Flew in on Aer Lingus through Dublin. Big hit was being 20 yards from a couple of cows who were checking me out sitting on the runway, looking out my plane window at them, awaiting take-off to Paris. They were standing in mud behind a old wooden fence. I got us window seats on the right hand side so we could see the Eiffel Tower as we approached the city and we did.
Wanted to ride their version of the Airport Downtown Express (hello Johnny Wilson, Norman Naquin and Leonard “Shadow” Parfait) to town. The people at the airport thought we were crazy (we are) because it takes forever but we had time to kill before we could check in. The RER B train gets to town in half the time but is no fun.
Actually found the 350 bus after some conversation. Was told it wouldn’t stop at terminal one (international terminal) by the info desk. (Of course after we went to terminal 3 it went back by terminal 1 and stopped) Bought a Carte De Dix (ten ticket T+ paper electronic tickets which is good for two zones - you need three tickets to get to central Paris on the bus) with Euros we purchased/dollar exchanged from our bank back home. The gal at the tourist desk spoke very good English and had a good sense of humor. The ongoing joke is I say something like (written in my Franglish) Es ca vous comprene l’anglais and the funny answer is no and then watch your reaction as you realize you’re screwed. We both laughed though, it’s a good one. Took the tickets and boarded the shuttle train (CDGVAL)to go to terminal 3 and Roissypole. Asking a few people who work the concessions we figured out how to walk outside and we found the 350 taking a stand at the bus terminal. The driver was pre-occupied and a passenger helped us run the six tickets through the firebox reader. We walked to the back stored our bags under the seats and waited. During the ride to town we got to see the melting pot that greater Paris is. Lots of people from all over the world got on and off. I had to sit with my feet on my bag to make room for all the standees. The disability accessible low floor bus means most of the seats face the aisle or backwards. Better getting on and off but not so good to see the sights. The open wheelchair access areas were taken up with kids in strollers most of the way. Some went up front and paid, some didn’t. The operator was more concerned with traffic, which was considerable. The firebox is behind the driver behind a panel. I’m not sure he can even see it.
We walked along Canal St. Martin (beautiful canal, beautiful day) from Gare d’est (which is a fairly short distance from Gare d’Nord - nobody seems to know why the north and east terminals are so close together) to our hotel (about 3/4 mile) and voila’ our room was ready for us - scare bleu!
I went for a walk over to Republique Square and Ruth laid down to recover from the marathon plane ride and massive jet lag.
Then the fun began.
Several times the door opened (while I was there and while I was walking) with people checking into their room, which we already occupied. This went on for hours Ruth was lagged so bad she was only half awake. I finally went down to the desk and the night clerk said we weren’t in 305, even though I had the electronic keys and a folder with 305 on it. Then he said somebody must have made a mistake. It was he that was making the mistakes, nes pa? Eventually he blamed the computer and finally left us alone to sleep. He couldn’t understand why we were sleeping so much. There was quite a lot he didn’t understand.
Anyway, next day I asked the weekend clerk for some help in booking a double decker bus tour. I asked for a two day ride voucher. He (un-be-knownest to both of us, apparently) sold me a one day with a bateau ride, which the driver at BigBus pointed out to me in writing (French of course) and I just argued for a few minutes and went with the flow. We rode the red route, got off to board the blue route and it started to rain. Then the Blue bus (which is Red, of course) refused to show up. Then the police showed up, Somebody claimed to have planted a bomb down the street and everything was halted. In Republique, the day before we watched a dozen police vehicles with swat show up to respond to a bomb threat. The people at BigBus walked us down three blocks in the driving rain and when we got down there he walked us back three blocks to wait for Godot. Ruth decided to shop. Later the bus showed up and Ruth showed up and we rode around in the rain.
