A European Halloween

Tuesday I had to get up early to finish my french assignment that wasn’t due until Saturday, but I knew that was my only time to get it finished. I went to class, come home, finished my french assignment, cleaned the apartment well, decorated a bit more, ran to the store to get ood for the party, and came home to start getting things ready. Cassie came over early after she got done with class to help me prepare foods. I decided to go with the most American foods I could find. We had cocktail wieners, veggies with ranch dip, chips, and our homemade pizza cut into bites, and “Western” potato wedges with “bacon flavor”, and of course Halloween candy. Cassie and Carly were awesome and got a wonderfully delicious chocolate-mousse cake. I blew out a votive stuck on top- lol. Had about 16 people all together at the party and I’m very thankful to all my great friends who helped me celebrate. It was a good time just hanging out with friends, and of course, what’s more festive than a good debate about international relations theory and nuclear proliferation? That’s what happens when you get too many ScPo students in a room together. I hope my neighbors didn’t mind the added noise for one night. Andrea was spending the night because we needed to leave at about 5 to get to CDG to catch our flight the next morning. And since we had an early day, everyone left before it got too late.

I, of course, hadn’t had time to pack yet. So after everyone left, I did a hasty cleaning of the apartment and threw a bunch of stuff in a suitcase. It was about 1:30 before we got to bed. I set the alarm for 4:15. That was NOT fun. We got up and dressed in the dark and cold and headed for the metros at 5. Now, I thought the metros opened at 5. I’ve always thought that, but never had an opportunity to test that fact. So we walk up to the metro strop closest to me, and the gate is still locked over the entrance. Wa??? We groaned and looked at each other. That’s when this dark skinned, thuggish looking kid who had been leaning against the metro entrance sign (and who I’d been watching surreptitiously as we approached) surprised us by asking in an American accent. “Do you speak English?” We were both so shocked that neither of us answered and the kid must have thought we didn’t understand. “Are you French?” Um... no, we’re American, Andrea told him hesitantly. “Do you know what time the metro opens?” Well it should be open now, I said looking at my watch that read 5:15. I guess we can wait? Any of you who have ever traveled with me know that I am a worrier. I am always worried about missing a flight, getting lost, getting stuff stolen, etc. etc. etc. so I want to be safe and not sorry, so feel like I need to be there crazy early for everything. We weren’t going to be late, but since neither of us had ever flown from terminal 3 at CDG, we didn’t know what to expect or how long it might take. I was worried about time and not really wanting to stand on the street at 5 am in north Paris, so I was all about finding an open metro. It occurred to me that maybe the next stop up the line might be open since it was a more major stop. “I’m on my way to meet a friend at the airport” our strange American said. “Where are you headed?” Same. “Oh good! I don’t really know how to get there. I just know it’s on the RER- B. I’m really glad I ran into you guys. I’ll just follow you.” Oh goody. He was about our age, not real big, but he was dressed very, uh...urban? I don’t know how to describe it, but baggy jeans, a leather jacket and a shirt unbuttoned most of the way. Not really your first choice of random people to hang out with, but to be honest, while I was still wary of him, I was glad to have him with us. We decided to walk to the next metro station in hopes that it would be open. That part of town isn’t dangerous, but it is a little sleazy, and at 5am there is no one out but people with early travel plans, and people who haven’t been home at all yet. In all probability that short walk with the 2 of us likely wouldn’t have been a problem, but I was quite thankful to have our male companion tagging along. When we got to the next station (open!) and got down to the platform, I was really thanking the Lord for sending a guy to stand with us while we waited 20 minutes with some “unsavories” for the first metro of the day. And when we had to go catch the RER at Gare du Nord which is a rough part of town. I got the impression that our friend probably couldn’t have done much to protect us if anyone tried anything, but I figured the deterrent would be more than sufficient.

I never learned his name, and he never asked ours but we chatted the entire way to CDG (much to Andrea’s annoyance- lol. “He just wouldn’t be quiet!”) He was Hawaiian, living in Paris for a month while visiting a friend and checking out art schools, and doing something that had to do with his family’s Bed-n-Breakfast back in Hawaii. He was certainly an interesting character. He was checking the internet to look up his friend’s flight info on his iPhone and telling about his hunt for American food. He was going to terminal 2 and we were at terminal 3, so we left him on the RER and said our goodbyes. Maybe it was just my inherited “weird person magnet” working overtime, or maybe it was some divine protection for two girls on their early morning trek to the airport, but as weird as he was, I’m thankful that he accompanied us.

