Day 30: Paris Impressions

They say when you meet someone, first impressions are important. Well, I think it also works for visiting places. It’s always the first impression that sets the tone for how you will react to what happens next.

I was a bit on the low side this morning because I really liked Ostend, I liked the no pace, no rush beach scene. You just strolled. Nothing in your mind but the sun, sand and sea. I adored the cool breeze, I found it absolutely refreshing. The day started a bit grey as well. But it’s another day and another city.

It was odd that I hopped on the train at 646am at Ostend and by the time 11am came around, I was in Paris. It didn’t seem like 5hours to me. Of course there was a few bumps, like when I found the right car, my seat and had settled myself when an older Frenchman interrupted me insisting I was in his seat. I showed him my ticket, I told him this was coach 13, his ticket is coach 12 but he insisted and I just didn’t have enough confidence in myself, so I grabbed my things, ran down with all my baggage and asked the conductor and he confirmed that I was in the right coach. “Well, someone just kicked me out of my seat.” I said. He was getting the train and passengers ready to go, so he said as soon as he got the train going, he’d come up.

So I went back and told him firmly, this is my seat. He capitulated and I noticed another man who was watching the exchange, smiling. I don’t know if it was because I was obviously pissed about leaving and came storming back and smiling for my standing up to the boar, or if he was laughing at me. Our eyes met and instead of a challenge, his eyes told me he was smiling for me.

I was going to sleep, but that encounter riled me up so I ended up reading a bit. I don’t know where my head was but I really didn’t feel the hour fly by so quickly. Before I knew it, we were getting ready to arrive in Paris Nord.

I found myself walking out of the station and luckily my Airbnb host had given me good direction and I also swear by an app called Metro that has guided me through many a city’s metro stations.

When I walked up the stairs of the metro and found myself standing on Rue St Michel, I was actually excited. I’ve roamed almost all over Europe for 4weeks and it’s Paris that really got my heart racing. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed my stays, well most of them, because it was still a new place. Good or bad, each city was an experience and that is all I was going for.

But Paris is always spoken with awe and longing. I would bet it’s on everyone’s bucket list. But several years ago, I dropped Europe out of my bucket list. I thought it was always out of my budget, not enough time, going for two weeks to Europe would be nothing but a tease and I don’t like that. But here I am, suddenly, wonderfully, out of the blue, I got a lot of items checked off my bucket list and I feel so wonderful. I got to do things I didn’t even know would qualify as an item on my bucket list. Religious pilgrimage? Me, the sarcastic cynic?

So many cities and places were underwhelming. The actual realities of some places weren’t simply disappointing but at times, felt like sheer betrayal.

When I was a child, the first book I ever read that did not have any illustrations was this book called “The Prettiest Gargoyle” a story about a boy who’s family moves to Paris, he’s sad because he just wants to go back home. Until he meets a girl hiding on the roof of Notre Dame. Thus the prettiest gargoyle. It was when I realized I could use my own imagination when I read a book. Thus began my lifelong love of books. And my fascination with Paris. I think I was 7 or 8 at the time. Then when I was 12yo, I read Dickens’ “Tale of Two Cities” and I spent that summer signing my name as Sydney Carton.

So imagine what my life became when I wrote off Paris from my bucket list.

I corrected that this year and the minute I set foot in Paris, my heart thudded, I grew excited and suddenly I was that 8yo child looking for the prettiest gargoyle. I was in Paris Freaking France!

I scored an apartment in the St. Germain area, right by the left bank. Every single space of sidewalk is covered by either a used book store or a café. I wandered around to get myself acclimated to the area and I didn’t realize that I found Notre Dame.

Paris seems like an odd dichotomy. It’s beautiful and ugly, it’s bright but dirty. It’s busy and dynamic but seemed to be taking it’s time. Paris is like being a man, watching a woman he  just met and wondering what it is about her that caught his eye. He hasn’t made up his mind what it is, but he’s fascinated.

I was thrilled to stand in the shadow of the Sorbonne, but distressed by the woman and baby sleeping on a foam mattress on the corner. I was fascinated to step into the Notre Dame Cathedral and dismayed that no one seemed to understand it was a religious icon. I wanted to pay my respects, but I had run out of coins. All I had was a €20 bill, so I asked from one of the saleswoman IN THE AISLES OF THE CHURCH SELLING RELIGIOUS THINGS, if she could change my bill for me so I could light candles in respect. She told me no, gave me the notorious French arrogance and walked away. There was no point in pursuing my show of respect where there is no respect expected.

I was fascinated by the way the traffic lights work, you have to pay attention to not one but two lights. And you don’t cross at the corner, you cross just a bit off the corner. At one place, I missed the crossing space and ended up walking 3 different corners before I figured it out.

I was confused by the Parisian insistence at the metro of standing right by the door when a few feet away was plenty of space, instead they cram themselves, pushing and shoving unaware of more space mere feet away.

