Ok on with the story.
So I get into Paris Charles de Gaulle airport and immediately I start following the signs for the RER B line which was only a short mile or five away. But when I finally made it there lugging two giant suitcases, I bought my ticket and grabbed the next train blue train.
So I get to Le Gare du Nord and I'm supposed to exit on Le Re de Dunkerque only there is no sign indicating which direction that street would be in so I just start walking in good faith that I'm going in the right direction. Sure enough I started seeing signs for it. However, the sign said I was required to now ascend two flights of stairs. Don't worry there was an elevator.
The elevator incidentally was broken--now start to worry. I had to drag two extremely heavy, extremely bulky, extremely large suitcases up two stories to then exit onto Le Rue de Dunkerque.
Problem number two: it was pouring, 35 degrees, and I had no coat.
Yes it is true that when packing for my two month adventure, I only packed for Africa and did not plan anything for Paris. I was out in the freezing rain in nothing more than a light 3/4 length sweater. But I now had motivation to find my hostel so I took a LEFT and headed off in search of Le Vintage.
Two minutes later the street ended. Now streets in Paris are not like streets here. They do not have nice neat intersections with bright green road signs to tell you the name of the street. No. Paris has lovely little plazas with six streets coming together in one spot and the street signs (if you're lucky to find one) are minuscule little things pasted on the side of a building. Needless to say I took the wrong street, doubled back, and repeated the process five more times.
Ten my brain really kicked in and I decided I just needed to follow the larger street for a bit because the name probably changed at the plaza.
Sometimes I really should just not listen to myself.
I walked a solid twenty minutes down said road and no Vintage Hostel was to be seen and by this point I was way past the point of being a little misted by the rain and was somewhere in the vicinity of looking like a drowned cat.
I knew I was way off track because the directions said it was a five minute walk tops from the station to the hostel. So I did the unthinkable--I turned on my cellular data so I could use my Maps. Don't EVER turn on your cellular data while you are oversees without a plan. Long story short I typed in the address took a screen shot and turned my data off. Those few moments ended up costing me $198.40. That's not really a fun conversation to have with your parents.
Any way back to my misery.
I now knew where I needed to go which was twenty five minutes in the opposite direction from where I was headed. So I turned around and I got one block before the unthinkable happened.
Yes, my suitcase broke.
The handle by which it is to be pulled snapped and as I grabbed the handle to pull it along, refusing to be defeated by Paris, the seam started to split.
I was not about to have all of my personal affects strewn along a gutter in Paris so I stopped under the awning of a fruit stand and asked the owner where I could find a taxi.
Parisians will not speak English to you. No way. You have to at least attempt French before they will consider you. So I musters up some sort of sentence about needing to go about half way I into the next district over.
The man was kind enough to attempt to hail a taxi but none were going in my direction or only ran in this district and didn't travel to others. He then told me where I could find a taxis stand that would get me where I needed to go. And I patiently reminded him that I couldn't make it there because my suitcase was broken.
Bless his heart, he put my suitcase on his fruit trolly and wheeled it over to the taxi stand while I pulled my other one and I finally got a taxi. Fifteen minutes and 13 euros later I arrived at my hostel which, was in fact, a five minute walk from the station if you take a RIGHT onto Le Rue de Dunkerqe.
That afternoon, after I took a hot shower and put on warm clothes, I walked to Sacré Coeur and the sun was bright and warm and I was starting to fall in love with Paris despite my adventures getting there.
It's easy now to look back on that morning and just burst into a fit of giggles because really...how does one person have so much bad luck?
As proof that I am not lying about the very misleading directions I will attach poof!
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