Alone in Paris

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Bienvenue!

I can’t speak French, I can only copy what I see.

Compared to Incheon International, Charles de Gaulle is miniscule. Customs don’t even bother comparing your face to your passport photo, let alone stamp you into the country. They don’t even bother with declarations. I guess anything goes if you’ve got a history this long.

I had to repack my bags after I grabbed it off the carousel (yes, it arrived) so that I could attach the daypack, transforming my luggage into one massive, cumbersome, bulky travelpack breaking my back and an overstuffed green manbag hanging off to my side, the nylon strap digging into my neck.

I had no idea how to get a train ticket into Paris, I just knew where I wanted to go. In typical French style, the ticket vending machines at the international airport are French-only and accept only European credit cards. I found this out after I’d queued up and bravely attempted to purchase one.

Fortunately for me a middle-aged Englishman stood behind me in the line and ended up buying the ticket for me so that I didn’t have to queue in the other ticket line with ticket staff. He then took me down to the platform and caught the train into town together. We spoke about the packaging industry, rugby and university. Not something you’d expect as your first encounter in Paris.

I finally reached Gare du Nord and hopped off the train, confident I could somehow find my way to my hotel. Somehow, I managed to locate it without getting too lost or collapsing under my backpack. I checked in and took the 1m² elevator up to the fifth floor, found my room and gratefully dumped my bag onto the bed.

The bulkiness of my luggage had not only irritated me but it had made me concerned that I’d brought too much. I immediately unpacked my clothes and re-arranged everything I’d brought with me until I was satisfied that my new system was not only more efficient, it was going to be more comfortable as well.

I was forced to run a bath in my en suite as there was no way to attach the showerhead to the wall. I pondered for a while as I soaked in the steaming broth of my own filth as to what the hell I was going to do with myself this first week. Somewhat scared and in need of reassurance (and with the desire to let people know I’d made it safely), I rang dad and Emily and spoke to both of them for a little while. I ended up surrending to fatigue and fear of the unknown by curling up under my bedsheet and falling asleep.

By 8am the following morning I’d already bathed, eaten my supplied breakfast of croissants, bread and coffee and was out the door. I figured I’d go exploring incognito so I left my bag and camera in my room, only taking ,y wallet, phone, passport and a map.

It took me about 30 minutes walk directly south to reach the Seine and I followed it west until I wandered around the Louvre – it’s enourmous. I’m going to try and get inside on Monday as I heard the tickets are half-price then. Continuing my exploration, I sat for a moment at a fountain then kept walking until I crossed through the busy intersections surrounding the Place de la Concorde. I kept going all the way up the Champs-Elysees for kilometres until I hit the Arc de Triomphe and the terrifying round-a-bout circling it.

After taking my shoe off and adjusting my sock whilst sitting under the Arc, I casually followed my feet towards the Eiffel tower. There’s an abundance of streets and roads named after dead US politicians just opposite the tower, something I found out considering I was practically underneath one of France’s (and Europe’s) most famous landmark.

Before I checked out more of the magnificent, metallic monstrosity, I skipped down to the banks of the Seine and stuck my hand into the water for nostalgia’s sake. I walked back up from the artificial shore and admired the construction of the monument and the monumental queues winding underneath it. I touched the north-western buttress (if that’s what you call it) before I walked through the Champ de Mars and all the way back towards Notre Dame.

I gave in to exhaustion before I reached the hunchback’s residence and ended up dragging myself back to my hotel room for a 4 hour nap. When I woke I again ventured south to Cafe Oz, an Australian themed pub that was overcrowded and lacked seating. I drank my €6,50 pint of some mystery Aussie beer the barmaid thought I’d ordered and left.

I stopped by the Hotel de Ville and noticed some workers erecting an outdoor screen for what I assume will screen rugby matches for the local competition. It was still daylight at 8:30pm, so I walked around Notre Dame and continued into the Latin Quarter until I found the student restaurants and bars near the Sorbonne which aren’t any cheaper.

