Eurotrip, Part 2: Ah, Gay Paris.

5:30pm, Tuesday, May 24. Paris, France. We arrive at Gare du Nord, or the north train station in Paris. We are truly strangers in a strange land.

First thing fist: You know in The Bourne Identity, when there is the really cool board showing all the trains coming in and out, and it's not an LED screen but it flips over cards super fast and makes a cool noise? Well, they had one here! I was so excited about that. I think that sound is so cool! The trip is starting out on the right foot.

Props to the Metro: Even though I'm a good Texan who would rather die than give up his car for a subway, the Metro was bad ass. It was dirty, but not filthy, so it was okay, and it was so fricking convenient. We could get a 3 day all you can use pass for $18. The $ sign will stand for the Euro for the duration of this post, btw. Anyway, pretty good deal. It was convenient, the maps were excellent, and it was easy to get everywhere. So much love to the Metro.

Anyway, so Jared (Sam's best friend) and his father had made reservations for us at some hostel. Very nice of them, thanks! However, Jared is a bit concerned because he did it online, and he doesn't have a confirmation number or anything like that. Hmmm...my Jedi senses have a bad feeling about this...

We get to our "hostel". First of all, it's probably in the deepest, darkest ghetto in Paris. The address is a project...like a tower project. We walk inside, and it's smoky, dark, and a lot of weird, not hostel looking people are walking around. Now, I've never been in a hostel, but I'm thinking this is a safe bet.

Sam and Jared are, in a word, terrified. So I take charge, and find some guy with the Frenchiest French accent I've ever heard (he was awesome, he sounded EXACTLY like the stereotypical French bad guy in an American movie. He even walked with a limp! And smoked a FAT Cuban!) who informs us that this isn't the hostel, that this is the Office for the hostel, where they book reservations and take care of paperwork. Okay, I'm thinking. We can get this taken care of. Then my new French buddy says, "But I don't think you're hostel opens until July."

Well, shit.

Fortunately, I'm not kidding when I say that this was my new French buddy. At this point I'd like to give some love to my mother, who actually has a degree in French. So growing up we learned just enough French to not look like assholes while in France, and our accents weren't too terrible. Well, at least no one made fun of us to our faces, and I'm sure they would have had they been terrible. Anyway, for whatever reason, me and this guy hit it off, and we had a good time discussing Cuban cigars, Embargos, and how the French were going crazy and becoming paranoid like America (he brought this up, not me). In the end, he booked us a hotel, printed out some maps on how to get there, gave us detailed directions, and sent us on our merry way. So thanks again, my shady French buddy whose name I wish I knew!

7:00pm. We arrive at the Hotel du Puree. For those of you, Paris rates all it's Hotels on a 5 star scale, and sets the prices for each type of hotel. One is the lowest, five is the highest. Guess where we're staying. On the bright side, it is only $20 a night for each of us. Not bad. And we get our own room, so we don't have to worry as much about someone stealing our stuff. It's also on the third floor, so we can leave the window open to let air in as we go out.

Problem: the hotel closes at midnight. Like, the front door is locked, and is not reopened until 6:30am. Hmmmm...this could be an issue.

So we just got to Paris, we've finally lost our huge ass bags, and what should we do after eating dinner (Chinese place two stores down)? It's time to find some wine, my friends.

So we go to the French version of a convenience store that is across the street from our hotel, and buy a bottle of wine for $8. It's probably the best wine I've ever had in my life. It was unbelievable. We're just walking through the streets in our neighborhood, checking out the scene, and passing the bottle around. It was great. And no, we're not alcoholics.

I end up calling it a night early, and go get in bed about 10:30pm. Sam and Jared are going to go out some more. Unfortunately, when we took the train down, we passed through a time zone and had not realized it yet. So when Sam and Jared came home at 11:40pm, it's really 12:40am, and the door is locked. They are really pissed though, and think it's 11:40, and keep ringing the doorbell until the propetier answers. He's less than thrilled to be awakened. However, he likes us, so he's not too mad.

Good night, Paris.

10:00am Wednesday, May 25th. Time to get up and get moving! First we go to the l'Arc de Triomphe , which was incredible. Check out Sam's pics for some cool pictures, there was a mural of Saint Michael leading some soldiers into battle that I particularly liked. I was just very impressed; I thought the architecture was incredible, and there was a sense of...nobility that I really liked there. There's also an unknown soldier from World War I buried under the arch with an eternal flame that is to commemorate all soldiers who died defending France, much like the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in the US. It's quite moving. Just a very impressive site.

The top of the Arc was awesome, too. The Arc is literally the nexus of Paris; all roads lead to it. You could see an incredible amount of landmarks from the Arc; again, check out Sam's pictures. Strangely, what was most impressive was probably the traffic going around the Arc. It's a circle, of course, and there are six lanes as you drive around. The inside lines have the right of way. Meaning that someone from the inside will suddenly cut across five lanes of traffic, and everyone else has to give them room. It was unbelievable to watch. Those of you who know me know I'm a pretty aggressive driver, and I think I'm a pretty good driver. I have faith in my driving skills anywhere I've gone in the US.

