopped by a man who put his arm out and caught me. Pretty embarassing but apparently the Parisians in that car had a laugh, so I'm not too worried about it).
Club 65 had a coat check and a dance floor with tables around it and, of course, a bar, with unbelievably expensive drinks (8€/beer), but that's what you get on the Champs Elysées. No one really cared about drinking anyway, as we just wanted a Parisian club experience. It turned about to be a great night- they played a lot of American 90's hits, nobody at the club was visably drunk, no creepers came up and tried to dance with us- it was just a lot of good fun. Walking up the stairs turned out to be a little harder than we thought, because walking around the streets of Paris and dancing for 4 hours in heels really does a number on your feet. We hobbled our way to the metro pretty quickly because the metro closes at 2am on Saturday nights. We were able to make the last train to Porte d'Orléans.
After we boarded the metro, a group of young black guys got on. They seemed pretty harmless: they had two nice looking girls with them and they were all eating McFlurries. One went to sit down in a four seater area, and tried to wake up a girl who was there sleeping so she would move her legs off of the seat across from her. This girl would not wake up. She was probably around our age, but she definitely had something wrong with her. After the first guy failed to wake her up, the others joined in, banging on the window above her head and clapping. She kind of lifted her head and opened her eyes a little bit, but barely noticed what was happening. Finally, she got up and moved, but she was not too steady and she had white powder all over the back and side of her black coat. We're pretty sure she was coked out. Sad story. Again, though, I felt pretty safe as there were six of us and no one had any interest in us at all. I don't want to get too confident about using the metro, at any time of the day, let alone 2am, but I did feel safe last night.
Nikki and I slept on the floor of our friends' apartment. Worst idea ever! I had a seat cushion and a neck pillow I had brought from home, and I put some sheets under me. All I had over me was my grandmother's coat. I think from 3am to 8am I got maybe two hours of bad sleep. At 8am Nikki and I decided to walk to her place, where she had a trundle bed. I slept like a baby there until 11:30, when I went back to my apartment. All in all, the night was worth it, but next time Nikki and I will probably go to her place to sleep.
After I got home, Nicté and I went to the metro station to buy Navigo passes, today's equivelant to the Carte Orange (an unlimited metro pass). As it was 16,40€ for the week, I am thinking I might start taking the metro for fun just to get my money's worth! But really, with all the time I'll spend on the metro to and from school and for other excursions, I think I will easily get my money's worth.
Although tonight wasn't one of our pre-arranged dinners with our family, Fanou and Jean-Pierre gave me some home-made soupe de la citrouille (pumpkin soup), saucisson sec (dry sausage- similar to the one we ate with all the pepper on it, Dad), pâté, and vin rouge (red wine). Jean-Pierre explained that Sunday evenings were a time for French families to relax before the start of a new week. Sunday evenings, French families rarely make their food and eat left-overs or pre-made food and pass out in front of the TV. I responded that Sundays evenings in the U.S. mean football for a lot of people, but that mornings are reserved for church. He then told me about how, in his native region around Toulouse, Sunday mornings and afternoons were spent at church and then gathered around the long table of the grandparents. It was cool learning about that Southern French tradition and discussing the reasons it doesn't happen as much anymore, particularly in Paris. He told Nicté and I all about the Basque region of France and the Pyrenées, where he and Fanou have a house. It turned out to be a nice relaxing evening, which is good because I have my language placement exam in the morning. Speaking of which, I should probably go to bed!
Adieu,
Ellie
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