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| That ish cray. |
I am Nora Ephron's non-jewish wet dream.
RIP Ma'am, because the day I realized that I wasn't "Carrie" and, instead, I was trapped in one of your novels...everything changed. Though, I actually feel great about my neck.
If you don't have time to get all wrapped up in this tale, here's the long and short of it.
At the beginning of this entry, your beloved yet quirky female lead will get blindsided physically, emotionally and spiritually. In the middle, she'll do something radical. Her friends will think she's crazy. She'll spend money she doesn't have, but will do it anyway. Why? Stasis = Death. (Shout out to "Save The Cat".)
She'll keep referencing back to "Eat, Pray, Love" to justify her travel decisions and at the end of the story, she'll realize that the one she should have been with all along was right there waiting patiently.
....And that she's gonna be 40.
Someday.
But first, a little WebMD lesson. Dim the lights...cue the slide show.
Let me introduce you to a little heart condition called "Pericarditis".
Pericarditis is a condition in which the sac-like covering around the heart (pericardium) becomes dangerously inflamed. It restricts heart movement. It hinders breathing. It feels like a heart attack.
It fucking sucks.
And I had it.
It's actually pretty harmless if you catch it early enough, which I did. However, when you first get hit with it, you're pretty much doing a Fred Sandford impression, clutching your chest, warning Elizabeth that you're coming to join her Honey.
The pain is fucking intense and you're pretty sure death is around the corner.
And though I tend to eat relatively healthy, I didn't think about that when I realized my heart was going batshit. Instead, I began to think about every piece of fried nastiness ever shoved into my pie hole. Every pat of butter I've ever slapped on a biscuit. Every drunken post-happy hour run to KFC. (OK. If I'm being honest, White Castle. I know...I know.)
However, at the end of my ER visit (after three EKGs, three sets of blood work, a chest x-ray, all while spending the night next to a crackhead, who was all vomit everything whenever she wasn't moaning "Aaaaiii...it huuuuurts!", ) I was given a prescription for some NSAIDs and told to cut down on the Zumba.
Shortly thereafter, and still not fully recovered, I went through a breakup. A bad one.
...via Blackberry.
Yes, I got "Berger"'d.
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| It's so rare to get a hand written note these days... |
And, to make matters worse, my "Call In Case Of Emergency Break Up G-Spot Magnet Guy" had fallen in love while I was all cuddled up with the dude who I thought was "The One". (No hate. Good for him.) So I didn't even have a Bootie Call to get me over the hump....so to speak.
And, thanks to no Zumba and crying into boxes of KFC, I'd gained 10lbs. OK. 15lbs.
And I'm gonna be 40.
...Someday.
Anyhoo...
So while I'm spending way too much time on Facebook, pouring myself another overflowing glass of self-pity, I come across an ad for Iceland Air. And as soon as I saw it...I knew. Fucking book it.
"New York to Paris - $600 Roundtrip. Taxes included."
Don't think. Fucking book it.
This was on my bucket list. "So was getting married." said my inner Bitch.
Only one of these things at the present time was within my control.
So I bought the ticket. *fingersnap* Just like that.
And then...I panicked.
Wholly shit. I'm going to Paris. For ten days! With no place to stay...no plan... and no more french under my belt than "merci" and "au revior". But fuck that. I deserved this trip. God wouldn't have dangled the ticket in front of me if I wasn't supposed to take it...right? Right.
Now, despite the "Ball so hard muthafuckas wanna find me..." sentiment, I learned pretty quickly, n*ggas do NOT have to spend their life savings in Paris. You CAN actually do this trip economically and still have an amazing time. Here's how.
TRAVEL
Time of year and airline is KEY!
Like I said, my fantastic air deal came from
Iceland Air . With one little (less than two hours) layover in Reykjavik, I'd find myself in the most romantic city on Earth...with a broken heart.
Somehow, this made sense. Thankfully, I wasn't going in Spring, which would have just been ridiculous. I decided to go at the beginning of fall. Which, by the way, is just as romantic. If not more so. It reminds you that you have nobody to cuddle up with. (Cue periotte clown.)
Next step? Find someone fun to go with so I didn't just stuff myself with croissants, chain smoke in cafes and throw myself in the Seine.
So I called my usual travel buddy, who was more than happy to go, BUT he'd be visiting his boyfriend in Switzerland for a few days so...I'd be alone. Eating croissants. Chain smoking. Wondering how cold the Seine gets late October.
I threw the invitation out to my new ABFFs (Adult BFF) Elsi and she managed to turn my tragic film noir trip into an episode of "Ab/Fab".
"Of COURSE I'll come Darling...Sweetie!"
