So Paris was a truly awesome trip. Totally 10 outta 10 for the time I had there - the only downside being not enough time!
I really miss the Boy, but that goes pretty much without saying. Post-Paris the yearning is worse though. I think we're both suffering from separation anxiety. It's the good kind tho, cos we're both feeling it. More to the point, we're going through it together, so it's not really anxiety - just separation sickness if you will.
So I've also come back from Paris with some stories that I thought would be interesting to share. Better I write it down now before I forget and these priceless gems are lost forever in the murky waters that are my memories. Not that they aren't important, but they are probably going to be overwritten by funnier, exciting holiday memories in the future.
So here we go:
The hotel
We stayed in Pacific Hotel in the Montmarte area of Paris. Not the safest place but I wasn't alone so I felt alright. It different travelling with friends or family but with the Boy I get defensively lazy. Which I shouldn't but it's nice to feel like you can relax on holiday.
We took the metro to Porte de Cilgaincourt (Line 4) and then had the tough time of finding our way to the hotel from there. This is at about 9pm at night and it was raining so no mean feat. The Boy took the lead - as you know, I'm hopeless with directions - and we began walking. In the wrong direction. In the rain.
I place no blame. If he hadn't walked in that direction I probably would have too. However, I was the one who said "Yeah, it's raining. Ask the guy in the shop where the heck we are." And voila, we were walking in the wrong direction.
Well we found the hotel. It's a lot nicer than the dorms Chern and I stayed in when we went across Europe.
The Boy talked to the guy at the desk. In French! Like a local. I was glowing with pride. Ah...
Anyway, turns out that the hotel had overbooked our hotel room type.
We booked and paid for our hotel room online. We paid for an economic double room - which means only a double bed in a room. We would have to share a bathroom, but we didn't mind that. It was 45 euros per night for a double room, 180 euros in total for the 4 nights. These numbers become important later in the story ;)
I managed to catch the concerned expression on both the receptionist and the Boy's face. I was beginning to worry.
Then I caught the words "chambre" and "change". Oh?
Turns out, because they had been overbooked, they were going to upgrade our room for 2 nights! We would have to change rooms on the 3rd and 4th night. But so what! We got an upgrade!
The guy did mention that we would have to pay 40/14 euros. As I've said, we paid in full already. The Boy managed to sort it out and tell the guy that we paid in full. He looked at our papers (email print outs) and said ok. Hey, we do things right ok!
So we got an upgrade for 2 nights!
Room 309: Double bed, en suite bathroom - shower, toilet and sink and kitchenette!
If i wasn't so tired, I would have squealed even louder :)
Day 2 (Monday) we had to pack our stuff and bring it downstairs so that when we got back that night, we could move into our new room.
Epic drama.
We got back on Monday night at about 9.30/10pm as we normally do. I spoke to the guy at the front desk. He had already had some trouble with a previous group who was talking to him before us - they were without a room for the day when they checked-in that afternoon. After he sorted their rooms out, I told him that we were told to change rooms. I got stuck with my "French" so the Boy chimed in to help explain.
We got assigned a room. A single bed bedroom.
The Boy and I were confused/puzzled/angry. What the heck? We paid for a double room. We should get a double room. The Boy talked to the guy at the front desk again. He told us that there were no more rooms left.
Virtual slap in the face. I was resigned to the fact that we would have to share a single bed or something like that. The Boy suggested we push the mattress off onto the floor beside the bed and he'll sleep on the bed frame. It was a solid flat bed frame, not like grills or anything, so I said ok if he was sure. We asked the front desk guy for extra blankets, bedsheets and pillows which were promptly given to us.
We were in the process of making up/down the bed(s) when we heard a knock on the door. The Boy was closest to the door but had to quickly up his jeans over his boxers and answer it.
It was the guy from the front desk again.
With a room key.
For a double bed bedroom.
I could have kissed him. But the Boy was in the way, and I didn't.
Room 205: double bed and en suite shower, toilet and sink. And the shower was bigger than the last one!
The last couple of nights in Paris were spent rolling around in a room we didn't actually pay for.