I admired the beagle who sat quietly at his owners feet while, calmly ignoring the many feet that came and went before him. I had to respect the woman who stood at a corner greeting people with “BONJOUR!” her voice full of joy and delight and persisting when everyone else ignored her. I respected the man who waved a large bottle of water arguing with himself and walking a bit sideways as he walked up the sidewalk. He wasn’t on a phone. I helped an older woman who was struggling with her bag climbing up the metro stairs. I said “May I assist?” with an accent. American’s don’t say things like “May I assist?” So the woman who was a Brit, struggled to thank me in French.

I didn’t realize that Paris is actually a bit hilly with the random dip and staircases. Either I had my head down looking at my gps on the phone or I was staring up at the buildings, something had to give. So I put the phone away. And oddly enough, despite the many turns and the tiny little streets, I managed to imagine the city as a grid as if I were in Chicago and I still found my way home.

I’ve noticed that very recently. Brussel, Ostend, Ghent, Brugge and now Paris. I remember how I would second guess myself, turning myself around just when I was about to arrive where I needed to be. Then I ran into Madrid that just messed me up completely. But since Madrid, I’ve found a certainty I didn’t have before. Suddenly, if I found myself in an unfamiliar place, I didn’t worry, I just knew that I would find myself.

My ‘home’ is not perfect, I sit downstairs at the small kitchen table typing away this late night as my TV is on upstairs in my loft bedroom. It’s hot up there, a bit cramped and no AC nor fan.

But again, it’s called adapting. I’m beginning to understand what I will and won’t put up with and I’m learning to stand up for myself.

Day 29: Day Tripping

I had every intention of waking early and taking the short train trip out to Ghent and Brugge. Instead, I hit the snooze on my alarm for over an hour until I finally gave up and got out of bed. Then when I went downstairs, I found out that breakfast was included in my room rate. It was a breakfast buffet English-breakfast style. There was English bacon, sausage and beans. As well as the ubiquitous salami, turkey and cheese deli slices. I love their coffee makers that allow you to choose, coffee, cappuccino, hot milk, hot water or hot chocolate. So I have chocafe whenever the opportunity affords me.

Then after only one plate, showing a control I usually don’t have whenever food is buffet style, I took the tram out to the train station. I made the earlier train that was leaving at 10:09, it would get me to Ghent around 10:30, which didn’t really make me happy because I knew, I was late in waking up.

It wasn’t until I got to the train station that I realized I had forgotten my Eurail pass that would have allowed me to ride for free at my hotel. I ended up paying an unnecessary  20 euros. The first ride was  9.20 from Ostend to Ghent, but the ticket machine only took coins, it wouldn’t take bills and the ticket machines don’t take international cards. The ticket machines for the metros also don’t take international credit cards. Luckily, the ticket machine took all my coins, which is what I had to do to get the ticket for the train leaving in 2mins.

When I got to Ghent, I looked at that popular website to find out what to do in Ghent. It said, go to the city center. So I hopped on the tram, after a nice security guard gave me precise directions in English on which tram to take and where to buy tickets. Unlike Spain, Belgians don’t just vaguely wave you away.

I got on the tram, crammed with people. And when people started exiting the tram in large numbers, I asked a girl if this was the center and she said yes, so I got off. She was wrong. I was about another 3 blocks short of the city center. But the walk was easy, small cobblestone streets and for a small city, it sure had a lot of designer brand name retailers as well as H&M and McDonalds.

I found the center crammed with giant cranes. Again, another city in remodel mode. I’ve found that if you watch out for asian tourists, they usually have found a nice photo op. So when I saw a few of them standing on a bridge pointing and posing, I walked up the bridge.

It was a nice view, but once you’ve been in Amsterdam, a canal is just another city river. I wasn’t all that impressed. There were old medieval castles and gothic churches and well, I’ve just had my fill of those for a while. So I found some nice shots to take and headed quickly back to the train station to leave for Brugge.

Brugge was the bigger town, the only reason I know about it is because there was a movie about mobsters in Brugge. Why Brugge and Ghent, are spelled differently depending on what you are reading, I don’t know but I spell them the way I know them. Ghent is called Gent or Gint Sin Pieters train stop. Brugge is Brugge or Bruge depending on what you’re reading. Do they have an identity issue?

I got to Brugge having caught the train just as I got to the train station. Again, I didn’t know what I was supposed to be looking for in this city, so I just hopped on a train to the city center, which I assumed they called ‘Centrum’, I didn’t think they were referring to the vitamin brand.

As you pass through Brugge on the train, you’d be utterly unimpressed. But go towards the Centrum and you see the medieval town it used to be. The narrow cobblestone streets, gothic churches and old castles. I went ahead and entered the Historium, an odd display of a day in the life of Jacob, an assistant of painter Jan Van Eyck(I saw some of his painting at The Prado). It’s a day of the golden age of Brugge in the year 1435, when Brugge was “the New York City of it’s time”, as it was told in the display.

But what it really got me was a nice view of the centrum plaza. It was nice. I walked by every one of the restaurants to look at their menus. Fleming stew, rabbit stew, fish and chips, steak and Bicky burgers! I was wondering about bicky burgers, now having googled it, I’m glad I didn’t order it. Usually anything deep fried sounds good but I’m not into eating horse meat.