It was cold in Paris, but it was even colder out of the city. We got off the RER and had to walk outside for 5 minutes to get to terminal 3 because, of course, the French can’t connect their terminals in a logical way! So we walk through the cold and arrive at a big building that was almost like a warehouse. So THIS is the other side of CDG. It’s a night and day difference. None of the frills of the international terminals, terminal 3 is for budget airlines. Check-in was surprisingly simple, and then we went and got some pastries from the snack bar and a french fashion magazine for the flight and went and hung out by the gate until time for boarding. We were flying EasyJet which, has non-numbered tickets, so it’s strictly first-come-first-serve as far as seats. And, you can’t just line up at the door and go get on the plane. You line up at the door and then get on a bus and then that takes you to the plane and then you go get on it. We get wedged into our seats and it isn’t long before Andrea is dozing against the window. The flight wasn’t a long one and I figured going to sleep would probably just make me more tired, so I decided to stay up and read the guide book and my magazine. Flying to Milan from Paris may be the only direct flight I’ve ever had in my life. It’s crazy to me that you can get from Paris to Italy as easily as flying from Daytona to Atlanta. And the flight attendants were trilingual. We arrived in Milan and got off the plane, took another bus to the terminal, and claimed our baggage and located the office to buy a ticket for the shuttle bus that takes you into the city. Milan-Malpensa is located almost an hour from the city center, but they have buses running every 20 mins, so it’s not real inconvenient.

The bus took us to the central train station in Milan, and then we were on our own. I had the directions to our hostel that I copied down from the website. After some wandering around we found a metro station, managed to buy a 48 hour transit pass, and find the right line. There are only 3 metro lines in Milan and not nearly as convenient as those in Paris. We take the metro to the designated stop and then we get off to find the tram we are to take. We find the right number but it seems to be headed in the opposite direction the best we can tell. Some general confusion and wandering around later, we find a stop to go the correct direction. The only problem is that the stop that my directions said to get off at, well there were 8 stops with that name. Seriously, they were all hyphenated and the first word was the same, and all mine said was the first word. My directions did say to go 6 stops. So I’m counting, and we get to the 6th one and get off. I was unsure because “go 6 stops” could mean, go get off at the 6th stop, or go past 6 stops and get off at the 7th. So we get off and can tell by the numbers on the buildings that we were not real close to where we wanted to be. So we walk a good 5-10 mins down this street hauling our bags and finally find the little building where our hostel is located...and 50 yards down from it, another tram stop. Clearly we were supposed to pass 6 stops. Oh well, we made it. Only one problem. There is a gate and it is locked. Not really sure what to do so I press the intercom button and hope for the best.
“Bongiorno”
“Bongiorno. Inglese, per favore?”
“Que? Do you speak English?”
“Yes!”
“Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, the gate is unlocked.”
So I was thinking that I had successfully communicated in Italian.
A young girl met us at the door.
“Hello.”
“Hi.”
“Can I ask you, what language were you speaking before?”
haahahah yes, that’s right. Apparently my Italian is not understandable. I apologized and explained that it was probably a cross between French, English, and Spanish. The hostel was nice and clean. We had a private room, only the bathrooms were shared. And there was a computer with free internet in the lobby area which was quite nice. We were tired but knew if we sat down we’d probably never get up again. So we dropped our stuff and headed back to the city center.

My first view of the Duomo was pretty impressive. It had scaffolding on the lower portion (like everything in Europe!) but the impressive spires were on full display. But more about that in a minute. It was lunch time so we decided to find a place to eat.
Me: What are you in the mood for?
Andrea: Italian food!
Me: We’re in Italy....it’s ALL Italian food.
Andrea: I know, I want Italian Italian food!

We found a cafe in the famous covered galleria shopping area and had our first Italian meal. After our repast, we headed to the big tourist attraction- the Duomo. Impressive from the inside, but stunning from the outside. If you know me, you know I am a sucker for ornate architecture and old buildings. I absolutely love the Duomo. Soooo cool. You can probably tell I’m a fan if you look at my pictures cause there are like 400 pics of it from various angles. Up on the roof of the Duomo the sun was so nice and warm. We stretched out on the slanted roof tiles and enjoyed the warmth. There were quite a few people just sitting up there and enjoying the day. It was pretty awesome, and a nice change from the Paris cold. We spent a good amount of time up top climbing around and taking pictures until the sun started to get low making it feel like it was much later in the day than it was. We decided it was time for some gelato. (Chocolate hazelnut and frutti di bosco for me). And after we finished our ice cream and walked around a bit more we decided we were both exhausted and should head back to the hostel. It was only about 5 or 6 when we arrived but fatigue overcame us and we fell asleep fully clothed on top of the sheets. Three hours later we woke up from our little “nap”. We were both too tired to really care about dinner, so we checked our email, ate some Prince cookies, and watched MTV because it was the only English channel on the TV. We went to sleep about 10. It was an anticlimactic end to my birthday, but I can’t complain since I got to be in Paris and Milan on my day. And that, my friends, is how I spent my twenty-second birthday!