My friend, Aya, had been working in Paris for a few weeks. I knew this because: 1. she mentioned it a while back when she had us over for dinner at her apartment. 2. she asked Em to water her plants while she was there. It had slipped my mind until Em mentioned it, but Em suggested I try to meet up with her while we would both be in Europe. Actually, she mentioned this to Aya too. It seemed like a good idea. Also, it turns out that taking a train from Amsterdam (or Rotterdam) to Paris is a common thing to do around here. It takes about 2.5 hours from Rotterdam – not too shabby for ~445 kilometers.

Coordinating was a bit tricky. Aya initially thought that she could offer me a place to crash for a couple of days. She and a friend / coworker had been living their boss’s place, and she thought said boss was going to be away for the weekend. I had been emailing with Aya to confirm what days I would be able to stay, but I hadn’t heard back. The day before I was planning to go, she mentioned that she couldn’t offer me a place to stay after all. So I figured it was a no-go. I offered for her to come over to Delft, and said that I could offer her a spare mattress, but she suggested I come just for the day. It was a bit expensive, but I had just secured my apartment for well under what I had budgeted for rent on this trip, so I went for it. I was really missing my friends, and this seemed like an opportunity akin to being able to view Halley’s Comet: it only happens once in your life, twice if you’re lucky (I heard that line in a spoken word performance I heard in college – performer uncertain).

I selected the earliest departure and the latest return that I could, but they were not all that early / late in the grand scheme of things: 8:58 and 19:24, respectively. I boarded the swanky and excessively carpeted train and found it oddly quiet – it didn’t feel like riding a train to me, but maybe that’s because I’m used to the “dulcet tones” of riding (usually right near the door with my bike) on the MBTA Commuter Rail.

Once I arrived in Paris, it took a solid hour to connect with Aya, which was a bit of a drag.

The first problem was that we had planned for me to meet her at her apartment. I thought that finding my way to an address on a completely foreign transit system might be a problem, and I could have suggested that she meet me at the station, but I didn’t. I should have. I got on the correct subway line, but I took it the wrong direction. I blame part of this on bad design. The newer train cars have lights under each stop on the maps inside of them to indicate position. Also, the light under stop that the car is approaching next will blink.

The issue (which I realized later) is that when the train is going in one direction (right on the map, for example), the solid lights indicate where the train has been already. And when the train gets to the end and reverses direction, the lights do not reset – they just stay illuminated and turn off one-by-one as the train passes stops, so the solid lights then indicate where the train is going. So really, this is doing more harm than good. A compass that always points south can be useful once one gets used to it as long as it’s consistent, but this was a compass that sometimes pointed south and sometimes pointed north.

The second problem in connecting with Aya was that she just gave me her street address with no unit number. I had given Aya my Dutch phone number, but I didn’t have a phone number for her in Paris. I got to the address, and I realized it was a large complex. I tried to activate cellular data on my phone to access my email, but I wasn’t able to get data on my Dutch SIM card, so I went into the cafe next door and asked if they had wi-fi. I ordered an obligatory earl grey tea. I emailed Aya and asked her to meet me at said cafe, and I wrote some of the previous blog post while I waited, which was actually not too long.

This kind of experience is sometimes frustrating, but it’s actually what I love about Aya in a way. She is much more inclined to be spontaneous than she is to make detailed plans. She constantly forces me out of my comfort zone (for example, asking the day before she leaves if she can crash at my place for the weekend). I sometimes resist, but when I give in, it is always worthwhile. That was the case with this trip as well. Aya was the perfect companion with whom to spend a day exploring Paris.

Here’s Aya.

She also brought her friend / coworker / roommate, Vickie along for the day.

But that’s not really her character. This is more like her:

Aya and Vickie were tons of fun. Here’s what happens when the two of them are together. Aya is all over the map, and Vickie is both laughing with her and trying to make sure that we are able to make it to the next activity that has a defined start time. Throughout the entire trip, we barely had a chance to stop laughing among the three of us.

Aya and Vickie had planned to go on a boat tour down the Seine. It left from a place right near Notre Dame, so we looked around the cathedral a bit.

We just missed the first boat tour that we could have possibly gotten, so we bought our tickets and had some time to kill before the next departure. Stops included a couple of cafes which Aya suspected might have served ice cream but didn’t, a creperie that did serve ice cream, and an adorable street train. One tip from Aya was to ask for mustard at any place where one orders food. Even the most nondescript food establishment has mustard that is as potent as wasabi.

With about 20 minutes before the boat tour departed, we had the epiphany that it would be a good idea to get a buzz before said boat tour, so we looked around for a market or bar that would facilitate that goal. The only thing we could find was a bar that was just opening with a lousy beer selection and a floor that my shoes stuck to as I walked. I think Aya got a mojito. Vickie and I each got a “red wine” aperitif which cost €3. It tasted like cough syrup, and it was a challenge to get down in the short time we had. I didn’t think it was possible to get bad wine in France, but I learned that it is.

On the cobblestone road that led up to the dock, we saw one stone with a Jesus or something of the sort painted on it. Aya was about to take a photo, and Vickie moved so that her shadow wouldn’t be obscuring said Jesus. Aya then requested that Vickie move back to where she was so that she would half-cover said Jesus with her shadow.

Aya took a nap for most of the boat tour. Many of the people we saw on the banks were napping as well. Some others smiled and/or waved to us. We passed by the Musée d’Orsay, a couple of other significant buildings which I can’t recall, got to the Eiffel Tower, and then turned around.

Later, we actually braved the line (which moved surprisingly quickly) and went into Notre Dame.

On the way back to the subway stop, we watched this street performer. He had a few impressive cycling tricks like backwards circles (which are harder than they look), standing on the bike, and riding while sitting on the handlebars, but really the show was more about his extremely theatrical performance. As spectators were starting to gather, he walked around with a hand broom and either swept an area of the curb or set down a tiny chair for each person. Also, he recruited Vickie as his assistant for the show. She didn’t really have a purpose in the show other than to stand on a piece of tape which was adhered to the pavement. At the end of the show, he gave her a heart-shaped balloon.

Right before I had to catch my return train, we stopped in another restaurant to get me a very satisfying pizza to digest on the way back. There were a few varieties of pizza on the menu: “cheese”, “cheese and some sort of meat”, and “cheese and _”. The last one is what I got. The “_” was actually another type of cheese. I wish I could remember what it was called. I can vaguely remember what it tasted like – it was quite flavorful and a bit like bleu cheese but not quite as intense. “Cheese” was €8. “Cheese and _” was €12.50. I think it was even more expensive than the “cheese and some sort of meat”. Worth it though.

As we got to the station, we found my track, and Vickie advised me that I should run because other people were running – I thought that was a bit silly until I realized that the track had three trains lined up back-to-back, and the farthest one away was the one I was supposed to board. I bid my hosts au revoir and made it with not much time to spare. My circa 7.5 hours in Paris were about as packed full of fun as they could have been.