62kg of Stupidity  - 62kg de Idiotice
Autor: Christy  Shine McHale | Publicado: 2013-01-27T17:50:00-08:00

It is&nbsp;6:00 am&nbsp;here in Paris and I just can't sleep so I snuck out to Tom's bathroom and am writing all that has happened to me in this great city which is called Paris!!!



Let's start from the very beginning. After many long hours on the plane the captain announces that we are getting near to our destination:PARIS!! The plane starts to descend and magnificent views start appearing before my very eye: lush green hills, straight fields of wheat, tall trees with golden brown leaves, castles, cute cozy French cottages and then the River Seine. The feeling of joy and beauty is too big to describe and I become overwhelmed! "OMG! This is happening to me - I am in Paris!!!" The plane goes up and ascends over the white fluffy clouds- the sun shines over them giving me another splendid view. Nothing can be more beautiful than this.



Once out of the plane I go off to baggage claim and am delightfully happy that no bag has gone missing and nothing has been taken from inside of them - after hearing this story from many students of mine that was one of my fears.&nbsp;



Tourist information sector was next. I had written the address I was going to in my iPhone but yet when I retrieved my iPhone to be able to show it to the young French lady in front of me and receive some directions I see the battery has totally died down. Ok - off to find a plug to recharge my battery to get the address to make it to my final destination. Unfortunately that proved to be quite the chore and that is when I started using my very badly pronounced and limited French.&nbsp;

- Excusez-moi. Parlez vous Anglais?&nbsp;

It started out with only those 5 words. Over and over I repeated them until I found my way to the wi-fi /cell phone plugs area. Once again I was terribly disappointed to not have any free Internet to use and since I needed to get in touch with my host Tom to let him know I would arrive later than planned at Hoche subway station I gave in and paid 2 euros (a much cheaper price compared to Portugal) for 30 minutes of Internet which turned out to be only seven as the Internet connection would fall every 30 seconds. Well at least I got done what needed to get done.&nbsp;

Lesson no. 1: Always charge your phone before a long trip. Or write the address in a&nbsp;piece&nbsp;of paper...

Next was a BIG challenge! Transport 3 bags&nbsp;equaling&nbsp;62 kilos in total from ORLY airport to Hoche subway station. Get yourself a map of Paris and you will see how they are totally in opposite directions. Once again using my five special words I was able to buy a pass for about 10 euros and hop on to the OrlyVal (the subway line that takes you from the airport to a subway station inside Paris since ORLY Airport is on the outskirts of the city) tugging my absurd amount of luggage along. Off the OrlyVal started the real trouble.&nbsp;
Firstly I needed to get my baggage through the turnstile and that already proved to be quite the challenge as my bag was too thick to go through it and too heavy for me to pick it up. Going crazy trying to make my huge red bag go through for almost five minutes I turn exasperated to the French security guard who was laughing at me beneath his breath and pointed him my suitcase forcing him to help me out.&nbsp;
As the subway arrived I entered first with my backpack and handbag yet I had barely got to put them on a seat when I hear the sound of the subway doors closing, turn around and see a man jump, grab my suitcase and pull it inside just as soon as the doors closed shut. What a relief! I have never used the words Merci and Merci Beaucoup so much nonstop while the man just looked at me&nbsp;and smiled back.&nbsp;
After the scare having passed the next problem was getting out of the totally full subway with my huge amount of bags in time before the doors closing on my luggage. Right in front of me there was a negro woman (yes, there are plenty in Paris!) whom I approached in my horrid French showing her on the map I had where I needed to get to. With her limited English she told me I needed to get off at the very next stop and since I had so many bags with me she would help me out. As soon as we left the subway I found myself at none other than Gare du Nord where I had the shock of my life.&nbsp;
Dirt, beggars, foodstalls, swarms of people - and definitely not the kind of people I was expecting to see in Paris! From Indians to yellow skinned Eastern Europeans, tanned Turks and&nbsp;Negros&nbsp;- LOTS of them!!! It felt like I was back in Bahia.&nbsp;
But I didn't have much time to take it all in as I would like to as the woman with me soon started call out to me, tugging my little red bag while I died under the heavy weight of my backpack and suitcase. As soon as I started to lag behind she would call out to me "Aller vite aller" (Go, quick, go!) forcing me to pick up my pace while she continued nodding her head in disapproval at what a fool I was. I had told her in the subway that I wanted to get a taxi as to get to my host's house I would need to change subway lines twice more and&nbsp;after my first scare I was not going to risk loosing my suitcase again.&nbsp;


