It was another three hours to Paris and it was getting dark so I didn't see a lot.
Once in Paris, we arrived at Porte Maillot, which looks like a convention centre/entertainment district. It was dark and a little wet, though well lit. Ultimately, we were in a parking lot - where the bus depot was.
I don't trust my cereal box French skills enough to get on the Métro to get to my hotel. Instead, I opted to take a cab. Now, I am me. I will read everything there is to read about a place before going there. I am a single woman travelling alone and this can create enough problems without adding in a language barrier. I had read about the cab drivers who would take you for a ride, monetarily, and how to avoid them. They usually stood in groups outside of black cars (legitimate taxis, some of the time) and called out to people. I spotted one of these groups, turned my back to them and hoped the North American Cab Rules (first car in the line gets the fare) still applied. Someone else on my coach ended up in the black car and paid three times as much as I did to get on a hotel on the same street.
I got into a Renault with a nice man who spoke better English than I did French. He took me on a small tour of the city, including a drive by the Eiffel Tower - though technically it was on the way to my hotel.
Paris hotel rooms are not large.
A double bed in Paris is two singles pushed together. I didn't care because it was inexpensive and indoors. This, by the way, is pretty much the entire hotel room. There is a bathroom with a stand up shower, a toilet and a sink. If you're claustrophobic, I wouldn't close that door. There is a flat screen TV on the wall behind me (there is enough room to open up the door) and a desk that my hip is brushing against. There is no elevator, the stairways are narrow and I am on the fourth floor. The stairs have a really neat glass inlay I meant to take a picture of but never got around to.
This is the view of the courtyard from my window.
The view straight out from the window.
The streets are narrow and cobble stoned. It is now dark out so I don't venture very far - as adventurous as I am, I would prefer to speak the language if I'm going to get lost in a city after dark. I went online and found an Italian restaurant on the same street as my hotel - two doors down!
This was one of the best meals I have ever eaten in my life.
Handmade bruschetta. I wanted to eat so much more of this.
There isn't a single artificial thing about this lasagna and it shows in the taste.
Seriously, this creme brulee is the best thing I have ever put in my mouth.
The staff at this restaurant were second to none. My waitress wasn't just bilingual, she was trilingual. She spoke Italian, French and English. I explained that I was from Canada and apologised for being monolingual. I asked her about tipping and she said it wasn't something that was normally done and it would make me look like an American - gauche and rude. I smiled, thanked her profusely and went back to the hotel.
Next: I explore Paris!