There's no fucking way I would ever drive a car in France.

Those people are crazy. Absolutely insane. I am in awe of their driving skills, because to be able to drive in Paris without killing themselves, other drivers, or pedestrians truly blows my mind. I wouldn't even own a car if I lived over there. Watching the Parisians drive was truly a look into the Mouth of Madness.

Anyway, after we'd just sat at the top of the Arc and watched the traffic for about 15 minutes, we went down the Champs-Elysees, which is basically the Rodeo Drive of Paris. It was really funny going into every store, because right by the door they have the hulking African bodyguard in a dark suit with the Secret Service earpiece. However, since we were not European, I was bigger than all of the bodyguards, and Sam was taller than all of them. I found it really amusing. Whenever I catch people trying to physically intimidate other people it just cracks me up for some reason. Anyway, it was funny to see how the other half of Parisians live.

We got done with that, and went to the Eiffel Tower. We rode up to the top, and I have this to say: it's a big mother fucking metal tower. Sorry. That's it. Maybe if a girlfriend had been with me, I would have felt differently, but I just was very unimpressed with that puppy.

It was here that Jared got lost, and instead of going outside and waiting in the middle of a wide open area where we got our tickets, and where it would be really easy to see Sam and I since we are 6" taller than everyone else, Jared decided to go home. So Sam and I spent about 2 hours looking for him before we found an American, begged their cell phone off of them, and called Jared.

We did take time to go to the MusÃe de l'Homme, which is across the Trocadero river, and has an INCREDIBLE water fountain in front of it. It was cool to walk around there.

Well, we've left Jared by his lonesome long enough. Time to head back to the hotel.

9:00pm. We're on our way to meet my friend Tracie for dinner. We going to this really nice French restaurant, and do the sit on the street corner and eat thing. The dinner is delicious; I have rabbit, and it tastes like a more tender chicken. Much love to Tracie for choosing such a great place for dinner. We then go out and hang out with her at a really cool Irish Pub. Very nice evening, and it was great to see you again Tracie. I'm sure Sam enjoyed seeing you, too, and probably more than the last time he saw you, when he threw up on your shoes.

3:00am. We've just gotten home by cab (yes, the cabbie did rip us off, but only a little bit) and now have a problem. It's 3:00am. The hotel is locked until 6:30am.

Now at this point, I'd like to remind you that we are on the third floor. I'd also like to remind you that we left our window open because it's hot, and there's no such thing as AC in Europe. So we're sitting there when Sam and I have this exchange:

Sam: "We can climb up to our window."
Michael: "You're out of your fucking mind. There's no way."
Sam: "Yes, there is. There are bars on the first floor window, a place to stand on the second floor, and you can jump up, grab the windowsill, and pull yourself in from there. Jared and I can act as a crash pad if you fall."
Michael: "If I fall? Why am I going first?"
Sam: "Because you will have to pull Jared up."
Michael: "Did you not notice there is a police station across the street?"
Sam: "It's 6 shops down. And besides, they just brought some people in. They'll be busy."

Of course, being the more mature, older, and wiser brother, I decided that, what the Hell, it's 3:00am in Paris, who gives a fuck. Sam was right; getting to the second floor was easy. What was deceptive was the height of the window. It was 12 to 13 feet above the second floor railing. Which means jumping up there to grab it was out of the fucking question. So I climbed back down, and we walked around Paris til 6:30am. It was a nice night, we stayed at a cafe for a while, got propositioned by French hookers (no), and got to see the sun rise in Paris. Good times.

10:00am, Thursday, May 25th. We check out of our hotel, and lug all of our shit to the Louvre. The Louvre was, in a word, amazing. This was the part of Paris I was most looking forward to seeing, and it did not disapoint. We walked in, and thank the good Lord they had a bag drop off where we could leave all of our crap. We asked the ticket lady if we could see the entire museum in a day, and she responded, "If you spent 30 seconds looking at each exhibit, it would take you 3 months to see the entire museum." In other words, we didn't buy the ticket for the special Napoleon Exhibit.

We saw so many incredible paintings and sculptures, it was just amazing. The building itself is incredible; I could have spent all day walking around the castle and observing the grounds. We saw the Mona Lisa, and now that I have finally seen it in person, I can say what I've been saying for years: what is the big deal with that painting? I just don't get it. We saw the Venus, which was incredible. Anyone who goes to Paris needs to plan on spending at least one full day at the Louvre. That's the bare minimum. It's great.