This amazing woman walked with me for literally 20 minutes - up and down stairs (while she asked huge random negro men to carry my suitcase up for me), in and out of doors, sidewalks and getting me out of the huge maze only people who have been to Gare du Nord know it is. Finally we made it outside and to the taxis. In my broken French I offered to pay her a taxi home as way of expressing my huge gratitude in her helping me out. She looks at me a bit angry, grabs the piece of paper in my hand with my host's address and starts talking to the taxi man in what seems like she is bargaining. She then opens her purse and starts taking some money out. It is only then that I notice that she understood that I wanted her to pay MY taxi!!! I run to her and after lots of hand motions, loose French words and facial expressions she understands my&nbsp;initial offer. She then refuses&nbsp;adamantly my paying her a taxi home, gives me her phone number so I can call her and I thank her with a huge hug from the bottom of my heart.
Inside the taxi I gave a sigh of relief thinking now all I needed was to arrive at my host's place. I was soo wrong! My taxi driver was a thin, gaunt negro with an obviously bad mood who spoke just a dozen words in English. He started making his way to the address written on the slip of paper I had given and I started chatting with him using my dozen French words. When I told him I was Brazilian he was very happy and asked about soccer (of course!). He then told me he was from&nbsp;Madagascar&nbsp;(total shock!) and how his family had come to Paris when he was young looking for work. He then asked me what was my religion but before I could answer a&nbsp;Muslim&nbsp;woman covered from head to toe in a black burqa crossed the street. I had never seen a woman in Brazil covered from head to toe - this was an image from watching the news or reading a newspaper - and I couldn't help but let out a gasp and ask the taxi driver: "Est-ce normal?" (Is this normal?) while I pointed to the woman. He instantly turned his head and answered me: "Of course this is normal! I am Muslim as well!!!" Quickly trying to remedy the situation I answered: " -Ahh...La femme est très belle, trés jolie!" &nbsp;He looked at me through the review mirror with a "yeah right!" expression on his face and continued driving.&nbsp;
- This is it. Here is the street! Which number is it that you want to go to? He pulls up on a street and looks at me.&nbsp;
- The number that is on the paper I gave you with the address.
He hands me the paper and says: - There is no number on this paper. Your friend just wrote down the name of the street and the postal code. Without the number of the apartment I can't take you there.&nbsp;
- OMG! I was sure this postal code number was the actual number of my friend's apartment.
- Well do you have his phone number? Just give him a call.
- I do have his number but it's on my Facebook and my cellphone is from Brazil so I have no internet on my cellphone so I can't enter my Facebook&nbsp;to get his number to call him.
The taxi driver looked at me like as if I were the biggest idiot in the whole universe and asked me: - So what are you going to do now? Want me to drop you off here?
- Noooo!!! We need to find a place with internet that I can use so I can enter my Facebook and get his phone number.
Fortunately right on the road we had stopped was a restaurant. He parked the car on a sidewalk and I ran inside. Much to my luck I discovered that it wasn't only a restaurant but a hotel as well. I explained to the receptionist that I desperately needed to use the internet. She must have mistaken me for a guest staying in the hotel as she kindly showed me over to a computer in the main hall and told me to help myself. I quickly entered my Facebook and as I was jotting down my host's phone number all of a sudden I started shaking. Shaking, shaking, shaking.&nbsp;Uncontrollably. In a flash I noticed I had left EVERYTHING I had inside the taxi. My iPad,&nbsp;passport, professional camera, 1,000 Euros in cash, credit cards, drivers license - plus my bags with clothes, shoes and personal items. Everything was inside that cab. My blood froze and I ran out the restaurant with the phone number in my hand. I never felt so much relief flood into my soul as when I saw the cab lights stopped on the sidewalk. Only after I entered the cab I noticed how the first night of my trip could have been my last as well. Without my passport and credit cards I would have no other option but go back to Brasil.&nbsp;
I used the taxi driver's phone to call Tom (my host) who told me to stay put as he lived right across the street (we were literally parked one block from his apartment). The taxi driver pulled out my bags out of his trunk and left them on the street watching me tug them up to the restaurant's steps where I would be waiting Tom to pick me up. I was so grateful to the taxi man not having run away and taken all my things with him that I gave him a 50,00 euro bill telling him to keep the 15,00 euro change as a tip for his honesty.&nbsp;


At last Tom arrived. Tall, handsome and very French looking (even though in my opinion French men aren't usually handsome) - a total gentlemen. He helped me with my bags and took me to his Parisian little student flat. Like most all flats in Paris this one was tiny with every corner and space being used. One large rectangle: kitchen and study desk in front of his bed, in front of the bathroom a wardrobe. And you can imagine my surprise when I enter the bathroom and see it is huge!!! As I visited other Parisian apartments in the following days I noticed that this was just the way the French built their buildings. No matter how small living quarters were the bathrooms were always large and spacious.&nbsp;
Very excited to be in my first Parisian apartment I took pictures of everything new and different that I spotted with my eye: the pink toilet paper, the towel warmer (a metal rack which lets off heat in which you hang your towels to dry - after having taken your shower you have a nice warm towel to dry yourself with), removable pot handles (an amazing invention!), and on the list goes.&nbsp;
I then gave Tom a few Brazilian things I had brought for him: Brazilian CDs, cocada and doce de ameixa (coconut and plum sweets).&nbsp;
Tom cooked for me some delicious soup with melted cheese and then introduced me to what became my favorite French sweet ever: Speculoos!!! I later discovered you can find it as cookies as well - but what Tom gave me was cookie butter spooned out from a jar. I must have licked at least three spoons of Speculoos wishing there was something like this in Brazil. He also made me some nice warm tea - I later found out he did this every single night - and it's perfect as it calmed my agitated nerves down and the tiredness finally kicked in.&nbsp;
The night ended with me arguing with Tom's generosity but as always he won: I slept on his bed and he slept on a mattress on the floor.&nbsp;
After all the day's adventures here I was, safe and sound and tomorrow would be my first day in a new country. I covered myself with Tom's "The Simpson's" sheet and soon sleep found me.
Bon nuit Paris!!!&nbsp;
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