There are no cafes here, only restaurants and bars. It’s not cheap either and I’m being quite miserly. I walked all the way back from the Quartier and sat on the rock wall 2 feet above the waters of the Seine for a while to rest my weary legs. Eventually I made it back to my hotel room and collapsed into a hot bath in an attempt to numb the aches and pains I’d acquired from walking probably 30km or more during the day.

Korean layover

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So, I made it to South Korea even though the pilot made a bumpy mess of the landing. The pricks played “Failure to Launch” as one of the in-flight movies. What a smart choice.

I wasn’t sure if I was meant to collect my bag or not seein as I didn’t really understand what the lady said when I checked in at Sydney. I wasted about 40 minutes at the carousel just to find out it indeed had gone through into a waiting area to fly out to Paris the next afternoon.

I had to declare the jerky palmy bought me when I went through customs. I got it through without too much trouble but the official had to run around double checking that dried emu meat was permissible (it tastes horrible, by the way).

Working out how to get to the hotel was a bitch at first but I eventually made it onto the shuttle and queued for a while to check in. Boy was my showering refreshing. Unfortunately, I was too far away from town to explore (seeing as I was in a hotel next to the airport) so I read my books and wrote in my journal after eating my complimentary dinner.

This entry is backdated, by the way. I managed to get online at an Internet kiosk at the airport again before I flew to Paris but didn’t have time to write much up.

Incheon airport is massive. 3 stories with 50 gates and a lot of football advertising hanging off the walls and ceilings. They’re soccer-mad there and are undoubtedly hoping to reach the semi-finals of the world cup or better for the second time in a row.

Korea.

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5

I’m in Incheon, bitches. Incheon International Airport to be precise.

$8 for a coffee. Rock on.

I’ll update my Travelpod when I get to France. Hopefully I’ll find a cheap net cafe to spend some time in and inform people.

My mobile hasn’t got any reception here, thanks m8 roaming. If it doesn’t pick up anything in France I’ll get another SIM or something.

Anyway, I’m alive so far.

Take off!

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Off I go to Europe, first stop Incheon, Korea!

Mum, dad, palmy, Ross, Becky and Emily all braved the early morning and airport parking fees to see me off. Thanks kids, I’ll miss you all.

P.S. thanks for the presents.

Near.

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1

Less than two days to go. I got my visa on the Thursday night but I wasn’t home, so technically I could have left on the Friday like I’d originally planned. It worked out better that I’m leaving on the 7th instead, though. I’ve had a bit more time to spend money on coffee and run around doing stuff and seeing people.

The fact that I’m going to be leaving almost everything I know behind for a while is gradually sinking in. I’m not so much scared or worried but I guess just a little upset that this phase of my life (I guess you’d call it) is rolling to a close. I’m going to miss plenty of stuff: the blandness of having nothing to do at times but still feeling at home; Newtown; seeing my parents and putting up with their nagging; seeing Salesi; my mumcar; work; pissing off palmy; spending time with Em; idling on IRC; having Internet access 24/7; pirating shit off the web because I’m bored; procrastinating by flipping through everyone’s journals. Everything.

Yeah, I know… I’ll be having an amazing time overseas and all that. That hasn’t hit me yet because I’m not there doing it. Things will be different by the end of the week but for now, well, I’m just reflecting.

Aww.

Driving.

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23

I just went to Canberra and back (4:30am to 2:30pm) to submit my working holiday visa application. It went through alright but I won’t get my passport back until either Friday or Monday. Too bad my flight is booked for Friday. The nice man from STA travel said he can get me a flight next Wednesday on Korean Air instead for only a few hundred bucks more (Tahiti Air is all booked out now). I’ll do that when I visit him in a minute and make it a return ticket. Then I’ll have the pleasure of trying to find more accommodation for the new dates from the 8th to the 13th, probably. It may even work out cheaper in the long run, I’ll see.

There was a strange burnt smell in the car on the way back. I hope my little red mumcar™ isn’t going to die on me…

Tick.

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10

It’s almost time.

Almost.

Fucking Visas. Fucking UK faggot fucks. Bah.

I have a strong coffee here. Mmm.