We had ridden the #9 to the #7 Metro from Oberkampf to l’Opera and was going to reverse the process to go back. We took a close by elevator down to the Metro, found the entrance to the 7. We had purchased another carte de dix the day before and had ridden down to the Seine and walked around and went from Gare de Austerlitz to Champ du Mars. Funny thing is, the best way to go was the RER C. We went to the boarding area for the C and a bunch of people in red suits explained to us the there was no RER C. Of course there are signs everywhere. It’s on the map. It has a station but we were told no, there is no RER C. I later learned that the people who operate the RER C were having a picnic in a park. They were on strike that day. Nobody seemed to want to acknowledge it. We went around on the Metro and took a few Metro lines and walked a quarter mile as an alternative.
Anyway this day, going back from l’Opera, I got out two tickets we fed them into the turnstile, the turnstile flipped and we walked forward an opening and closing barrier which immediately closed. The turnstile released and let us through but we were trapped between the turnstile and the barrier. A local gal saw our predicament and used her pass to free us. We walked up two flights of stairs and was met with a cordon or blue jump suited transit police? (They had name tags and little hand held machines but didn’t identify themselves) doing a spot check and and asking for tickets. A guy scanned Ruth’s and said, okay, go ahead, then another gal got my ticket and said it was expired. I showed her the ten tickets we had recently purchased. She looked at the writing and said they were for next week but the one I used was from last week. At that point it just got weird like something out of Clockwork Orange. They told us the machine wrote letters on the tickets (it doesn’t),
[note: actually it does...I was wrong]
the tickets were for timed periods (they aren’t). Anyway, long story short they mugged (officially) us for 75 Euros apiece for not having a valid tickets on the platform. Ruth was livid but what are you going to do? We were processed by their bureaucracy and found wanting. It is true saw numerous people jumping the turnstiles and that is what they were trying to catch. It is also true they didn’t seem to fully understand much about the tickets or the situation, nor did they care. Approach the people coming up the stairs, electronically swipe their ticket and see if it said valid or not. What might have happened or what intent or any human concerns were irrelevant. But hey, this wasn’t Disney Paris, where is you’re a paying customer and show your tickets they try to figure out what happened this was a system run by people who are guaranteed employment for life and who are not really concerned about “customers” only about following orders and collecting fines. Like I said, we were mugged by the system.
Also.
There is a high fence all the way around the Eiffel Tower and security braces everyone who has pre-purchased a ticket and goes through turnstiles and glass walls. You no longer can walk anywhere close to it. The city is almost under siege. The transit workers are staging a protest most days with open fires and smoke, etc. The labor government has promised them everything they want which includes a laundry list of guaranteed everything. Now they recognize they don’t have the funds to fulfill the promises as employees grow older and expect to be paid for life with benefits. I will say the Metro trains pretty much ran like they were supposed to. The 350 bus had electronic signage to show where you were enroute.
Transit buses have side windows that pop out in case of fire or if they lay over. They are a pain in the rump. The M.A.N. bus (German) we rode in had little red sharp pointed hammers mounted between all the windows. Each window has a decal showing a hand breaking the window with the little red hammer. So you save on needing pop out windows but you arm the populace with little red hammers with sharp little steel points. Amazing.
Anyway. Paris is big. Old. Ornate. Gilded. Napoleon still stands as a statue with a wreath of laurel on his head pretending to be a Roman Emperor. Hubris abounds. Many people are nice and accommodating and most wear tight black clothes, frown and act like insufferable a**holes while they power walk over you. Big city people? Maybe. At some point you do what you can to enjoy yourself and try to deal with the incompetence, which I guess is epidemic, not just in France. I came to see and take photographs. I have accomplished that and will be posting photos soon. That has been fun for me. I drag Ruth along but she has enjoyed seeing the city from the top of the double decker
Anyway Bon Jour from Paris. We shall overcome it. The best revenge is forgiveness and generosity. Welcome to Paris.
Post Script
Tried to ride back to Republique from Hotel de Ville on the 11 and none of the turnstiles worked. Tried to find a bus stop to no avail and went back down and went through the turnstiles that weren't functioning with hundreds of others. Normally if the thing quits working it lets people in. I tried to contact them on the intercom and no one answered. Modern problems. We did ride the bus this morning and it was a great ride on an IVECO.
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