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| Get you some "DownForWhatever" Girlfriends. STAT! |
Awesome. Now, since the American dollar is worth about the same as a sack of magic pork and beans in Europe, accommodations (that didn't resemble a scene from "Hostel") would be tricky.
What solves this problem?
BED AND BREAKFASTS! They're cheaper and usually located in t's automatically one of your meals eliminated! Pow! But I'm getting ahead of myself.
DINING & ACTIVITIES:
You're in Paris! Pretty much, everywhere you go will be beautiful and the food will be awesome, yet overpriced. However, you should plan your itinerary in advance. Since you've had breakfast in the B&B, you've only got lunch and dinner to worry about! Win!
Be sure to sign up for discount deals via sights like
Living Social or
Group On. (The sites are in French, but hey. That's why (insert your higher power here) gave us Google Translate.) You can pre-purchase dinner and use your voucher there. Also, try to go the fancier places for lunch only. They usually serve the same menu as dinner, but the difference is, the meal is half price.
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| And wine costs less than Pepsi. How can you NOT love this place? |
Apprendre au moins une FRANÇAIS PETIT:
The French are not rude. They just think Americans are jerks and if you pay any attention to the news, can you blame them? Oddly enough, just as with other countries I've visited, the French actually like Black people. (It's just the people in our own damn country who don't. It's mind boggling. Anyhoo...) They're heavy on respect over there, and since you're black, chances are, you're automatically going to understand them. They're really close to "Momma Rules".
For example: You don't come into somebody's without saying hello, attempting to communicate and being respectful, right? Well France is THEIR HOME. And you're in it.
How would you feel if somebody walked into your house, started speaking Japanese, yelling at you because you're not moving fast enough and acted all superior? You'd call them an asshole, wouldn't you? Same thing here. So, I urge you to at least TRY to speak French. Yes, it's true almost all Parisians speak "l'anglis" but they won't until you try to parle francais. Se va?
Best way to learn quickly? Live with a French family for a month.
Second best way? Fluenz
I don't know WHY this program is so damn good, but it is! I've tried Pimsleur, Rosetta Stone and patient friends and this one taught me enough to impress the shit out of some Parisians. So learn at least enough to function in a restaurant. Because you're going to need it. Why?
Waiters And Cab Drivers Don't Give A Shit About You
Unlike in the good ole States, the waiters and the cab drivers get paid a working salary. Just like you. So they don't have to be nice. As a matter of fact, they don't have to speak to your smug American, non-French ass. You can stand there forever and a day saying "Excuse me.." and not until you say, "Pardon Monsieur.." will they even bat a barely interested eye in your direction.
And whatever you do..do NOT call them "garçon". Despite what you've heard, it does not mean "waiter". It means, "boy" and it's a derogatory insult. Say that shit and starve.
But if they DO like you, the waiter will not hesitate to try and smash. He won't get fired. It's Paris.
Also remember, that there is no tipping in Paris. Since they get paid a working wage, it's not necessary. However, feel free to leave a complimentary Euro or two if you'd like.
As for the cabs...well, unless you're going REALLY far, it's not worth it for them. Unlike in NYC, the shorter the distance, the worse it is for them. They don't want to work very hard, so a long leisurely drive is best for them. Also... trying to get one after 1AM is fucking impossible.
No, I didn't say hard. I said FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE. The Metro stops running and people are literally camped out and sleeping on the street until it starts up again because there are NO TAXIS past 1AM. Especially if you can't speak French. So if you're leaving (wherever) past 1AM, you'd better have a car or a bike. OR... you can learn the bus system (which is a bit shady). Just have a back up.
Speaking of the Metro...
New Yorkers Can Rock The Metro Like A Boss
If you're from New York and you can tell me how to get from 86th and Lexington to 23rd and 8th Ave on the Subway, you're going rock this shit. You're going to rock it so hard, you're just going to lounge around and take photos to PROVE how hard you rocked this shit.
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| Look at me. Rocking this shit. |
The Paris Metro is CRAZY easy and it's the best way to get around. The trains come crazy quick and they have rush hour as well. And OH...two more things.
The doors will not automatically open. You have to open it yourself. We almost missed our damn stop trying to figure this shit out.
And lastly...the people smell. No, not the homeless people. THE people. Not everyone of course, but a lot of them. And it's going to take you a day or so to get used to it. Standing downwind from the rush hour crowd is going to burn out your nose hair. Take that into consideration when you decide to hit the night life as well. You've been warned.
All The Touristy Corny Crap... DO IT!