Not finding anything appetizing, I strolled back through the streets until I got past the cute spots and then hopped on a bus and went back to the train station. I really wanted to go back to Ostend.

I’m staying in Ostend, obviously a seaside resort with many British vacationers since quite a lot of the menus in the restaurants offer “English Breakfasts” even my hotel. The TV shows channels BBC 1, 2 and 4. There’s also a channel of BBC1 that has a descriptive narrative during the show.

But most people I know have never heard of Ostend. The only reason I know of it is because they had a hotel name I recognized and I was able to get a room based on points and dollars rather than staying in Brussels. Besides, any city on the ocean is fine by me.

Now Ostend has a special place in my heart. It’s not just because they have this big, wide beach with a gorgeous wide seaside promenade. The Albert I Promenade is cement tile which allows pedestrians, bikers, children and pets to wander about and enjoy the distinct seaside stroll. The days I’ve been here, the weather has been so nice, bright blue skies, warm but not scorching sun and a cool, ocean breeze.

No, it isn’t just all that. It’s not just because there is a Chinese grocery store just a few doors down from my hotel where I picked up instant noodle soups and snacks that satisfy the latent Asian in me.

It isn’t that they have all kinds of restaurants, and almost all have got sidewalk seating. The ones on the promenade, have tables that set up their guest to face the ocean completely. It sort of looks odd to me, to see a line of mostly geriatric people staring out at the ocean.

It isn’t that Ostend, although facing the North Sea still have people not only sunbathing or swimming in the chilly waters, but body boarding as well as sailing. It isn’t that they have actual sand castles themed on Disney’s “Frozen”.

It isn’t that Ostend has been the first place where I found a second hand bookstore run by a little old man.

It isn’t that despite only being here only 2 nights, spending only 2 afternoons here, I am able to leave the train station and find myself not just to my hotel but to that Chinese grocers without having to use my GPS. In fact my GPS couldn’t find me!

It’s because all of this. Basically, this is the place, I really should have spent more time in. I would love to come back to Ostend and stay longer next time. Maybe when it’s warmer.

Day 28: Belgian Waffles

I was delightedly surprised to find that my ride to the airport was on time. But I had a very rough night and my appetite deserted me. Even a strong cup of coffee couldn't help my fatigue and weariness. So I found two empty seats at the gate and promptly curled up and closed my eyes.

Happily, I woke to the announcement that our flight was boarding. So I stumbled along to my seat knowing I could sleep for two hours. Sadly my seat mate also slept, except he snored rather loudly. I slept in fits and starts and found no respite.

What I really appreciate about Europe is how the trains, airports and city centers are easily connected. Upon landing at the Brussels airport, I was able to take the train out to Brussels Centraal. Where in a few steps, I was standing at the cobble stone street of central Brussels. The streets seemed even tinier by the tables and chairs laid across for diners. 

It's always nice to be able to eat al fresco. But Europeans really love their open air eating. In a few short turns, following little signs directing me to the Grand Palace, I turned into a large open plaza bordered by large, intricately decorated buildings trimmed in gold paint. I hope it's just gold paint and not actual gold. 

I took pictures as did every one else who stumbled upon the plaza. Our necks craned and we continued to walk backwards to try to encompass the entire structure in one photo frame. 

I looked for a place to eat and odd, I wandered into a little window that sold churros and waffles. After all, how could I be in Belgium and NOT have waffles? I almost asked her to marry me when she added layer and layer of whipped cream on my order! 

I noted the irony of the name and my bottled water.

Then as I walked back to the train station, I saw what I later learned was the Les Galeries Saint Hubert. So I saw the first mall in Europe? Unfortunately, the train station didn't have a locker area for me to leave my backpack so I was stumbling around with the extra load. Thus, I wasn't all that keen to wander about with the extra weight on my back.

Belgium didn't translate their train announcements into English and it was only my nervous tick that kept me glancing at the platform sign that I realized they had switched platforms. I ran up the stairs, a feat I am incredulous to have achieved, and ran down to the right platform. I wasn't the only one huffing and puffing with relief.

It's a quick 90min ride out to Ostend where I'm staying. The only reason I'm staying at Ostend is that Brussels was just too expensive, which, after I have seen it, really didn't make any sense to me.

Plus, Ostend is only 15mins away from Brugges and 30 mins away from Ghent.

I walked around Ostend, finding the Oceanside teaming with people enjoying the bright sunny day. As with Brussels, the Chinese tour group showed up here too!

It was a nice long walk, as chilly and bracing as the wind was, I was surprised at the number of people sunbathing and some actually swimming in the North Sea.

I just took my time, stretching my legs and enjoying the day with just the wind at my back and the sun in my face. 

This is the kind of vacation day I should have planned. Doing nothing but wandering, instead, I put myself on an itinerary, cramming everything I could into the shortest point in time. What kind of madness has infected me? When will I learn to slow down?