And One for the Beautiful French Women Who Save Us Forever

And One for the Beautiful French Women Who Save Us Forever

            Will and I went to where the internet claimed the Eurostar train office was.  It wasn’t there.  A train construction worker said that it used to be there, but it had moved.  Thus, we got back on the Tube and went to where it really was.  We booked a train to Lille, France with a connection to Paris. 

            French security at the London end of the Chunnel was total bullshit.  They pulled my 31 lb backpack off the X-ray and said to check it.  They made me take out EVERYTHING.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a 31 lb backpack packed so it fits on you just right and has proper weight distribution?  IT SUCKS.  They finally found my super scary multitool, which they had no problem letting me keep.  They were like “Oh, your knife has other tools on it?  No problem!  Here’s your knife back!”  Meanwhile, Will’s backpack had an ACTUAL knife, and he had no issues getting through.  Utter bullshit.  They didn’t even check our passports.  They were just like “BOOMSTAMPGO.”  

            We had a tasty breakfast in the train station.  It was toast, eggs, and a croissant for me and toast, eggs, chocolate croissant, bacon, and sausage for Will.  I had an amusing conversation with the French dude at the shop.  I eat a lot, and I wanted to know if I had to order more eggs or not:

Me:  How many eggs are there?

Guy:  Scrambled.

Me:  Yes, I get that they’re scrambled, but how many eggs are scrambled?

Guy:  Scrambled!

Me:  Yes, but-

Guy:  SCRAMBLED!

Me:  …Okay, scrambled, then.  Thanks!

We got to Lille with no problems.  On the train to Paris, we started to plan the rest of our trip.  Since we had been having trouble booking trains and stuff, we decided to plan as far in advance as possible so that we could reserve trains and hostels.  This beautiful French woman sitting near us overheard us, and started giving us fantastic advice.  She told us cool, off-grid places to go to in Italy, Romania, and France.  She only stopped because she informed us that the train was going to split and we had to move (we couldn’t understand the French over the intercom).  She was just awesome.  And hot.  Really hot.  She was probably the best looking woman either of us have seen so far.  We actually agree on this, which is odd for us. 

We get to France at like 20:30, and it was near-impossible to find a hostel.  The first one we tried was on a street called Richard Lenoir.  We got to the correct number, but there was a spa there.  We saw some older couple looking at a map, so I tried to talk to them in broken French and gesturing.  It turned out that they were looking on for the same place!  The husband and I figured out the problem.  We were on Boulevard Richard Lenoir, and we needed to be on RUE (Street) Richard Lenoir.  Will and I went to the Metro, and there was no ticket machine.  We were looking around, being sad, and this random old woman came up to us.  She spoke no English, but she spoke Spanish.  I dredged up my high school Spanish as best I could, and I was able to talk to her surprisingly well.  She got us onto the Metro for free!  She paid for both of us.  She was awesome.  I offered her money, but she wouldn’t take it. 

We got to the real hostel, only to find that they had no vacancies.  Using their wifi, we found two places that might be good.  Because we are idiots, we forgot to write down the addresses.  When we arrived at the Metro stop and realized we had no idea where we were going.  Furthermore, no one spoke English OR Spanish, and no one knew the word “Youth Hostel.”  It was almost midnight at this point, so Will and I decided to just find as cheap a hotel as we could and dip into emergency funds, the alternative being spending the night on the street or in the laundromat.  Hobo-ing it up was not an option. 

The first three hotels we tried had no vacancies.  The first one that had a vacancy was way too expensive.  We finally found one that was affordable, but the guy spoke no English.  Luckily, he spoke great Spanish, and again we were able to get by.  My Spanish is coming back more and more, and I’m able to do basic things in French.  Hooray. 

We scrounged up some food.  It was awful.  We looked forever, but all we found was some crazy-ass bodega thing.  Will got some cheap, pre-packaged chicken and some cheap, pre-packaged, tasteless cheese and put it on some of our leftover sandwich bread.  He slathered that sucker in BBQ sauce like nobody’s business.  I found some medium-price sushi, but it wasn’t filling.  I used some of the cheap, pre-packaged, tasteless cheese and put it on a sandwich.  It was super bland, but I realized that I bought one more thing at the bodega: this weird-ass French cereal that I can only describe as chocolate-flavored Wheaties with chocolate inside.  We can’t pronounce the name, so I’ve been calling it Choco-gators because there’s an alligator on the front of the box.  We read for a bit and went to sleep.  

Will’s Corner

            It is very rare that Andy’s and my tastes in women converge. This woman was awesome.

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Dear Joe,

            Party hard.

Love,

Will and Andy