NB. The first room with the kitchenette normally goes for about 100 euros per night. The Double with the en suite bathroom would probably go for about 60-70 euros per night. We got a bargain!
I knew before hand that the hotel had some management and room allocation issues. I read about them in the reviews. This is one time I'm glad things didn't go as planned :D
Shakespeare and Company Bookstore
I should do more research on this place but as far as I can glean from the Boy's excited yelps, this bookstore was featured in a major motion picture, to set the scene in Paris. So famous it was. And although part of it was covered in scaffolding, there were more than enough tourists to prove his point.
Well the Boy went in to have a sniff around. I followed suit. He spotted a neat fabric bag with a graphic of the bookstore's shopfront printed on it. It was printed as if it were drawn or painted on the bag. Very nice. And only 10 euros.
So natch the Boy eagerly got in line and waited his turn to ask the cashier for the book bag. As he was waiting, he spotted the Company's postcard and picked it up to buy and send off.
The Cashier, bless her soul, was a bit thrown by this.
At first she thought the Boy just wanted to buy the postcard. So she rung it up on the till.
She asked the Boy for 1 euro (The price of the postcard). He gave her the 50 euro note I had given him earlier that day cos I owed him for the hotel room.
Then the Boy told her he wanted to buy the bag as well. Shouldn't be a problem right? Well she tried ringing it up on the till but It wouldn't work.
She got flustered. She couldn't get the bag price right. And she was holding a 50 euro note! I know it's a lot of money but it's not something that should put you off.
Then the Boy gave her 1 euro to pay for the postcard so he wouldn't get something and 9 euros in change. Notes are lighter than coins after all.
She said ok, I give you back your 40 euros first. And she did.
And then rang up the bag again. Because it wouldn't register the first time.
Then she handed put down 2 twenties on the counter. Again. As our change.
I feel guilty just typing this.
Well all in all, I did try to return the money. But I had the opposite of Jimminy Cricket with me so we took it and ran.
Granted, that windfall saved me quite a bit of cash.
Now we shall never mention this again.
* * *
On a more lighter note, I left Paris with much more than memories and good stories. I actually got stuff:
Remember that glass from Saint-Etienne that I blogged about a few weeks ago? The one that fell off the dresser and broke.
Well I told the Boy, he went "oh".
And then at the Gare du Nord train station in Paris he gave me this:
I really miss the Boy, but that goes pretty much without saying. Post-Paris the yearning is worse though. I think we're both suffering from separation anxiety. It's the good kind tho, cos we're both feeling it. More to the point, we're going through it together, so it's not really anxiety - just separation sickness if you will.
So I've also come back from Paris with some stories that I thought would be interesting to share. Better I write it down now before I forget and these priceless gems are lost forever in the murky waters that are my memories. Not that they aren't important, but they are probably going to be overwritten by funnier, exciting holiday memories in the future.
So here we go:
The hotel
We stayed in Pacific Hotel in the Montmarte area of Paris. Not the safest place but I wasn't alone so I felt alright. It different travelling with friends or family but with the Boy I get defensively lazy. Which I shouldn't but it's nice to feel like you can relax on holiday.
We took the metro to Porte de Cilgaincourt (Line 4) and then had the tough time of finding our way to the hotel from there. This is at about 9pm at night and it was raining so no mean feat. The Boy took the lead - as you know, I'm hopeless with directions - and we began walking. In the wrong direction. In the rain.
I place no blame. If he hadn't walked in that direction I probably would have too. However, I was the one who said "Yeah, it's raining. Ask the guy in the shop where the heck we are." And voila, we were walking in the wrong direction.
Well we found the hotel. It's a lot nicer than the dorms Chern and I stayed in when we went across Europe.
The Boy talked to the guy at the desk. In French! Like a local. I was glowing with pride. Ah...
Anyway, turns out that the hotel had overbooked our hotel room type.
We booked and paid for our hotel room online. We paid for an economic double room - which means only a double bed in a room. We would have to share a bathroom, but we didn't mind that. It was 45 euros per night for a double room, 180 euros in total for the 4 nights. These numbers become important later in the story ;)
I managed to catch the concerned expression on both the receptionist and the Boy's face. I was beginning to worry.
