A series on my trip to Paris and the Champagne Region…
The day I left for France was the day Emotional A got fired by my boss – which was weird in and of itself. First of all, why wouldn’t her actual BOSS do this? Why wouldn’t her actual BOSS have any part of it? And why isn’t anything being done with Negative C who is a true nightmare to work with? Honestly, I wish I hadn’t even gone into work for a ½ day as my flight was that afternoon. Finally, at noon, I said fuck it all and simply left the office. I’d deal with work when I got back, but for now…on with the Champagne Campaign!
Went home, dropped the car off in the parking garage and headed for the train (across the street from my apartment), and the first incident was some kind of fight going on as the train pulled up to my stop. People yelling, screaming, passing out and throwing up. I believe there was some kind of drug issue going on. I also realized that Mercury was in Retrograde, so this was fitting. I’d also planned to allow plenty of time for these kinds of issues. I know better and I have to say that I’m a pretty excellent planner.
After about 15 minutes, I boarded the train and off I went, headed to the airport.
But wait! After 15 minutes on the train, one of the doors in my car wouldn’t close at one of the stations. The conductor came out and tried for about 10 minutes to get it shut, but to no avail. The whole train had to de-board and wait for another train. Again, luckily the next train to the airport was only about 10 minutes away. No biggie. However, my next concern was the plane!
Made it to the airport, still with plenty of time to go the airport lounge and to start the trip off right (finally), with a little bit of bubbles and this book about a street in Paris where I was staying (the Rue des Martrys), written by the former Paris bureau chief of the New York Times. It’s all about this neighborhood that has a lovely, quiet and extremely quaint feel. Perfect for a plane read and prep for my new temporary hood!
Plane ride was thankfully uneventful (no delays, no doors not closing, no puking!). Arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport a little sleepy, but excited for the adventure!
It took me a little while to figure out where to catch the train from the airport to the Gare du Nord (closest train station to my hotel), but it wasn’t too stressful. However, when I got to the train station and made my exit with my carry on bags in hand, I was turned around. I just started walking in the direction that I felt was right. But I didn’t do that for too long, because everything was foreign and my bags started to get heavy. So I stopped and looked at my phone for directions.
In prep for this trip, I’d downloaded a walking map app that doesn’t require any data use. It turns out this app was absolutely invaluable for finding my way around both Paris and Reims (when I got there). If you’re interested, it’s called maps.me , and it’s a free app. Highly recommended!
In hindsight, I probably should have taken a taxi to the hotel, because it ended up being about a half hour walk and my bags got super, super heavy by the time I made it to the hotel. But I made it!!
Checked into the SEXIEST hotel I think I’ve ever experienced. Of course, it’s called Hotel Amour and it did not disappoint. Every room (there are 24) was designed by either an artist, designer, or photographer (think Terry Richardson, who designed at least one of the rooms), and they are ALLLLL about SEXY. And of course, very Paris: small, no AC…and not even a phone in the room! But no matter, this place was oozing love, lust, whatever.
Unpacked and realized that my iPhone cord had been damaged at some point during my travels. And that was an absolute tragedy since I was planning on posting photos to Instagram and Facebook on the regular. When you’re traveling solo, at least for me, I want to share my experiences with somebody…anybody…everybody! Facebook was my connection to my friends and family, and though it wasn’t absolutely necessary, it was important for me to keep that connection.
So, it had been a few years since I’d been to Paris, but I knew exactly where the Apple store was in relation to my hotel. And it was not far. So I showered and primped a bit and started the walk to the Opera, again with the map, as there are some twists and turns to my journey.
Success! After practicing my broken French mixed with a whole lot of English, I was relieved to have my lifeline back.
And then back to the hotel where I knew I needed to get a power nap in before I was supposed to meet my college sweetheart, Sam, for dinner that evening. I had about an hour.
But no sooner did my head hit the pillow (look up, there’s a mirrored ceiling!), than there was a KNOCK on my DOOR that scared me to death!
