Defining Scope
In initiating a project of this importance, I feel the need to assess which project can be investigated with the depth deserved, but in the space of less than one year of full-time research. This leaves a lot of options and since I am eager to inquest “streaming media” (particularly video), …
Day One
Arriving in Charles De Gaulle airport around 20.30 I was rather amused at Starbucks, MacDonalds and Pizza Hut being the first impressions of French business and commerce. Like the musk of a Gauloise, the stuffy fourteen degree French air was mild but unyielding, yet made welcoming change to the prior subzero departure. This was a nice airport - old, yet well maintained.
Enough of air travel already! Without the burden of baggage re-claim, we “bonjoured” our way past the French immigration with a quick flash of our British passports to set onward on a five minute stroll “a La Gare” (the train station). We took RER-B of the Métro underground. Encountering multiple booths restricted by heavy queues for ticket purchasing and information, we prepared to wait, only to be cut short by spying touch-screen ticket dispensers. These offered a capacitive and glowing interface for instant purchasing with the much appreciated English menus for us Rosbif to be incredibly sure that we weren’t going to purchase tickets to … err, Germany perhaps (thank you!). This was one of the few machines that accepted Visa or Visa Debit cards - with machines for other lines demanding credit from exclusively French banks! Houlala! These small white pieces of card contained transducers which are swiped to gain access through various turnstyles of the underground and made for an efficient route of traveling. Funny side-note: Later on the trip, I was cheeky enough to evade the ticket price 2-3 times by squeezing through with the person in front (much to the horror and complaints of my French friend Sylvain).
After a few moments of reading the station quays, we found our way onto the train — which was *painted* yellow and oddly smelled like urine. However, this transport was ok and offered a functional; albeit comfortable journey before our arrival in Châtlet to make a transfer for the final destination, ‘Place Monge’. In all, the journey was about 1 hour 30 minutes and cost a total of ~€9.
Making our way for “La Sortie” (exit), we ascended to the street via a jam-packed escalator with frantic business men running up and down either side. I would advise single file formation for the more casual travelers! For such an acclaimed metropolitan city, it was evident from first impressions that French culture, charm and quaintness were all strangely intact. I was in love! La Boulangerie, La Pharmacie, La Patisserie! All were here to await our custom. In taking in such surroundings, it was no time before arriving in the nightclub-esque Youth Hostel, “Young and Happy” within its latin district of “Rue Moffetard.” Upon entering, staff were upbeat, spoke excellent English and aboveall, a five-night stay cost the reasonable fee of €135. I was impressed.
With red-tape behind us, we headed for room nine. Bunk beds. BUNK beds! Oh well… this could be fun. Despite my optimism, the first night’s sleep was rather disturbed by the squeaky bunk and it’s cold and clangy metal frame; all in accompaniment to drunken Europeans shouting in Spanish vulgarities from the bar across the street.
A tiresome day, but how could I not be happy? I was in Paris! La Louvre tomorrow!!!
