As I am now job hunting, step one is getting my cover letter, references and resume in tip-top shape. The last job I had was a big-girl job, and I remember how pleased I was with the final version of my resume.
Oh, to be young and blindingly naive again.
Part of why I now know everything that is wrong with my resume is because I helped with several rounds of hiring at my last job. With all the atrocious resumes, cover letters, email correspondence leading up to interviews and the interviews themselves, I've got an arsenal of hire-me-NOW weaponry at my disposal.
And it's nice to know that we were much more stringent than most employers were.
Do you know how hard it is to find someone who has both a particular skill set and the ability to spell their own name correctly? Apparently the two are mutually exclusive.
It also helps that during my tenure at Resilience, I took the 12-week Word course through BCIT, as part of my technical writing program. That course was worth its weight in gold. If it had measurable weight. Just say it's worth its textbook's weight in gold.
Highlights from my 2007 resume
-Under Activities & Interests I put "new experiences." What a loser.
-There are upwards of one hundred different styles in the Styles & Formatting sidebar. ONE HUNDRED. Actually, in my continuing quest for journalistic integrity, and in my other quest to stop over-exaggerating everything all the time, I'm actually going to count.
Ok, so I was sort of right and sort of wrong. There are eighty-five different styles, but that is not including the standard ones that are already included with Word. It's well over a hundred if you include those.
Eighty-five.
Do you know how many is a good number to aim for?
Maybe ten or twelve.
So basically what this says is, "I'm telling you in words that I'm proficient with Word, but I'm proving this to be an outrageous lie as soon as you actually look at how I whipped this together. I'm also making it painfully obvious that my good friend Google helped me find a template on some website and that's what I based my resume off of."
Think of it this way: the words are the skin, and the styles are the skeleton.
And your employer has an x-ray machine.
You better hope your bones are in order.*
-I included an Objective.
Now I'm always torn on this one. I don't like the Objective section per se, but I also don't like jumping right into Skills or some other section. I feel like there needs to be some sort of "Hi I'm Sam and I want to work for you!" before I start telling you all the reasons I'm awesome. And I know that's what the cover letter is for, but you can't always assume that a potential employer is going to look at your cover letter first. We'll see what I come up with as I go.
Regardless, Objective is wrong wrong wrong.
-I underlined stuff. In blue. Wtf is wrong with me?
So it's clear I have some work ahead of me. And sadly, the more I read through this, the less I'd want to hire me. I thought I'd have some substance to work from, but apparently not.
*This, of course, is primarily for any position that includes writing. If you're a mechanic applying at Joe's Car Repair, they won't care if you used styles. They might not even care if you use Notepad.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
AirCare's Sole Purpose is to Remind Poor People That They're Poor
Alternate blog post titles:
Volkswagens and AirCare: enemies to the death.
"Did it pass AirCare?" "It's a Volkswagen. Of course not."
AirCare: The Bane of My Existence
First World Problems
I'm probably not going to elicit much sympathy from this, as I could have had a new(er) car instead of the one I already have. But because I made the "fun!" (aka irresponsible!) choice to quit my job and then spend my big pile of money gallivanting around some continents for a while, I came home to my high-mileage 1997 Golf.
I loved this car when I got itfive years ago. After driving an awesomely charismatic but supremely unsafe and unreliable yellow '72 Superbeetle for three years, upgrading to a car that was produced when I was already alive was amazing.
I still love you, Mabel. You death trap on wheels you.
And I love things about this car. Like how a tank of gas that will get me 550km costs less than $40. Or how... it has a manual transmission! And... doors. And wheels... And it gets me from point A to point B relatively unscathed... Ok, so there isn't much that's great about this car. But it's (usually) cheap to run, and I don't have any sort of monthly car payment.
Car payments are why I don't have a newer, nicer car.
Do you know how much a monthly car payment for a new Civic is? $300
And the car payment for the sole car that might actually motivate me into taking on a monthly car payment, aka a Dodge Challenger?
At least $600.
(That was the sound of my bank account getting raped.)
So I still have my 13-year-old, junky-but-mostly-reliable, practically-free-to-drive Golf. I should probably throw some money at it, like to paint the hood or fix the cracked-to-shit windshield, the latter of which would not hold up in a vehicle inspection. But as it's high mileage and never been rebuilt, it would probably be smarter just to sell it before its maintenance bills are more than the car's value.
I cancelled its insurance pre-departure and put storage insurance on it. And I was actually excited to reinsure it, as three years has now elapsed since my car accident and ICBC's accident forgiveness would have kicked in, making my already practically free to drive car even freer. Whoa that's actually a word? Awesome! Freer freer freer.