Then I caught the words "chambre" and "change". Oh?
Turns out, because they had been overbooked, they were going to upgrade our room for 2 nights! We would have to change rooms on the 3rd and 4th night. But so what! We got an upgrade!
The guy did mention that we would have to pay 40/14 euros. As I've said, we paid in full already. The Boy managed to sort it out and tell the guy that we paid in full. He looked at our papers (email print outs) and said ok. Hey, we do things right ok!
So we got an upgrade for 2 nights!
Room 309: Double bed, en suite bathroom - shower, toilet and sink and kitchenette!
If i wasn't so tired, I would have squealed even louder :)
Day 2 (Monday) we had to pack our stuff and bring it downstairs so that when we got back that night, we could move into our new room.
Epic drama.
We got back on Monday night at about 9.30/10pm as we normally do. I spoke to the guy at the front desk. He had already had some trouble with a previous group who was talking to him before us - they were without a room for the day when they checked-in that afternoon. After he sorted their rooms out, I told him that we were told to change rooms. I got stuck with my "French" so the Boy chimed in to help explain.
We got assigned a room. A single bed bedroom.
The Boy and I were confused/puzzled/angry. What the heck? We paid for a double room. We should get a double room. The Boy talked to the guy at the front desk again. He told us that there were no more rooms left.
Virtual slap in the face. I was resigned to the fact that we would have to share a single bed or something like that. The Boy suggested we push the mattress off onto the floor beside the bed and he'll sleep on the bed frame. It was a solid flat bed frame, not like grills or anything, so I said ok if he was sure. We asked the front desk guy for extra blankets, bedsheets and pillows which were promptly given to us.
We were in the process of making up/down the bed(s) when we heard a knock on the door. The Boy was closest to the door but had to quickly up his jeans over his boxers and answer it.
It was the guy from the front desk again.
With a room key.
For a double bed bedroom.
I could have kissed him. But the Boy was in the way, and I didn't.
Room 205: double bed and en suite shower, toilet and sink. And the shower was bigger than the last one!
The last couple of nights in Paris were spent rolling around in a room we didn't actually pay for.
NB. The first room with the kitchenette normally goes for about 100 euros per night. The Double with the en suite bathroom would probably go for about 60-70 euros per night. We got a bargain!
I knew before hand that the hotel had some management and room allocation issues. I read about them in the reviews. This is one time I'm glad things didn't go as planned :D
Shakespeare and Company Bookstore
I should do more research on this place but as far as I can glean from the Boy's excited yelps, this bookstore was featured in a major motion picture, to set the scene in Paris. So famous it was. And although part of it was covered in scaffolding, there were more than enough tourists to prove his point.
Well the Boy went in to have a sniff around. I followed suit. He spotted a neat fabric bag with a graphic of the bookstore's shopfront printed on it. It was printed as if it were drawn or painted on the bag. Very nice. And only 10 euros.
So natch the Boy eagerly got in line and waited his turn to ask the cashier for the book bag. As he was waiting, he spotted the Company's postcard and picked it up to buy and send off.
The Cashier, bless her soul, was a bit thrown by this.
At first she thought the Boy just wanted to buy the postcard. So she rung it up on the till.
She asked the Boy for 1 euro (The price of the postcard). He gave her the 50 euro note I had given him earlier that day cos I owed him for the hotel room.
Then the Boy told her he wanted to buy the bag as well. Shouldn't be a problem right? Well she tried ringing it up on the till but It wouldn't work.
She got flustered. She couldn't get the bag price right. And she was holding a 50 euro note! I know it's a lot of money but it's not something that should put you off.
Then the Boy gave her 1 euro to pay for the postcard so he wouldn't get something and 9 euros in change. Notes are lighter than coins after all.
She said ok, I give you back your 40 euros first. And she did.
And then rang up the bag again. Because it wouldn't register the first time.
Then she handed put down 2 twenties on the counter. Again. As our change.
I feel guilty just typing this.
Well all in all, I did try to return the money. But I had the opposite of Jimminy Cricket with me so we took it and ran.
Granted, that windfall saved me quite a bit of cash.
