Let me begin by saying that I hated Paris. I’m sure there are many reasons to enjoy Paris and I’m sure that many people absolutely love that city.
I don’t like pickles either. It’s okay.
I enjoy seeing famous landmarks when I travel but I only really bother with it so I can take pictures for all my friends and family. You know, proof. I’ve never been a city girl so I spent most of my time enjoying the French Countryside.
First, I stayed in the most beautiful little area near Niort with a lovely English couple. I helped them with gardening, pointing walls, and taking care of their new pup (possibly the result of too much wine and my insistence that a spontaneous pup was a good idea).
Most days were pretty uneventful. I decided to go to Le Louvre, which was busy, interesting, and beautiful.
Visiting the Catacombs was the highlight of Paris. I repeat, bunches of dead people were the highlight of my time in Paris. Sadly, I don’t have any pictures because I forgot my phone in the airport while running for my life. We’ll get to that later.
Lovers Bridge was exactly what I expected it to be; A bunch of locks on a bridge.
A man selling locks and sharpies laughed at me for being the loneliest girl on Lovers Bridge. Haters.
Once I crossed the bridge I decided to go sit by the Eifel Tower for a while and read my book. I headed towards the general direction thinking, there’s no way I can mess this up. Apparently, I could and I did. I walked around for about 45 minutes passing the Eifel Tower, finding it behind me, passing it, finding it a mile to the right of me. I don’t know.
My last day in Paris was a mess.
A man punched me (seriously) after I refused to go home with him where I “would be safe and sleeping”. Instead of going with Mr. Where-you-from-pretty-lady, I managed to buy the correct ticket and get on my train to the airport. I actually thought it was over. All I had to do was get to the airport, get on a plane, and go find my friend in Croatia. Simple, right?
After a few stops and a change of passengers, I found myself alone on the train with eight Middle Eastern men. We were notified that there would be no more stops until the airport, which was approximately half an hour away. Eventually, they were sitting with me, showing me tattoos of Osama Bin Laden (their words – not mine!) and offering me their cell phones so I could call my Mom and Dad and say goodbye because even though they hated to kill the pretty ones, they were going to make me an angel. They were clearly messing with me the whole time.
I’m still alive and well.
This was all topped off with a crazy lady in the airport who kicked a table past my head and threatened to bite my eyeballs out. I think I pissed her off by, you know, existing.
I don’t even remember the flight. I have no idea if I slept, cried, gave Paris the finger, or vowed never to travel by myself again. What I do remember is looking down on beautiful Croatia as we were preparing to land. Paris was out of my mind and I was floating on blissful thoughts of partying on a yacht for a week.
Will I travel alone again?
Traveling isn’t always going to be new friends and landmark selfies. There is no guarantee with travel that every day is going to be a good day. We all have bad days no matter where we are and that’s okay! What’s important is that the experience, as a whole, is something that you can learn and grow from and hopefully end up with a few good stories. The happy days I had and the wonderful people I met in France far outweigh any negative experience I encountered. I wouldn’t take a single moment of it back.