Last Mango in Paris

Ok so the title is actually a Jimmy Buffett song. Side note: Jimmy Buffett concerts are where your parents suddenly come back to life and think that they are 20 again. However, that's neither here nor there. This past weekend I had quite an eventful weekend séjour to Paris.

It began with me out the door at 630 am to catch my 8 am bus that left from central Brussels. That was fine. The buses are actually quite nice, the seats are clean and reclined. I slept most of the time on the way down. I finally awoke as we were driving through le banlieue (suburbs) of Paris. I remembered from high school french classes that all the rich people live in the city proper of Paris and not outside. Well, I was yet again reminded. Paris suburbs are straight ghetto; never somewhere I would want to find myself.

I metroed my way over to the hostel I was staying at (first hostel stay ever btw). It was nice, just an apartment retrofitted to cram in as many hipster 20-somethings as possible. It was a sweet location though, look at this view.





I finally met up with James in the middle of a bust metro station. Some lessons learned about the Paris metro:
1. The Metro is Free. Everyone below the age of 35 just hops over the metro turnstiles and squeezes past the little gate blocking you from entering (thats assuming you are skinny enough to squeeze through). Thank god they don't feed us barely any food in Belgium, I slid through with ease
2. The Metro is Dirty. Over the course of 2 days and 1 night I witnessed at least one person do the following on the metro: eat, drink, smoke, piss, vomit, and do drugs.
3. Parisians love that the Metro is Free and Dirty. They love the metro so much, I guess it's just Paris

James and I attended the Inox Park electronic music festival at l'Ile des Impressionistes in Paris. Aside from the vodka that some friendly Americans offered me while waiting in line, we danced all afternoon and evening essentially sober. You can thank the 60 minute lines where all that was waiting for you was a beer for 7 euro. Woof. Amazing sets though, made a ton of friends, also saw some high school friends who were also studying abroad. Here's a vid I took of Avicii's set.

After going out for a drink around 1 am and wandering around observing many more questionable Parisians, I decided to head home (to the hostel which was now my home). Of course I missed the last metro at 2 am and had to navigate the ridiculously confusing "Noctillen" buses (nigh buses) to get home. What resulted was a 45 minute ride next to an extremely inebriated individual who divulged to me (en francais) that he was a pickpocket (he showed me his 8 stolen cell phones to prove it) and a drug dealer. Paris, killin it yet again.


My next day was a more typical Paris vacation. After checking out of the hostel, meeting my "hostel-mates" for all of five minutes (some cool Australian guys), I checked out the outside of the Louvre, the Tuilleries garden, some big obelisk, l'Arc de Triomphe, and of course le Tour Eiffel. Unfortunately, my camera died just as I arrived at the Tour Eiffel so I only snapped a few shots.

One more Paris event of note. I was standing in line to check into my bus to go back to Brussels. All of a sudden, one guy cuts another off in line. Before you know it they are embroiled in an all-out brawl. Blood is spewing on the floor, children are crying, and worst of all, the bus company employees are trying to break up the fight and hence not checking me in to my bus. So I miss the bus, there are no more available seats until the next day so I am forced to trek back across town and purchase a train ticket back home. Sure couldn't handle another night of the madness I had experienced in past 24 hours.

Way too long of a post, but the events of the weekend needed to fleshed out. Désolée que je ne suis pas désolé.