Turns out, Sam was finished with work early and was already there – at my door! Remember, the hotel has no phones, so I guess they just let the guy up! The good news is that (1) I’d already taken a shower and was partially already dressed for dinner, and (2)I didn’t have time to get nervous!
I opened the door to hugs and kisses from Sam!
Alas, no butterflies.
He looked good – just like his photos on Facebook (we’d kept in touch at a distance since he’s married and all). But I didn’t really get those old feelings back. Clearly, 25 years had gone by and though I was happy to see him, I was actually relieved that I didn’t feel those excruciating feelings that you feel for a recent breakup, you know? Lots and lots of water under that bridge.
I let him into the room so he could have a look around and so that I could get myself ready for dinner. I changed my top and my shoes and that’s when the nerves kind of kicked in because I could tell he was nervous! Maybe it was because I changed my top in front of him? Ha. We had a lot of chatter between the two of us, and we had a lot of time before our dinner plans (which had changed to us meeting one of his friends at a wine bar on the other side of Montmartre), so I suggested we have a drink in the lovely green-covered courtyard of the hotel.
So drinks in the courtyard garden were a lifesaver. It was there we caught up a bit and talked family and such. A lot of superficial chatter. His kids are nearly grown (18-year-old twin girls and a 16-year-old boy), his job, my job…yada, yada.
Then we started our walk to meet Pascal, his Parisian friend at the wine bar. Our walk was incredible! Up the hill of Montmartre, up the side streets lined with all of the street art. We missed the gypsy beggars and pickpockets by taking the side streets, but still made it up to the top where the gorgeous view is. I took some photos and then we walked back down the other side to the 18th Arrondissement – Pascal’s neighborhood.
Pascal was waiting for us at the corner café and it was a wonderful little place with NO TOURISTS whatsoever. Pascal is a lovely gentleman with silver hair and a half smile and a love of delicious food and red wine (naturally!). Sam and Pascal were kind enough to speak English the entire time during our wine tastings along with l’apero (small dishes of cheese, charcuterie, baguette and toasts with various meats)…and that ended up being our entire dinner because we talked and drank and nibbled for hours and hours!
It was a magical evening. The weather was warm with a breeze just cool enough for me to wear my wrap. The night fell and we laughed. The conversation flowed amazingly…Sam and I touched each other as we talked. It was like old times…yet, still no sparks from my end.
After dinner, we found ourselves much too drunk to walk back up Montmartre and back down, so Sam and I bid adieu to Pascal and proceeded to the Metro. The ride was a bit blurry, and somehow we found ourselves having a nightcap at the café across the street from my hotel…and then somehow we found ourselves back in my sexy little hotel room…
And then SOMEHOW I found myself kissing Sam, drunkenly. Still no vibes, and now my eyes were wobbly and I just wanted to go to sleep.
Sam asked if he could spend the night, but I used the excuse that I have too much respect for his marriage to allow him to do that. Though it was a wonderful night of catching up and meeting new friends, he needed to go. I wasn’t mean, and I wasn’t absolutely firm, but he got the message and left.
It was sweet relief when he left. It was strange. I found myself saying to myself that I’m very glad we didn’t marry when we were younger (he and I actually lived together in college and were very serious). He’s still a very happy-go-lucky man, and that’s what I loved about him when I was younger. But it was also what I really didn’t love about him too. Just a “whatever” kind of guy. I didn’t feel much passion from him. I felt a “I could take it or leave it” vibe…and he would have stayed and had sex with me if I’d let him, and that was somewhat a disappointment. Because I’m sure if he’d made a big passion play, I would have eaten it up and let him make sweet and even raunchy love to me. The setting was absolutely perfect for it. But he was so “meh” about it, so au revoir, my former sweetheart. He left without so much as a whimper.
I then slept like a baby in that room where I’m sure many babies were made.
What a day, that Day 1!
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