What a whirlwind tour of France, and Spain. A mixture of emotions, a sensory overload and the best thing of all, loads of tremendous memories, again!
I arrived in Paris, an airport called Beauvau (sp). What not many people realise is that the airport deceivingly has Paris stated infront of the name but actually is 80km away from Paris. So from Terminal 2, you have to march to Terminal 1 and purchase a bus ticket for 15Euro to Paris. I did this willingly as the other option was a 125Euro taxi ride to Gare Du Nord.
I sat next to two young Americans for a third of the flight, they talked about the state of their hair, what shampoo they recommend and what they class as a decent salon! The rest of the flight they went through their pictures and reminisced. I was glad to be rid of them, generalising about Americans. As I stepped onto the bus, who would sit in front of me... Brash Americans, three of them who got to know each other. Two from Texas and one from Alabama. The whole bus knew about their stand on recycling and that it actually isn't helping the planet, their fear of tornadoes and their expectations of Paris.
Miss Alabama irritatingly amused with her persistant self portraits, she has pix of her on the plane, on the tarmac near the plane, walking from the plane, collecting her bag and on the bus. But she did this whole wiggle but only her head would be in the shoot!
It was rather amusing as all of us sat on the bus and most of us didn't have a clue, besides Paris, knew where our end destination was an hour later we were all safely alighted at a bus terminal near some big convention centre.
I found the metro and made my way to the familiar Gare Du Nord.
Close on three hours after the flight had arrived, I had made it to Gare Du Nord, I went to the familiar taxi stand and showed them the address, a band of them all gathered and refused to take me claiming it was too close. I got directions and off I went.
Their assumption that the hotel was just at the back of the train station was slightly misleading as after forty minutes, with the helpful assistance of google maps, I arrived at the Hipotel. I checked in and went up to my room, simple is the only word that comes to mind. I had a bed, a desk, a chair and a basin. I then went in search of something to drink but everything was closed, no supermarkets in the area stay open past 9 so I had to settle for a restaurant. The nearest was a Istanbul spot that served non other than kebabs, so I enjoyed a French kebab and have to say, worlds apart from a Spanish kebab.
Having eaten handsomely, I walked around this colourful neighboourhood of Gare De L'Est. On one side there are the Arabs and Hindis and on the other the Nigerians and fluttered betweenare the Europeans.
Everywhere, and I do mean everywhere, the tag artists have made their mark. If a delivery vans is stationery long enough it gets sprayed. In the more architecturally pleasing side of Nigeria, this artists has gone around pasting her work onto the walls covering the graffiti, and the tag artists seem to respect this.
I then headed back up to the hipotel nearing eleven, I think. I had the humourous honour of chatting to Helen as she gave me blow by blow accounts of the EUFA Cup Final, she was supporting Bayern!
I woke this morning with the sense that this hotel, that wasn't so hip, would not allow me to leave my bags for the day. I quickly packed for the final time, showered and then headed down a beautiful wooden staircase and asked. There was a young chap, age hard to tell due to his obesity, eating three yogurts and some chips. I was third in queue and quickly realised he didn't speak a word of English, I went back upstairs and got my google translate out. Twenty minutes later, having had his chubby finger waved at me several times, I found out that the train station close to us was the only place that offered lodgings for bags.
I had passed the station on my travels to the Hipotel, so back tracked and not long having entered the awesome train station, I had a ticket with my bag safely stowed away in a locker!
A few hours in Paris, what to do. The weather wasn't looking the happiest, so I debated whether to go straight to the games but then opted for the sightseeing choice and caught the metro with stopping at the Louvre. At the change, I decided that I have all ready done the Louvre and yes it had been winter but I should venture somewhere new so fifteens minutes later I was walking towards the Paris Opera House. I walked around, took a few snaps and then headed to the Palais, looking up a road, I discovered a huge Nelson like Statue so went to investigate. It was wonderful, all aged bronze with fabulous detail. The whole area around it was posh shops, the Hyatt Hotel was a stone throw away.
Happy with my time here, I then continued to the Palais. Again getting side tracked, I found yet another statue, a magnificent glass building with woven bronze encassing it, another building till eventually I was alongside the Louvre, as I wondered down a corridor lining curios shops, I came across an artist. I watched her work for a bit and we chatted. She was from the west of Finland and she reckons I have seen more of her country than she has. I parted as she took up her brush and charismatically applied some more paint to her canvas.
I still hadn't found the Palais. Running out of time, I started looking for a metro as I had no idea where the stadium was. Forty minutes and two stations later I emerged from the underground and was welcomed by this huge stadium right in front of me.
The stadium cleverly called the Omnisport hosted even concerts here. I entered easily, the ticket takers were all dressed in black suits and had FBI hearing devices. They waved me through, and I stepped ever closer to the court. Three rows from the front, I settled in my seat and armed myself with my cameras.
The game was mainly dominated by Bourges, I had their whole supporters clan behind me, with the band at the forefront of the group. So I had the drums and rattles ringing loud and clear two seats away.
In mid-flight going for a 3 pointer, Celine Dumerc for Bourges
In the fourth quarter, the tables turned and what had once been easy pickings changes and Bourges couldn't do anything right. They lost steam and as the clock ticked past 9seconds Celine attempted her second 3throw and everyone watched as it spilled out. She dejectedly ripped her armband off and a heartbeat later the whistle blew with all the pink players celebrating. I watched everyone, heartbroken. Interesting how passionate people are about a sport!
Eventually, I left the comfort of the exciting venue, the men's final was coming up and all the stands were separated, green on the far side and red around me. Flags, bands and songs filled the air. I bid them all farewell as I made my way towards my locker.
Easily reuniting with my belongings, I then started the ride to the airport.
Forty minutes and a herd of travelers all made their way up the escalator, and charged to their check ins, that is all but about 20 who had problems with our train tickets, admittedly I only had a zone 2 ticket and was now in zone 6. Someone out of the blue passed us all and waved his jacket on the otherside and the glass doors and they magically opened, one of our flock tried it and it worked. So another tried, alas we couldn't open the gate. Eventually a real person went through and someone charged the gate and made it, then we all one by one flooded out, with the second released traveler holding the gate for us all.
I thanked him and then headed to Emirates check in. Standing right at the back of the queue, behind several tour parties, I waited patiently, irritated as I hadn't checked in online as there was no one in my usually queue. Twenty minutes later, having not moved very far, an angel plucked myself and another bloke from the back and fast tracked us through business class. I quickly made it through, then said my thank yous, heading towards the customs. The three business class check in ladies laughed at me as the customs had moved, blushingly I then headed to the new customs and flew through.
I now sit in no mans land, a few minutes till we board. Again I say good bye to Europe, hoping to return soon. Pooh is happy, he saw Winnie...
See you all soon...
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