I finished working at SDS! How dramatic. On my Wednesday night shift we had some cake and I got a card along with a Lonely Planet city guide to London and a travel journal about some guy’s journey from Bombay to Beijing by bicycle. An odd choice considering my destination but an interesting read nonetheless, I’m sure.

On the Friday I got another little card from the people that I didn’t see on Wednesday and a packet of Big Red chewing gum. I’ve got a hankering for some right now, in fact.

Em and I went to see X-Men 3 last Thursday. The critic’s consensus on Rotten Tomatoes is 53%. That’s probably a little lower than I’d give it. It’s certainly more shallow in regards to plot and character development than the previous two films. It seems like they’ve used the last film as an excuse to slap in as many characters as they can without making them interesting at all. Anyway, read the site if you give more than 3 sentences worth of a shit.

My folks had a going away party for me on the weekend, too. How nice. I ate a lot of food and enjoyed a tasty banana cake. I also took a lot of photos with my new camera.

My new phone has also arrived, I’m going to transfer the data across from the one I’m using now. They’re the same model but the one palmy gave me drains the battery in under 24 hours from virtually no usage. Oh well.

I’ve bought an exercise book to write in while I’m away. I’ll publish the good bits online along with the other crap I get up to. Whee.

Coughing.

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14

TOFU GOT DRUNK LAST NIGHT.

I just had to make that official. Boy is he a cutie. The little darling just wanted to hug and squeeze us all evening. He’s still curled up on the couch feeling sorry for himself. I’m playing music to be a prick.

He actually slammed through quite a lot of vodka shots. Probably 9 or 10 along with a little KB, butterscotch schnapps and goon. No vomit. Hurrah!

palmy’s going to give me some videos and photos he took, so you can all spread the news over the intarweb.

I’m planning on going off to get my backpack today. Hopefully I’ll be able to find the MLC centre and pick up a sexy travel adapter because I want it.

Strangely enough, I’ve started to use the to-do list on my mobile phone as a reminder of the other odds and ends I want to get through before I leave in … 15 days! :O Fuck.

This phone burns through fucking batteries. I bought a new one off eBay and it still dies after about 15 hours of moderate use. What the hell’s with that? Maybe I’ll be able to nab another one O/S or just before I leave. Lucky I have a spare battery, but Jesus.

I found out that palmy was planning a surprise going away party for me. Unfortunately I fucked it up by accident as he didn’t realise I had other plans for that day. That’s the risk of surprise parties, I guess. I probably won’t have a chance to see as many people now, but meh.

I have fuzzy hair growing from my head hair down the sides of my neck and it’s quite long and it shits me. I need to tidy up the back of my hair a bit. Fascinating, I know.

Last night we saw an X-box with a controller in a pawn shop for $150. If I gave a shit/wasn’t leaving I’d be tempted to buy it for that kind of price. Tempted.

My hair’s long. I look like a wild man. Maybe it’s the beard assisting. Bushy. Brr. I’m impersonating Ryan Reynolds in Blade 3 but without the vampire slaying. I still have the weapons.

I really should use a dictionary. God damn it.

Crap.

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13

The hot water tap in my shower broke so that it won’t turn off. I’ve decided that’s a good enough reason to not go to work. I managed to turn off the water main which is conveniently located inside the wall beside the front door, behind a panel held on by four screws that take approximately 2 minutes each to remove. I’m not built to be a handyman.

Heli and Krista have returned to Sydney in preparation for their departure back home next week. Ross wove a web of deceit around all of us so that we all bumped into each other “accidentally” at Subway last night without telling anyone what was actually happening. I was meant to meet up with them again tonight on my break at work with palmy but I’ve graciously decided to let him fly this one solo so that I can stay home.

Staying home is actually going to be more work than if I really did go to work. This place is really quite a disgusting mess. It’s messy enough that it’s just depressing trying to comprehend cleaning the place, if you know what I mean. I suppose I’ll have to make some effort very shortly if I’m to evade the painful whine of my father when he arrives.

