24 Hours in Paris

 As the great Anthony Bourdain said, “The journey changes you”.  Notice he said ‘journey’ instead of ‘delicious meals’, or ‘sunsets’, or ‘beautiful experiences’. No, it’s the JOURNEY that changes you…and part of the journey is getting out of your comfort zone and doing things you don’t really want to do.  

I landed at Charles de Gaul Airport at 6.30am, Saturday morning.  The flight had been a terrific First Class affair from JFK, and I was very excited to go spend the day in Paris.  I booked a hotel at the airport as I was flying out to Istanbul the next day.

After dropping off my bags and changing my underwear, I fired up Google Maps to figure out my plan for the day.  I have been to Paris many times, but shockingly I have never seen the Eiffel Tower!  I always felt it was too touristy; but it was a winter day so I figured the crowds would be light.

This is the moment disaster struck.  From my previous journeys I knew that getting to Paris from CDG was a simple matter of taking the B-Line from the airport station to the heart of the city.  However, Google Maps was telling me this was impossible.

It’s not for me to disagree with the evil geniuses and tech-bros at Google, but I had taken the B-Line many times before.  I assumed that the Russians had hacked the interwebs and went to the station anyways.  It was when I got to the terminal 2 station I saw it: a sign stating that the B-Line was down for maintenance…ON A SATURDAY!!!!  I guarantee this day was picked by the railway union to get more pay.  C’est la France.

This was a crushing blow.  I was seriously jet-lagged, cold, annoyed and I am ashamed to admit…I considered throwing in the towel and spending the day in the hotel room.  I may have given up in the past, but that’s not what Bourdain would have done! I cast my anxieties aside, and pressed on.

Now it was time to evaluate my options.  My favourite form of transport, trains, was out.  I also knew that an hour long Uber ride with a talkative Senegalese was something I could not face. My heart sank as that left one option…a bus. (Dark Foreboding Music Plays)

At this point I should point out that I do not know how to ride a bus. In America, where I live, busses are for the absolute lowest of the low in society.  Think of criminals, drug dealers, perverts, electric car drivers; these are the monsters who take the bus.  Most American women I know have been fondled on a bus by a homeless person.  

Fortunately, the very sign that told me the train was down also informed me which bus to take.  I had a day pass on my phone for the Paris metro, which would also work on busses. Things were looking up!

I proceeded to the bus terminal, which I assumed would be a post apocalyptic scene with open drug use and violence.  In fact, it was quite nice, well organized, and essentially very similar to a train station.  I was starting to feel more confident.

I would be taking the “Roissybus”, which is pronounced “Wassey-Bus!!!!” and is so much fun to say.  I approached the green beast with caution as if I was sneaking up on a sleeping lion.  Assuming I would be berated by the driver for existing, I made sure to have a smile on my face and was very courteous.

Then, the second disaster struck: the pass on my phone didn’t work!  “Putain!!!”   For we British, this is great humiliation on the scale of wearing socks with sandals or  a Korean school child getting an A- on a trigonometry exam.  I assumed that I would be taken to a French internment camp or a homeless shelter at this point, but instead the driver just looked at my pass and said, “No problem, monsieur, welcome onboard”.  I then asked, “Is there First Class seating available?” and he just looked at me…

As we pulled away from the depot, I was filled with a sense of pride and accomplishment.  I had done it.  I had faced my fears and was now on a public bus heading to Paris! I felt so bourgeois.

European busses are VERY different from American busses!  The journey took an hour and at no point did I see any stabbings, public defecations, or drug use.  In fact, there wasn’t even anyone listening to awful rap music without headphones! 

The Roissybus dropped me off by the Paris Opera.  I then took the Paris Metro to the Eiffel Tower.  I have never taken the Metro before either, but it’s fundamentally a train and I felt more confident.  Although very crowded, the Metro is actually quite nice and much better organized than I expected.

After seeing the Eiffel Tower, and the life-altering bus ride that got me there, I was famished!  As I always do in France, I walk by bistro after bistro until I find one that serves ‘tartare de beouf’.  I ended up at the “Cafe des Officiers” and had a lovely, very boozy, lunch.

The rest of my day was spent at the “Hotel des Invalides” in the 7th Arrondissement.  Inside was one of the best military museums I have ever seen as well as Napolean’s tomb.  Once I had my fill of muskets and cannons, it was time to head back to the hotel and get ready for my flight to Istanbul the next morning.

Did I take an Uber back to the hotel?  No, I took the bus with pride!

The journey really does change you.