We slept in and then we had some delicious potatoes with onions, with a fried egg on top. And while the family was off to church, we watched the first two episodes of Top Chef DC on the Slingbox (its like itunes store that hooks to your tv, so they can get American tv). After that we watched a couple of episodes of Psych - and then even checked out "Life" - a series that was cancelled, but really good.
When the Murphy's got back we watched a few more episodes of Life, had hotdogs, chips (and a choice of chicken salad or egg salad) for lunch. We made sure we were all packed up and headed out. The Murphy men lugged our bags down and packed the car, Joe is so polite, "May I take your luggage?"... They just make lovely people. Julia got the car out of the garage (its like a car storage bin where you drive onto an elevator and then they shuffle the cars around - there is only one slot that a car can drive out of... So like a jukebox, you request your car, and then the little arm goes to that slot and brings it down) - super cool technology, but Julia says it makes her question if a trip is worth going through the trouble of getting the car out. We're honored that we were worth it.
At the rail station we had another little photo shoot with our photographer Julia and we were all in good spirits. The Murphy's spoiled us. It felt like home, and made us a little homesick for the first time really. We had real tv, real diet coke, and real food. The three of us all said, we could have gotten on a plane home today... Paris will be great though. We have a 2 day hop-on/hop-off bus, and so we can see a lot with minimal effort (yay, minimal effort!).
We had a 10min ride to Mannheim, and then a 90min layover there before our train to Paris. At the train station its a little like "The Happening" - we walk along and everyone is standing in a trance, their frozen faces transfixed upward, over our heads. Oh yah, the Germany game is on... We find a place to sit and wait, and we hear a few uproars of cheers a couple of times - 2-0 Germany, we're happy by association. :)
We know we're going to be hungry on the train, so we look around at shops for sandwiches we can take with us for dinner. They're all hard rolls... Just not something we're in the mood for - and then there is McDonalds. Should we? Fast, easy? Dana comes back with a scouting report, the deciding factor is that McDonalds has a self serve ICE MACHINE!! We can pack our cups with ice, crunch ice... Yay!!! ICE!! We really miss ice.
So we go to McDonalds, order, they hand us our cups... Patti goes around to the ice machine, we're really almost giddy about it. Patti comes back - no ice. The ice machine is broken. Its broken. Its just this small little machine anyway, not much bigger than a coffee maker. Its taped up, off.. Doesn't look like it has worked in a long time - and no one cares. You know how vocal Americans get when the ice runs out of the machine - there is a back up at the machine, we have to make sure they know - they need to run buckets of ice out asap... Everybody make way, the guy is coming with the ice! We wouldn't dream of going ahead and filling our cups without having the ice... No thanks, we'll wait. But here there is nothing like that. I almost feel like Europeans have found these strange machines that make water hard and cold magically, and they view it as alien technology that they don't know how to run. In Mosquito Coast, ice was the beginning of civilization. Not that I'm sayin... I'm just sayin. We miss ice. We were a little deflated after that - we were so excited about it, and then denied. We all vow to stop for a monster cup of ice, with a little soda, as soon as we land back in NYC. But hey, bonus - more soda, right?
We head out to the platform and people watch. Lots of people with German flags as capes... A true punk rocker with different colorful layers of spandex, a blue and blonde mohawk that I would guess to be about 6-8 inches high (shaved on the sides, but long blue sideburn that hang down in curls almost like an Orthodox Jewish person). We also collectively decide that man capris are no longer capris if worn with dress socks and loafers. They're high waters.
Our train arrives and there is a crush of people getting on. The aisles are MUCH narrower than in the other trains - as narrow as aisles on coach on the plane, and people have bags and want to go in both directions. This is a French train... When we went into Germany we had a German train, makes sense that we have a French one to go to Paris.
We have seats 11, 12 and 13 - we get on and see seats numbered in the 80s, and they're going down. At one point it felt like Billy Goats Gruff - people wanted to come to our end and we wanted to go to theirs, and no way that two lines of traffic were fitting through. Patti stored her bag and was able to squeeze her way up further to look for our seats. She found our numbers, but in car 5, and we're in 6. Dana and I got through somehow, people stood in other people's seats, the aisles started to thin out a LITTLE as more people found their seats.
We had nowhere to go, nowhere to sit, and I was *crabby* - the picture is actually of Dana in one bathroom with our bags, while I stood in the bathroom across the hall with Patti. Someone near us suggested we just sit where people weren't... Wow - genius. Packed train. But another person said they passed seats starting with 1 on the way in... But that would mean the car was numbered, "10, 11, 12, 13, 85, 86..." Down to 25 where we were no standing. I told him it doesn't make much sense. He offered back that "sometimes life exists in chaos". Whoa. Obviously European. America is linear. (For better or worse).
