On day the second day we traversed the distance lieing between Calais and Paris, by train.
The only significant things to mention about this are that both Ross an Lee read Scott Pilgrims Precious Little Life for the first time, a book we can all heartily recomend.
Buy two copies, give one to a friend.
The other is that Calais train station apparently has a person with a tiny Casio trapped away in the rafters, as bizzare jangly music would come out of nowhere while we sat on the platform.
It sounded like the tone you get at the start of an announcment, but went on for thirty seconds, and had soul and stuff.
But yes, rocked up in gard de nord, and began the mamoth task of finding somewhere to sleep for that night (we had reservations sorted for the Saturday and the sunday).
This involved us being constantly confused by the scale of maps in Paris, and other cartoraphical lies put about by the metro.
So we ended up way further East than we'd intended, and had to walk through the Jardin de something to get back towards the louvre.
Have to say I was pretty unimpressed by the gardens, which seemedd to be more like a sandy carpark, with some dead trees, tramps, and people fencing.
But, still, maybe it's nice in spring, or something.
But, yes, we locate the louvre (lee wets himself at the site of the place), and as we've been walking for about three hundred years, deside to stop for a bit and enjoy the surrounds.
Which are very pretty.
Sutably refreshed by Art, we do that walking thing again, and end up stumbling accross a tiny hotel down a back street ( i personally that my incredable fear of crossing roads for this, always checking down a street thoroughly before crossing).
We dump bags, and head out to the News Cafe, for tasty food and the first desperado of the trip.
Later in the eveing we head out to search for bars, and apparently completly miss whatever bar district there is, an just wonder aimlessly through the red light area, where large men offer us cocain very quickly, and so on.
We settle at a small club/bar place (no longer in the sex district), where possibly the least good danceing I've ever seen is exhibited. Everyone in dancing, the dj, the barstaff, the punters. I felt slightly rude not dancing, but I can deal with that, and so we sat and took the piss out of people loudly in very quick slangly English.
I think we got a taxi home, but frankly the rest of that evening is now a haze.
The only significant things to mention about this are that both Ross an Lee read Scott Pilgrims Precious Little Life for the first time, a book we can all heartily recomend.
Buy two copies, give one to a friend.
The other is that Calais train station apparently has a person with a tiny Casio trapped away in the rafters, as bizzare jangly music would come out of nowhere while we sat on the platform.
It sounded like the tone you get at the start of an announcment, but went on for thirty seconds, and had soul and stuff.
But yes, rocked up in gard de nord, and began the mamoth task of finding somewhere to sleep for that night (we had reservations sorted for the Saturday and the sunday).
This involved us being constantly confused by the scale of maps in Paris, and other cartoraphical lies put about by the metro.
So we ended up way further East than we'd intended, and had to walk through the Jardin de something to get back towards the louvre.
Have to say I was pretty unimpressed by the gardens, which seemedd to be more like a sandy carpark, with some dead trees, tramps, and people fencing.
But, still, maybe it's nice in spring, or something.
But, yes, we locate the louvre (lee wets himself at the site of the place), and as we've been walking for about three hundred years, deside to stop for a bit and enjoy the surrounds.
Which are very pretty.
Sutably refreshed by Art, we do that walking thing again, and end up stumbling accross a tiny hotel down a back street ( i personally that my incredable fear of crossing roads for this, always checking down a street thoroughly before crossing).
We dump bags, and head out to the News Cafe, for tasty food and the first desperado of the trip.
Later in the eveing we head out to search for bars, and apparently completly miss whatever bar district there is, an just wonder aimlessly through the red light area, where large men offer us cocain very quickly, and so on.
We settle at a small club/bar place (no longer in the sex district), where possibly the least good danceing I've ever seen is exhibited. Everyone in dancing, the dj, the barstaff, the punters. I felt slightly rude not dancing, but I can deal with that, and so we sat and took the piss out of people loudly in very quick slangly English.
I think we got a taxi home, but frankly the rest of that evening is now a haze.
koyaanis:
hello