3:00pm. We go across the street to another French cafe to grab some lunch, and am served by yet another rude French waiter. I'll wait til Europtrip Part 3 to address the French/Parisian reputation for rudeness, but I will take this moment to tell you know that everything you've heard about what horrible human beings French waiters are is absolutely 100% true. With the exception of the waiter at the nice restaurant Tracie took us too, every French waiter we had was an arrogant son of a bitch who took pleasure on looking down at everyone he "served". In that, I'll give the French waiters some props: they don't hate Americans. They hate everyone, equally and without prejudice. And I don't think it really matters if you speak French or not. They are haughty, arrogant, and rude to everyone. This guy was no exception.

Funny part of this meal: All of our sandwiches cost about $4.70. Jared ordered a coke, which was served in a nice Pepsi glass, with ice. The cost? $6.50. That's almost $9 American with the exchange rate. I'm sorry, but I was making fun of him so bad. There was a McDonald's across the street; I walked into the McDonalds and got a Medium coke for $2 there, just to make fun of Jared. That's the kind of friend I am.

And yes people, a Medium Coke at McDonalds with NO REFILLS is $2.00, or $2.67 American. And that's the cheapest place to find a Coke in Europe. In other words, Coke is making a KILLING in Europe.

Anyway, after that, we went back to the Louvre, and finished looking at that until closing time at 6:00pm.

6:00pm. The Louvre is closed, so we grab our stuff, and head to Starbucks. We hang out there for about 2 hours, because we are fricking exhausted. Finally, we have Buffalo Burgers (yes, real Buffalo meat. It was good, a little tougher than regular burgers. Go with Medium Rare on your Buffalo Burgers), have the rudest waiter we've had yet, and head to the train station. It's time to head to Munich.

10:00pm. We arrive at the trainstation, and have no trouble getting on our train. Unfortunately, it is RIDICULOUSLY hot. Sweltering. And our car is packed (all 6 seats filled): 3 of us, 2 by a nice Spanish couple, and the last filled with the American stereotype of a Frenchman: an ugly bastard who looks like he hasn't showered in weeks, immediately asks us if we speak French and acts offended when he finds out we don't, and constantlyy finds a way to look down his nose at us even though Sam and I tower above him. It's amazing how some people can do that. Anyway, I get even more frustrated as I go take a walk after about an hour on the train (it's an 8 hour ride) and realize that only one other room has 4 people in it, and the rest have 2 or 3.

Yeah, I'm pissed.

I'm also getting dehydrated. I find out that there is no dining car, and the Europeans have never heard of a water fountain, one of America's greatest inventions. It's so hot and cramped in the car that there is no way I can fall asleep, I'm sweating so much that for the 5 minutes or so I do doze I'm having dreams of water, and we've still got several hours to go before we reach Munich. Killing the Frenchman sitting across from me is looking more and more like justifiable homicide in my mind.

4:00am. Thank God. The train has stopped, and I see vending machines. I'm sure they have water there. And if it's soda water, I'll snap and kill EVERYBODY.

A word on soda water, or water with gas. Be forewarned, my friends who have never been to Europe: If you go to a restaurant and ask for water, you will not get tap water, and usually won't get NATURAL water (typically an Evian bottle). You'll get Soda water. This vile substance is Sprite, minus the lemon lime, minus the sugar. That's it. That's the best way I can describe it. I don't know why the Europeans drink it--this piss makes American beer taste good, I swear to God--and I don't see a reason for having it. Why would you want Sprite or 7Up, minus the lemon lime, and minus the sugar? Why not drink Sprite or 7Up? I'm truly at a loss for what they see in it. So if you go to Europe, and you want tap water, order Tap Water, or Water No Gas. If you are buying Bottled water, make sure it says Natural, or make sure there are no bubbles when you turn the bottle upside down. It's the only way to be safe.

Anyway, I get to the machine, and they do have water! For $1.20! I'M SAVED!

But wait! It doesn't take paper money! That's right, $1 and $2 Euro are coins. The first paper money starts with $5. And this will only take coins. And yes, you guessed it: I have no coins. I'll need to run back on the train and wake Sam and/or Jared in order to get coins. It's at this point that I should point out that I have no fucking idea how long this train is staying at this station, and I have no idea if the doors will stay open once the train starts to pull away. I also haven't heard any whistles to alert me to when the train will be leaving, nor any flashing lights, or anything to tell my dumb American ass, "Hey crackah, get back on the train."

Just worth pointing out.

It was okay though. I went back, got money from someone, bought a bottle of water, the three of us drank enough to make it to Munich, and then I made Sam move into the middle seat across from the Frenchman so I could get a couple hours of sleep before we arrived in Paris. Before I fell asleep, I swore that the first thing we would do in Munich was get my tickets back to Paris (to fly home) reserved, so I could get a sleeper car and have a bed to sleep in on the way back.

And with that, we departed France.

Coming soon: Eurotrip, Part 3: Sieg Heil, Mother Fuckers.