Now we shall never mention this again.
* * *
On a more lighter note, I left Paris with much more than memories and good stories. I actually got stuff:
Remember that glass from Saint-Etienne that I blogged about a few weeks ago? The one that fell off the dresser and broke.
Well I told the Boy, he went "oh".
And then at the Gare du Nord train station in Paris he gave me this:
And I am not putting this on my dresser. It stays on solid surfaces from now on. It is as shiny as it looks and has a panther on the back.
And I don't suppose anyone remembers the dark patch during Christmas break when the Boy was roaming Europe with his brother while I was left moping and sulking in Cardiff? Yeah, well they roamed through Barcelona and the Boy picked this ring up for me:
Arsty fartsy as he describes it. My heart stopped a beat when I read the word "ring" on MSN chat. Thank god for artsy fartsy. It's silver too! And a little too big for my fingers. So I need to get me some silver polish and find a ring resizer. I'm not normally a ring wearer but it's awfully pretty and at least now I have a reason to wear one haha! Sort of a forced accessorising :P I showed it to the BVC girls when we were at Melody's place for chicken curry, lemak rice and wine. They approve! Though I like it much more for the sentiment behind it. Bonus is that silver lasts for, well, ever. And the band is really thick so it won't wear away easily. Plus and plus.
Day 3 of Paris it rained like the heavens' bladder was bursting. Both the umbrellas we had broke. I didn't have a hood. The Boy was only protected by his Law football hoody. Basically we were wet. Jeans especially. We hid for a while until the rain lightened up then we went for a stroll down to the Ile de la Cite, heading towards Pont Neuf (the boat ride, remember?).
It was drizzling non-stop so we headed towards the post office to get stamps and post our postcards that we had written. I had wrapped my scarf around my head because of the rain and was angrily miserable by this point. Grrr, darn rain.
One of the perks of a tourist city is that there are plenty of reasons to duck into shops when the clouds feel incontinent.
One of the shops I ducked into was a quaint little artsy fartsy shop. Not a pure souvenir shop but it did sell touristy things. But one thing it did sell were these cute glasses cases.
I had lost mine back when I went to London for the KPUM Debate. I'm pretty sure it's in my room somewhere, but for the life of me, I can't find it.
Well as I was browsing round that same shop, so was the Boy. I showed him the glasses case and he liked it!
I had bought him a toilet paper dispenser from a shop earlier that day that he had been eying/crazing/lusting after since the first time he saw it. I told him that I'd want to get him something that he wanted but not necessarily needed but would use and like. That's my policy for gifts.
Well the Boy recited my policy back to me and said ok, I'll get it for you. It wasn't that expensive so I said ok. Then we wandered around the shop a bit longer when the Boy pointed out some cute fibre bags. You know, the ones made out of the same material as the Tesco brown reusable bags? I like the material because it's durable, it's solid and it's doesn't get affected by water. And by that I mean it doesn't get soggy.
He was ribbing me about some teeny tiny bags when he saw a bigger, double coloured bag.
Grey on one side and pink on the other with a mushroom design. It had a round base and leather handles. I agreed, very cute. He loved it. You should get it, he said. I looked at the price. I countered, I don't think it's worth that much. I'll chip in, it's really nice he said. I hmmmed and said, no, I don't think it's worth it for that price.
I thought, yeah, I can live without another bag. Sure it's cute and useful and pretty but I can resist.
We paused and looked at the bag. For the last time I thought.
I'll get it for your birthday then, he said.
*my jaw dropped*
"Are you sure?" I said.
"Yes." the Boy said without taking his eyes off the bag. "It's colourful and practical and it suits you."
He then turned to the shop assistant and asked her to get it off the line it was hanging from.
So long story short, it's resting in my room now. It's been down the streets of Paris, in a boat on the Seine, on the Eurostar, across London, and it took a return trip to Melody's house (so I could show it off hehe).
It's awfully pretty though, isn't it?
* * *
When I got back, it was only then I noticed these strange marks:
Don't worry, dear blog readers, I haven't been abused or anything.
I suppose another souvenir from Paris.