Patti went on a scouting mission - and sure 'nuf, our seats were at the other end of the car - the first seats we passed after we got on the train.
French trains put me in a bad mood. But we have seats now, our bags are near us, and all is good. We'll be in Paris in an hour.
Things we'll miss about Germany - Hanzel and Gretal looking houses, Doners, rolling green hills, the Murphys, and "chews". After we split with Amy and made our way around, we heard a lot of people using it. So I apologize to Amy for thinking she was cuckoo... We still don't know how to spell it, but we have confirmation that it starts with a "t" and could possibly have a "j" next. Tchjews - but that what it sounds like to us.
New country, new language, new systems... And a lot of stairs. We arrive in Paris and they don't believe in escalators or lifts (as we've come accustomed to calling them) and to get down to the subway is a LOT of stairs, in steamy hot conditions, with our bulging bags with added pounds of chocolate... We're just thinking/dreading that what goes down, must come up.
We get tickets, after we figure out the machine - €1,60 for one ticket (which is about $2)... I go to the turnstile and watch to see where the ticket goes (its tiny, like a 1/2 inch by 1.5 inches) and it slides through the machine and pops up. You take it as you go through. If you can go through. I put it in and push... Nothing - turnstile doesn't move. I push again, with both hands, and this puts my rolling bag in front of me... With great effort, it turns. One problem... My bag is through and I am NOT! I just paid $2 for my bag to ride the subway! GGGGGRRRRRRRRR!!! So back through the madness to get another ticket - other people are having the same issue and just jumping the turnstile (that's all I need is to be arrested in Paris for this). Dana and Patti have a hard time getting through to, but they're through and watching my bag. I go to get another ticket and now there's a big line at the machine. But fear not! A lady is selling tickets out of her hand for no profit (not sure if she's part of the system, or homeless and looking for a tip for saving people the line)... Anyway I buy two tickets from her - just in case. I get through but its still not easy.
Down the stairs to the trains - like 3 separate staircases with 20 steps each... Still imaging the trip back up... The train arrives and its packed. We start to get on, but doors close - wow, we have quite a learning curve hear in Paris. Second train comes and we are determined to get on this one - and we do. On the train its filthy, a guy gets on and is doing magic tricks with rope for tips.
Our hostess in Paris had to make an emergency trip somewhere - so she emails us directions to another apt we have to go to in order to pick up the key. We get off at that stop... Up the stairs... And truly, I've done the Spanish steps and Pisa, and this trip up these stairs is worse than both. The place is about 5 blocks from the metro - not bad if we didn't have luggage. The side walks are built for one and they're already clogging with people out for the night. We find the place, text the guy, and "Voila!", he says.. The key!
Back the 5 blocks, get another ticket - down the stairs, through another turnstile (Dana and I were actually stuck in the middle of this one for a second)... And back in the subway to the apt. On the subway you have to throw a lever on the door to get out or in - another learning curve - they don't open at every stop unless someone opens them. We throw the latch and get off at our stop. More horrific stairs up, and we're off - wandering down Paris streets at dusk, not sure where we're going. We find signs for the Louvre and we're next to that - so yay.
We walk past it by a few blocks, but we figure it out and get back on track. Find the apt, and put in the security code for the building... Then up to the 3rd floor (which we know by now, means the 4th floor). More stairs spiraling up. Then after (our) 3rd floor we're supposed to turn right and go down the hall, and then up another flight. The hall is long, skinny, and DARK. We use our cell phones for flashlights and barrell through - up one more and we're in.
Its a studio - small and efficient use of space. I'd estimate its 15 feet by 12 feet, plus a bathroom. And its hot - or maybe that's just us from all of our Paris stairs. This was our "adventurous" place - we knew it was going to be tiny, and it was advertised as having "a mattress in the closet" for our third person. We look in all the closets. No bed. But there are many throw pillows and a few blankets that we won't be needing, so we fashion a bed out of that, and we'll take turns sleeping on it. The "real" bed isn't much to talk about either - just a mattress on the floor, but better than the floor.
So we're in Paris! We're going to start clean with the city today - the Louvre, hop-on/hop-off bus, evening at the Eiffel Tower... Its all good, in many ways we have more than we did at the compound, free toilet paper and dish soap, a washing machine for clothes, and INTERNET! Everything is better with internet - and its already starting to cool down, and we have a nice courtyard view :)
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Yay for internet! I love reading your stories!
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