Adventures in Paris

Eve Thompson

Ms. Asuncion

21 October 2015

Adventures in Paris

            When I was eleven years old, my grandparents took my mom and me on a week-long trip to the city of lights itself, Paris, France. We flew on separate flights over and back, as my grandparents had plans to go to England as well. Little did I know that this trip held surprises I would never forget.

            My mom and I flew on a red-eye flight over, and my first taste of Paris was the very large and somewhat frightening Charles de Gaulle Airport. It was a labyrinth of sorts, with hotels on one side, the terminals on the other, and the cute little cafés that are typical to airports. We almost got lost trying to find our way through it. We purchased train tickets to get to our hotel, which was far away from Charles de Gaulle. When we boarded the train, the sight was unexpected. The benches were well-loved from all the commuters in Paris. There were posters in French advertising various perfumes or shows at the theaters. The public transportation in France is antique-like, very old and very dirty, but convenient.

            I remember watching the charming French countryside pass by. It was storybook-like, with its petite villages and marketplaces, as well as the quaint farms you would imagine when you thought of France. As we got closer to the inner city, the quaintness of the countryside disappeared and was replaced with a busy metropolitan not unlike D.C. I was put in charge of the map, but I hadn’t been paying any attention to the stops. We decided to have an adventure and get off at the next stop.

            The next stop turned out to be one of the worst neighborhoods in Paris, but we didn’t know that at the time. We walked through the wet alleyways with the homeless beggars on the corners and clothes hanging on their lines. We walked on cobblestone streets, water running through the cracks. This was not the sophisticated Paris I had expected.

            We asked about five different people for directions. To our relief, most spoke English. My French was conversational at best, and my mom’s was worse. They were also surprisingly nice about it, for busy Parisians. We ended up walking about four miles, but in Paris, nobody drives. They all ride bicycles or mopeds, or they just walk.

            One more surprise for little eleven-year-old me: everyone smokes. In the United States, it’s largely frowned upon, but in Paris, it’s simply part of the culture. Parisians smoke everywhere, on the subway, in the bathrooms, in grocery stores, and especially in restaurants. We saw a group of maybe ten to twelve motorcyclists stop at a street corner café and smoke. It was simultaneous, like they had all agreed to stop at this certain time and have a few cigarettes. I remember laughing so hard. They probably all wondered why the strange little American girl was laughing at them.

Another thing I love about France is the dogs. I saw a pug walking on the Champs-Elysées. The way that pug walked was both the saddest and the most adorable thing I had ever seen. That pug didn’t just walk- no, that pug strutted. It was like Monsieur Pug was on a runway displaying the latest Parisian fashions. I’ve always believed that dogs are like their owners, and this was especially true for Monsieur Pug and his owner. His owner was equally chic with her Louis Vuitton purse, fur coat, and all.

            France is a trip I will never forget. It was one of the best weeks of my life. I had dreamt about is and read about it, and, while we had some hiccups along the way, it remains the best trip of my life.