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During the October break, my friends and I decided we’d travel to France because even though we had work stacked higher than the Eiffel Tower, we needed a break. At first, we wanted to travel to multiple places but soon we realised our funds (just like our patience with each other) is limited. So, France, more specifically Paris, was the first and only option. We decided to stay from Sunday morning to Friday night. Now I can already hear the questions, why did you choose Paris? Why were you there for so long? Where did you stay? And so on.
To answer the first question, we deemed Paris a place with lots of opportunities and activities to do, but it never occurred to us how lazy we actually were. Travelling to Paris was hectic: setbacks and no sleep made us groggy and angry. This was because we had to leave the accommodation at 12:30 a.m. to make our 5:30 a.m. flight, tensions ran high. Attitudes which were a combination of both nice and passive aggressive, we started our trip with a bang!
The first day of paid torture included the flight, travelling from Charles de Gaulle Airport to our hotel (which took around 2 hours), while battling stormy weather and a three-hour stint in a local café (as our check-in was 3pm but we went with the motto, ‘better be 5 hours early than one minute after’). Cold and wet, we sat in the outdoor café eating expensive French food with lopsided smiles on our faces. The hotel, cheap and cheerful, offered pleasant staff who understood our struggle that day, and allowed us to check in early, which we all appreciated. The rest of our day was spent relaxing until later that evening when we went on a river cruise and spotted the Eiffel tower in all its lit-up glory.
Monday morning, I braved a dreaded fear of mine: Disney. Now I’m not a complete monster. I like Disney just as much as the next person, if that person is someone who dislikes Disney with a passion. Arguments broke out between our small trio and soon the happiest place on Earth became the place where dreams go to die. Time dragged and after three hours sat in the kid from Coco’s kitchen drinking a litre of hot chocolate and frozen margaritas, tears had been-shed, and apologies had been said. Soon our little tiff would be forgotten, and the day would continue without interruptions.
Tuesday was a slow but simple day with us taste testing the popular and hyped ‘steak and frites’ place known as Le Relais de l’Entrecôte. Due to the potentiality of being stuck in a line, we went during lunchtime, and only waited for around thirty minutes. The food was spectacular, and reasonably priced, with unlimited bread, and not one but two rounds of steak, cooked perfectly medium. Pictured below was the walnut salad starter.
On Wednesday our trio became an unlucky six-some, when we met with some friends in the area. We travelled far and wide to find the famous Angelina hot chocolate, and of course have lunch there too. Our meal and hot coco were pleasant, but a bump in the road soon presented itself as we were summoned by the waitstaff to pay the remainder of bill, even though the bill had been paid. But even though – we were overcharged it gave us an amazing chance to step into the oldest English French bookstore, where I was able to buy a beautifully illustrated copy of Romeo and Juliet – my day and trip complete.
Thursday was short and simple, shopping along the Champs-Elysées, and tightening my ever-dwindling bank account. We were also able to visit the Arc de Triomphe, take pictures, well more pictures, and post them to our social media (since did it really happen if it wasn’t documented on Instagram). Our last day was spent visiting the Louvre, seeing the Mona Lisa, and leaving me questioning why I paid seventeen euros to stare at the back of some six-foot man’s head.
Overall, Paris was a once in a lifetime experience one which I probably may never recreated again, with people who in ten years’ time might not even remember me, but through the turmoil came the realisation that I need supervision in an Airport, and to take every opportunity, because one day I’ll be old, and I won’t ever get my youth back.
Written by Olivia Whittaker