I always forget about the extremes of economy travel. Couped-up in a plastic cocoon, fed semi-regularly, and deprived of sleep, comfort, and privacy. In return, you are transported from lower case point "a", to upper case point "B" - a transformation from the humdrum, the known, the safe, to the unknown, the uncertain.
So here I find myself, Madelene, and Freebs, a little over 24 hours since arriving from dusty, delayed, and dry Doha, sitting in a (literally) red apartment in the uber-fashionable Le Marais district of Paris. That'd be Paris with a capital AWESOME.
I won't bore you with details of the horrid journey, as the destination has more than made up for it. Mind you though, as I tucked into a chicken kebab and chips last night, having slept about four of the last 36 hours, I really was wondering what the Hell I was doing leaving wet and cold Melbourne, and flying to France, where I knew none of the language, only a cliched version of the culture, and was filled with the great uncertainty of overseas travel.
Then I had a beer.
Suddenly the world came back into focus. My anxiety lifted, and the chicken kebab became the finest meal I could recall. Sleep deprivation will do that to you. Oh the honesty of a hoppy elixir to bring one to one's senses.
Suffice it to say, after knocking back a traditional breakfast of coffee, baguette, and croissant this morning, your three happy campers ventured out of Le Marais, and into the streets of Paris. Our appointment was with that tower you've all heard of, and between us and it, was the incredible.
We hit Rue de Rivoli, and headed East. And we just kept on walking. I know Freebs had a map, but personally I felt like I was being drawn in the right direction - kind of like when you take the plug out of a bath, the water can only go one way. I didn't think about it much, just kept on walking, and the next thing I know, the three of us are standing in a virtually empty Louvre forecourt.
I mean empty.
There was no one really around at all. Just us, the scammers, and the first of a few eager tourists.
That's the other thing we learnt. Nothing happens too early in Paris, so being on a mission, we'd left home early, and inadvertently beat the crowds. Best I write that lesson down, because as the hours passed, the crowds started to build up, and before we knew it, there were hundreds of people everywhere.
Next stop, the Champs-Élysées, which started off tree-lined, with loads of public space, and ended with Chapel Street on steroids, and this unassuming little thing called the Arc de Triomphe. Wow! How big? If you've only seen it on TV, then you haven't really seen it at all.
From there, with the sun blazing on a beautiful autumnal afternoon, was our hot date with the great one. A couple of wrong turns had us heading a little out of our way, but there was no way that Mad, Freebs or I would possibly allow ourselves to get lost looking for the most obvious and visible landmark in the world.
As we headed for the Trocadéro (OK, sure, we ended up asking for directions - thanks Mad), Freebs made the comment, that as soon as we saw the splendid Eiffel Tower, that we'd hear angels harmonizing, and you know what? She wasn't too far off.
As the tower came into view, I'm sure I could hear the angelic calling of cherubs, because this sucker is just incredible. And large.
We had our lift tickets pre-booked for months, so we had the pleasure of joining the short queue, and an hour or so later, after having my personal space invaded by pushy Germans, (or were they Salvic?), I was hugging the walls, trying to convince myself that there was no way I could fall of this thing.
The panoramic views of Paris one gets from the top of the tower are well worth the planning and the queuing, and the running the gauntlet of pick-pockets. It sounds like a cliche, but if you've been up to the very top of the tower, you'll know what I'm talking about. Amazing.
After this, I can honestly say that the ladies and I were spent, so after a late lunch, some drinks, and some people-watching, we headed home via the 72 bus, and found ourselves back in Le Marais.
This has just been the beginning, but even after just 24 hours in this city, I can honestly say that all three of us feel far more oriented, far more comfortable, and far more blistered than when the day started.
Bon Soir Paris, and we'll see what feasts you provide for us tomorrow.
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