* * *
Finally, big love to the Boy. For all the memories. For all the things that I've asked of you and for all the things I haven't. I hope you enjoy the toilet paper dispenser and I hope it makes you smile when you look at it, the same way it makes me smile to think of you pulling tissue paper from a giant olive oil bottle :D
I don't know if the post-Paris texts and messages will continue as frequently down the line but I hope they will and you know I mean every word of them.
Je t'aime, mon amour.
Day 3 of Paris it rained like the heavens' bladder was bursting. Both the umbrellas we had broke. I didn't have a hood. The Boy was only protected by his Law football hoody. Basically we were wet. Jeans especially. We hid for a while until the rain lightened up then we went for a stroll down to the Ile de la Cite, heading towards Pont Neuf (the boat ride, remember?).
It was drizzling non-stop so we headed towards the post office to get stamps and post our postcards that we had written. I had wrapped my scarf around my head because of the rain and was angrily miserable by this point. Grrr, darn rain.
One of the perks of a tourist city is that there are plenty of reasons to duck into shops when the clouds feel incontinent.
One of the shops I ducked into was a quaint little artsy fartsy shop. Not a pure souvenir shop but it did sell touristy things. But one thing it did sell were these cute glasses cases.
I had lost mine back when I went to London for the KPUM Debate. I'm pretty sure it's in my room somewhere, but for the life of me, I can't find it.
Well as I was browsing round that same shop, so was the Boy. I showed him the glasses case and he liked it!
I had bought him a toilet paper dispenser from a shop earlier that day that he had been eying/crazing/lusting after since the first time he saw it. I told him that I'd want to get him something that he wanted but not necessarily needed but would use and like. That's my policy for gifts.
Well the Boy recited my policy back to me and said ok, I'll get it for you. It wasn't that expensive so I said ok. Then we wandered around the shop a bit longer when the Boy pointed out some cute fibre bags. You know, the ones made out of the same material as the Tesco brown reusable bags? I like the material because it's durable, it's solid and it's doesn't get affected by water. And by that I mean it doesn't get soggy.
He was ribbing me about some teeny tiny bags when he saw a bigger, double coloured bag.
Grey on one side and pink on the other with a mushroom design. It had a round base and leather handles. I agreed, very cute. He loved it. You should get it, he said. I looked at the price. I countered, I don't think it's worth that much. I'll chip in, it's really nice he said. I hmmmed and said, no, I don't think it's worth it for that price.
I thought, yeah, I can live without another bag. Sure it's cute and useful and pretty but I can resist.
We paused and looked at the bag. For the last time I thought.
I'll get it for your birthday then, he said.
*my jaw dropped*
"Are you sure?" I said.
"Yes." the Boy said without taking his eyes off the bag. "It's colourful and practical and it suits you."
He then turned to the shop assistant and asked her to get it off the line it was hanging from.
So long story short, it's resting in my room now. It's been down the streets of Paris, in a boat on the Seine, on the Eurostar, across London, and it took a return trip to Melody's house (so I could show it off hehe).
It's awfully pretty though, isn't it?
When we were considering it I was going on about how I would use it to go to Lidl and buy milk (yumm). How I would use it instead of my Tesco bag - cos it's a bit big and floppy sometimes.
I will go shopping with it soon!
I will go shopping with it soon!
Oh, and I paid for the glasses myself. Seeing as the Boy paid for the bag.
* * *
When I got back, it was only then I noticed these strange marks:
It's three little dots and a smear of a bruise, not the birthmark higher up. I have no idea how I got them and they don't even hurt. I don't remember doing anything that would have caused something like that but I'm clumsy so who knows.
Don't worry, dear blog readers, I haven't been abused or anything.
I suppose another souvenir from Paris.
* * *
Finally, big love to the Boy. For all the memories. For all the things that I've asked of you and for all the things I haven't. I hope you enjoy the toilet paper dispenser and I hope it makes you smile when you look at it, the same way it makes me smile to think of you pulling tissue paper from a giant olive oil bottle :D
I don't know if the post-Paris texts and messages will continue as frequently down the line but I hope they will and you know I mean every word of them.
Je t'aime, mon amour.