I’ve been procrastinating well enough that I have a big fat list of things I’m meant to (and can completely) do tomorrow. They’re all relatively boring tasks, mostly related to tying up loose ends. Things not really worth mentioning except for future reference so that when I whinge about not having done them you’ll understand when I was planning to do it. I hope that made sense.

Today I went on a little splurge on eBay and ordered some accessories for my new (inherited) phone from palmy. Just a spare battery, USB charger, headset, red cover and a car charger for my iPod. AUD$25.28 + $11.90 express postage (including $2 insurance). Cheap. On Monday I bought a data cable for the phone from Hong Kong, too. Now I just have to work out an efficient way to cram it all this shit into my bag. My survival kits rock. I bought a acrylic “unbreakable” mirror that slots in beautifully. Vanity, here I come!

Speaking of bags, I believe I’ll be getting one of these from somewhere. I played with one in Paddy Pallin’s on Kent Street on Sunday. They’re pretty hunky. Oh, the fun I’ll have living out of a bag!

I still need to book accommodation in Paris. Technically that’s on my list of things to do tomorrow, but I figured it’s something interesting to share. I figured I’d spoil myself and avoid hostels for the first couple of nights, just to get familiar with everything and recover from the 29 hour trip. It’d also be nice to have my own room to sink into and cry inside of when I realise I’m all alone and can’t speak French.

palmy’s moving out soon. I don’t know when. Neither does he. Probably the week I depart. I wonder how he’ll cope back at home? I’m sure he’ll complain about it to me. At least when he’s gone I won’t find tools that he hasn’t put back in the toolbox lying around all over the place, or every glass in the flat left somewhere, or empty drink bottles rinsed out and dumped in the sink, or containers of Thai takeaway sitting on the kitchen counter, or breakfast bowls left on the coffee table, or boxes and his uni shit left all over the computer room floor, or other crap I haven’t thought of. I feel better now. I won’t when I still have to take out the garbage on my own again while he’s playing Counter-Strike or World of Warcraft. Don’t worry if you’re reading this palmy, you know I’ll be over it in no time.

Things with Emily are going well. Too well, in fact. It’s really going to suck when I leave. One of her co-workers keeps hitting on her and it’s pissing her off. I got to meet him the other day. He’s a deadshit. I keep thinking his name is Gil. How appropriate.

While I’m on the topic of deadshits, apparently I am. It seems I made (what my hazy memory tells me) a good-natured drunken comment somewhere on the Internet that caused a lot more grief than I expected a standard passing comment to make. Oh well, shit happens.

Blargh.

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6

This keyboard sucks hairy, sweaty balls. Hot.

Never go wireless, kiddies.

First night out to the Townie for a long time. Just been out with palmy, enjoying getting drunk and smoking Winfields (don’t tell mum). Fuck this keyboard makes me want to cry.

We got free cheese twists from the bakery tonight. palmy paid for a cheese and bacon bun/loaf thingy each, too. Somehow we managed to nab a throwaway sourdough loaf, too. Good times.

I’m drunk. Like the olden days. I really should go to bed as it’s 5:20am. 5:22am to be precise. Meh.

I leave in just over 4 weeks. Anyone going to miss me? I suppose most of you won’t notice, especially since I’ve been somewhat offline lately. Partly pussy-whipped, partly no keyboard. Whatever.

I’m going to continue updating this LJ during my travels, as I’m too lazy to set up a gay travelling blog anywhere else in the meantime. I might check out travelpod, but I’m not that keen on it. Lazy, etc. I’m sure you’ll all be riveted to know what lame shit I’ve been up to.

In other news, my pussy whipping of spending time with Emily is fun, as most men know but hate to admit. Actually, it’s only fair that I confess that I would have updated/been online more if not for my broken keyboard, but that sounds like a weak excuse. Anyway…

Palmy’s addicted to World of Warcraft again. Fag.

I’m too drunk to care and he knows it.

Yay.

I’ve been listening to more music. Synthpop is the best. I’m very into De/Vision and Fischerspooner (just the Odyssey album, especially “Cloud” these days ;)) at the moment. Pirate them if you want a thrill.

Tally ho until the next time, lovelies.