For the first time on a ‘moving’
day we didn’t have far to drag our suitcases. It was an easy walk this morning
from our cheap, chain hotel to Euston International Station. We had a date with a train to Paris. Everyone talked about
the Eurostar – Hugh’s dad to say it was outdated, his wife Margie to say it was
great fun, and our travel agent to tell us how much money we would save flying
out from Paris instead of London.
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| St. Pancras Station |
It was bad advice. Take the flight
out of London. The Eurostar was old and outdated – and incredibly squishy.
Once we’d battled to get our
luggage to fit (The Eurostar did not have nearly enough spaces for luggage) the
Eurostar actually chugged along nicely – until it got to the tunnel. I’m just
going to say that I don’t like enclosed spaces – particularly when there is no
way to exit them. So the tunnel bit I was ok with, because it had open ends.
The train malfunctioning during the power change-over I was not ok with. I was
wondering why the train had been sitting at the mouth of the tunnel for a quarter of an hour when an announcement
came over that we were unable to connect to the tunnel power grid, and
essentially we would lose power entirely for an undefined amount of time –
including the ability to open cabin doors and the air-conditioning. Best way to
get me into a panic attack ever. Despite it being winter, once the power went
out the cabin heated up pretty fast. We sat without power for an hour before it
finally came back on and we could continue our journey.
I was happy when I could get out of
the cramped seats at Paris – having spent an hour more than expected on them.
We checked our bags into the Left
Luggage area as soon as we arrived, intent on spending the day exploring, as
our flight didn’t leave Charles De Gaulle until 7pm at night. Paris wasn’t really
on the same page as we were though.
Before leaving the train station I
went to use the ladies facilities, and came back out to see what looked like an
impending fist-fight between a British tourist and a Parisian about some money
that the Parisian had stolen from the British guy. Loads of people were
standing around gawking, including the security guards who were laughing
instead of stopping any fight from happening. Hugh and I left the train station
as quickly as we could.
Outside the train station was no
better. We stopped in for some super duper expensive crepes (disappointing
crepes. I’ve had way better in Australia) for lunch, then headed to the Sacre
Coeur. Within a few minutes of starting our walk I felt uncomfortable. We saw a
man harass a woman with her 2 children for money and
then the thief from the train station walked past us. As we got closer to the
Sacre Coeur I was feeling very out of my comfort zone. There were scams
happening left right and centre. We eventually made our way through the crowd
in the streets nearby and found the Sacre Coeur itself. I have a vague
recollection that it was quite impressive for the outside, but I didn’t get
much chance to look, as anybody who entered the are was beset by illegal
immigrants trying to scam or sell you things, every 2 steps. Or in the case of one gentleman, spitting at us when we didn't give him any Euros.
Almost as soon as
we arrived, we turned around and left. An hour after arriving in Paris, we had decided we had enough.
It was a horrible, smelly, the French were incredibly rude, and it made me feel
so uneasy. So we collected our bags from the deposit, somehow found our way
through and headed straight off to the airport – 7 hours earlier than planned.
When we arrived we had about 4 hours until we could even check in our bags, so
we sat on the outside of the airport, where there were a few cafes, and wasted
time there. It was a much better choice than staying in Paris. I wouldn’t go
back to that place if you paid me to go.
Several hours later we eventually
got to board the plane for a 10 hour trip to Incheon. We had a quick 3 hour
layover, where we got to use the free showers, and got to take part in the free
cultural activities, which included decorating a hand-mirror that I got to take
home as a souvenir.
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| Decorated hand mirror |
We boarded the next plane and
finally arrived back in Brisbane at 7am the next morning, to discover that somewhere in Paris, someone had scanned Hugh's credit card and made multiple purchases off it. I had a thought later that the 'fight' in the train station was probably not real, but a chance for someone to walk around and steal details while everyone was distracted. Thanks Paris, just another thing I'll remember you for. Luckily, the rest of our holiday was amazing, and we just joke about Paris now (our bank refunded the money which was great).
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| First things First at home: Updating the fridge! |
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