You are in PARIS! Do not spend your days doing nothing. PREPARE! Get yourself a guide book and go see it! See ALL OF IT! You won't regret it and trust me, seeing these sites in pics aren't nearly as great as seeing them in person. Well, except the Mona Lisa. THAT shit was underwhelming as fuck.
But you still need to see it.
And the Venus De Milo. And Versailles. And Notre Dame.
Seriously. What's the point of going to Paris and missing these?
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| Louvre? Check. |
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| I think I farted in the hall of mirrors. |
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| If you're a black woman in this area after dark, they'll think you're a hooker. Go during the day. |
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| CHURCH! |
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| My fav song on "Parade"...(yes, I listened to it while I looked at it. Prince nerd...hello.) |
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| "They loved to kiss on the steps of Versailles..." |
So get yourself a guidebook and go take some epic shots.
You may have noticed my jacket. Why am there in November? Because...
Late October-Early November Is The Best Time To Go
We walked right into every single attraction in less than ten minutes because all other tourists have gone home. You can skip the "Attraction Pass" if you do it this way, since all the "speed pass" entry it affords you isn't really needed this time of year. However, if you go during the Spring or Summer...that pass is a MUST.
The coldest it got? Maybe 58-60 degrees F. And in that case, you just throw on a scarf and act Parisian. And what's the best way to do that?
Eat On The Street, Hang Out At Cafe's, Stay in a B&B, Use Google Translate and Wear A Scarf
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| Our scarf game... |
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| ...was TIGHT |
By Day 10, we were Parisian. I was ready to give up all my shit and move.
Elsi and I had the Metro DOWN. We'd been everywhere. We'd met new friends. We were speaking semi-decent French. We were regulars in our neighborhood cafe. We were smug. We were fucking awesome. A HUGE part of this was staying in Bed and Breakfasts instead of hotels. Our host Jean-Michel was super friendly, constantly giving us the inside scoop and improving our French and his place? Incredible. Breakfast was light and well..Parisian. The accommodations? Beautiful. The money saved? A lot. Think about it. That's one meal every day that's taken care of. VOILA!
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| Dining Area |
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| Bed... |
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| ...and breakfast |
Lastly...
Everything Is Better In Paris. Deal With It.
They hate Americans. They're all ... "Why do you Americans act so smug when what we have is soooo much better?" And you know what? They're right.
It's hard to explain but Paris just does it better. From food, to transportation, to cafes... it just all...WORKS.
Well...it doesn't all work. Like, the people don't. Everyday looks like a Saturday in Paris. We were there for five days when I was like... don't they have JOBS? But other than that...yeah. It all works.
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| I just asked for coffee...and I get this. |
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| This is not pizza. This is orgasm with cheese on it. |
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See that bartender in the mask? He made me a drink with a sparkler and smiled. Then I fell in love with him.
He did not love me back. Tres Parisian. |
And Then I Came Back The &*$k Home
Sigh. I know why the caged bird sings.
I also know why James Baldwin packed up his shit and bounced.
I came home to... America. Dysfunctional yet awesome America. After the shit at the airport, the white people acting all like... American White People, I had to ask myself... "What's stopping me?"
Why in the hell am I not making plans to move to Paris?
I'm single. I have no kids. I pick up languages easily. I felt ZERO racism in Paris and I love it. I can make a living there easily. Why the hell wouldn't I just... move?
And JUST as I'm thinking this and mentally preparing to DO THIS SHIT... I meet someone else.
And he is awesome.
And that's why I am Nora Ephron's wet dream. Because of how this story ends...(or begins, shall I say?)
Yet that... (cue Parisian accordion...) is another story for another time.
TRAVEL: Check
Hipmunk or
Iceland Air for the best deals. Go during the off season. I actually flew through Iceland to get to Paris, which cost about $200 less than going through Air France (who has been known to go on strike on a whim at least once a year. Usually during the off season.) Stay at a Bed & Breakfasts to save money.
COST: The entire trip, for 10 Days, including Airfare, accommodation and spending dough (keeping in mind that the dollar was in the toilet and the Euro was 2-1), $2,600. Splitting cost with a buddy helped tremendously, but so did the B&B's.
BLACK FACTOR: That's the funny thing about Paris. There's practically no racism when it comes to African Americans HOWEVER...they hate Africans. Heavy. Once they find out you're African-American and you try to speak the language, you're fine. Not that it's right... but that's just the way it is.
WOULD I DO IT AGAIN?:
I had a broken heart when I left. Not only was it fully in tact when I returned, but it was making music.
Would I do Paris? Again...and again...and again...
(Stay tuned for
Part 2: Bonjour/Buon giorno & Guten Tag Switzerland & Milan! (And yes...I spoke all three. Like a fucking boss. OK, except German. I spoke German like an intern.)
