When in Paris, get lost. And then lost again.
Okay, fine, we haven't been that lost, but it definitely hasn't been easy.
Here's how the adventure began:
We flew RyanAir from Dublin to Paris, and I checked into our flight the morning before our late evening flight. Mistake number one
When we arrived our boarding passes on our phones would not work (keep in mind we were also kind of late to the airport because we had to see the Bog people in Dublin). So, we wait in line at customer service and find out we have to reprint our passes, it will be 15 euros a ticket, eek!
But, I guess, we looked pathetic enough that the customers service lady said she would waive it if we had copies of the tickets on our phone, Jake miraculously found copies, and she began to print them for us.
She then asked us to step to the side and wait. And we waited. And waited. And the system was down, she finally hands us tickets. They are handwritten, but, hey, they spelled Lehenbauer right.
We plow through security, who is sketched by our tickets and debates on letting us through. We RUN through the GIANT Dublin airport and arrive at our gate.
There's no plane. And the flight is delayed thirty minutes.
We board the plane and for an hour and fifteen minutes sit with our knees on our chins and finally arrive in Pairs!
But, wait, there's more!
The airport we flew into is an hour and a half away from Paris (oops!). So we realize we need to board a bus and that we will be three hours later arriving than what we told our host.
We also realize our credit card doesn't really work in any machine in Paris, so we can't actually buy the bus ticket that we need to buy to get on the bus we have to take to get into Paris.
We decide we will plead with the bus driver. We walk outside and there's a lady that takes cash and normal credit cards. We board the bus.
Once on the bus we are desperate for wifi to call our host. We ask our French speaking neighbors if we can use their phone, they happily allow us and speak English. New friends!
They even offer to help us navigate the metro and the city and help us get to our home for the night.
We hike through the city with our new friends, who speak English because they like to watch Game of Thrones, and they tell us which lines to take. We board one subway, and then transfer to a new platform for the final ride home.
Keep in mind it's almost 2 a.m., and there's some sketchy Paris inhabitants cruising around. While we have giant packs on our back and look VERY American.
A lady walks through the station and simply screams at us "FINISHED." The metro has ended for the night. There will be no more trains.
We walk out of the station. I look at Jake and we get in a cab. He takes us the long way home for a ridiculous rate and we finally arrive at our flat, which looks more like a garage door and there's some unlikable characters looming about.
When we arrived in Barcelona, we told a French woman where we stayed and she said, "oh my god" and covered her mouth. She also said we were lucky to not be robbed .
Upon approaching the garage door, we realize we can not get in the door. We need a phone to call our host to meet us downstairs.
"Umm, hello, can we use your phone?"
Just found out the cab driver spoke English the entire ride.
We call sweet Remy, and home we are. Not the most luxurious home. There may or may not have been a hole in the wall and mold in the shower. But we had a bed and place to put our giant bags down.
I'll take it.
First impressions of Paris were dirty, exhausting and unreliable. But they soon changed, after of course, food and friends.