Paris
I woke up on the morning of my first travel day not really thinking anything of it, it was just a normal day, there were no feelings of excitement nor were there any butterflies of uncertainty. I started my daily routine as I would, I made my breakfast at a leisurely pace and followed that up by making myself a coffee and watching YouTube videos for an hour before I finally started my workout... That normal routine that I hadn't been able to change for the last month.
However two hours before the train from my home town to London was due to depart I started to think "maybe I should finish packing all of my final essentials" I quickly decided this was a good idea and got to it! Lucky for me I had been packing things in my bag as I thought of them for the last two weeks. One hour before my train was due to depart I had finished, double and triple checked everything and I was confident all was in order so I went downstairs to make myself a coffee and to relax.
25 minutes before my train was due to leave and five minutes before my lift to the train station left I realised I had no earphones in my pocket. This was a disaster, I had some in my bag but they where tucked right in the bottom portion underneath all of my clothes! So I ran upstairs and began turning my room over looking for them, only for my efforts to be in vein. It was now 15 minutes before my train left and I had begrudgingly admitted defeat, my mum was in the car with the engine running and my dad was outside with her smoking a cigarette. I got into the car and waved my dad good bye, he didn't cry or show too much emotion but there was a look in his eye that I could see he was sad to see me leave. I arrived at the train station, hauled the weight of another person onto my back (in the form of a backpack), waved my mum goodbye, and ran to the platform. Luckily my train was late, which shouldn't be a surprise to anyone who's ever caught a train in England before.
I left for Paris from London St Pancras. It was a typically grey, wet and windy day in London and actually was the same in Paris. I found my hostel with relative ease and got some rest. I started the next day early, eager to explore Paris. This was the week the river seine had burst its banks, flooding the market stalls and parks below street level.
As I walked along the river I could see french news reporters and international news reporters all along the bank of the river talking about the dramatic rain fall that had occurred in the last few days and the repercussions of it. It looked horrible for anyone who's business or livelihood was effected by this freak rainfall, but it was intriguing to watch the river seine in flow of full force. I walked for what seemed to be forever, passing grand chapels, government buildings and stunning bridges before finally reaching the Eiffel Tower.
It was also the week before the European football tournament was to begin so the French authorities had hung a giant football between the legs of the Eiffel Tower.
The land around the Eiffel Tower was mostly occupied by African immigrants selling Eiffel Tower key rings and more African men trying to tie string around your finger so you will pay them to let you leave. On my way to finding a spot to eat my lunch I encountered a man who asked where I was from in two different languages before asking me if he could tie his string around my finger, I said no and walked away. I ate my lunch away from everyone and on the way back towards the Eiffel Tower he asked again and somehow managed to get the string around my finger, I told him I was leaving two - three times before I got away and when I did he told me I was disrespecting him. The sight seeing portion of my day was good but I was tired so I decided to make the long trek back to my room.
On my way back to the hostel I took a wrong turn and what should have been only 20 minutes of walking back to the hostel turned into two hours of walking down streets and back up them, I don't think I was ever more than 30 minutes away from the hostel. I arrived back at my room, had a shower and slept.
I was now on day three and had no accommodation planed past this night, this worried me a little bit and it suddenly sunk home that I have to look after myself and this meant not being thrown out on the street with nowhere to stay. I spent most of the day in the hostel looking for hostels that where a little less money than the one I was staying in, which was £53.90 for two nights. I think that's outrageous for a hostel that doesn't let you cook your own food, or even eat prepackaged food on site. So I found one a little further north of where I currently was, it was in a great location just along the canal and was reasonably priced at £22 per night called St. Christopher's inn.
I made a trip to the supermarket for food and water, ate and slept feeling as though I had accomplished a great deal towards my independence.
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