An operations manager approached me last Thursday.
Him: Are you busy this weekend?
Me: Yeah, a little.
Him: Oh.
Me: Why?
Him: Well we’re looking for a volunteer to go to Paris.
Me: Ontario?
Him: France.
Me: I’ll go!
Within 24 hours, I was on a flight. I did what I had to do there, and then I had nearly three days to myself. The hostel was a little interesting. Because I was at the airport a little longer than expected, I arrived at the hostel at 1PM instead of the expected 12PM.
The girl at the desk of the hostel promptly informed me that I was late, that she had given my room away, and that there were no more availabilities. When pressed, she said she had a bed for tonight – but nothing else. This added a bit of stress, but I didn’t concern myself too much. I suspected that she had a chip on her shoulder.
I came back after the girl’s shift was over, and approached the new person at the desk. “Oh yes, we have tons of free beds tomorrow night! You might have to change rooms, but there’ll be no problems.” Good news.
I set off for the city. I’m weary of touristy stuff, so while I did go up the Eiffel tower, visit Notre Dame and l’Église Sacré Coeur, I did make sure to walk around the lesser travelled parts of the city as well. I got off at random metro stops and explored, and also walked the stretch from Sacré Coeur to the Latin quarter, stopping often along the way.
A few experiences stood out. It was late Saturday night, and I couldn’t sleep – so I set out for the city. As I walked, I heard guitar playing. This wasn’t the type of smooth mainstream sounds you’d hear at a restaurant. This was the guitar-playing of people doing it for friends.
I followed the sound. It brought me to the side of the Seine, where I found hundreds upon hundreds of youths, all engaged in picnics. Some had candles, nearly all had wine or beer, along with snacks. Everyone was having a great time. I sat down by the guitar-playing group. We started to chat.
As it turns out, it was the beginning of Easter break, which is two weeks for them. I people watched and looked on to the river with the music as a background. It was magical.
The next night, after a full day of exploring, I went to an indie movie theater. We crowded to watch the Swedish-French film, “The Sound of Noise.” It was a cool film, and the audience didn’t hesitate to laugh out loud.
At the hostel, I met some great folks. One was a university professor in Morocco, who was there for a conference. He had snuck through oranges from a tree his garden in his baggage, one of which he gave to me. It was the best orange I’ve ever had.
All in all, this was a great trip.