I head to the local Autoplan to reinsure my car, hand her all my paper work, get my blank cheque ready (as I had forgotten it on the first attempt), and smugly wait to hear just how cheap my monthly insurance payment is going to be.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Your AirCare's expired."
If hopes and dreams dying was audible, that's the sound.
She could have also said, "Cry. Then please go to your nearest mechanic and pay $300."
AirCare is a tax on the poor.
New vehicles are exempt from AirCare for their first seven years of life. After that they only need to be checked every two years, and they usually pass with flying colours.
AirCare was implemented in 1992. Does this mean that vehicles built prior to 1992 are exempt? No. Cars built in 1992 or previous need to be checked every year.
AirCare should be much the same as how the seatbelt law works: if your car was built without seatbelts before the seatbelts law came into effect, you don't need to install seatbelts in your car.
And while I realize that this still wouldn't make my 1997 Golf exempt from AirCare, it would make me a little less bitter about all the hell they caused me with my 1972 Bug. But AirCare is government, which means it's not much more than a thinly-veiled cash grab, and despite similar programs being nixed throughout the states they had been implemented in because it's becoming increasingly pointless, AirCare still exists because the BC government likes to tax the poor.
I don't drive a '97 Golf because I think it's fun to not have things like airbags and air conditioning and ABS brakes and power windows. I drive it because I can't afford anything else right now. Because I spent all my money on silk and silver in India. Pity me.
You know what else I can't afford? The mechanic bill, to fix my off-the-chart nitrogen oxide rating. Because I quit my job before I went on said silver and silk shopping spree. Cue more pity.
Do you think they looked at my supremely-below-average carbon monoxide reading and gave me a break? Or averaged the three readings? Or though, ehhh two out of three ain't bad, off you go. Nope. Not even a high five.
Carbon monoxide? WILL KILL YOU.
Nitrogen oxide? Makes your car go fast! Wheeeee!
If you are in the 1992 or older category, where regulations say you need to go through AirCare every year, they charge you $23 for the exam.
If you are in the 1993 and newer category, where you only need to go through AirCare every two years, the testing fee is $47.
Whoa, what's that?
Both exams are exactly the same. But if we're only going to see you every two years, we're going to charge you double! That's the price you pay for being able to afford a new car that was built to meet modern emissions standards!
My car is pretty economical in the grand scheme of things. It even rated as having better than average gas consumption for its class in the AirCare test. If I were to take that $40 tank of gas and light it on fire, it would still be more Earth-friendly than a new V8 diesel that spews out a thick plume of black smoke every time you hammer on the pedal.
Maybe this is Mother Nature's vengeance for how I drove Richie's truck. In that case, I'm sorry MN. Love you!
But because that brand new $78,000 F350 V8 meets the emissions standards for its class, it doesn't even need to go on its first date with AirCare until 2016. And that first date won't even be awkward and it'll pass with flying colours and it'll do the stride of pride out of the AirCare lineup like no tomorrow.
So let's break it down.
Typical redneck: $15,600 for truck/year* + $6,000 for diesel/year** = $21,600 annual vehicle expenses
*($78,000 / 5 year payment plan)
**(20,000km / 400km per tank x $120 per fill)
Me: $900 for car/year*** + $1455 for gas/year**** = $2,355 annual vehicle expenses
***($4,500 / 5 years of ownership)
****(20,000 / 550km per tank x $40 per fill)
I'm not even factoring in insurance, which is exponentially more for a vehicle that expensive, compared to what it costs me for mine.
One of us can afford expensive car repairs, and the other cannot.
One of us is hands-down spewing more pollutants into the air than is necessary, and the other is not.
But I'm the one being penalized for emissions and on my way to fork out a few hundred dollars in repairs.
AirCare is a tax on the poor.
Volkswagens and AirCare: enemies to the death.
"Did it pass AirCare?" "It's a Volkswagen. Of course not."
AirCare: The Bane of My Existence
First World Problems
I'm probably not going to elicit much sympathy from this, as I could have had a new(er) car instead of the one I already have. But because I made the "fun!" (aka irresponsible!) choice to quit my job and then spend my big pile of money gallivanting around some continents for a while, I came home to my high-mileage 1997 Golf.
I loved this car when I got it
I still love you, Mabel. You death trap on wheels you.
And I love things about this car. Like how a tank of gas that will get me 550km costs less than $40. Or how... it has a manual transmission! And... doors. And wheels... And it gets me from point A to point B relatively unscathed... Ok, so there isn't much that's great about this car. But it's (usually) cheap to run, and I don't have any sort of monthly car payment.
Car payments are why I don't have a newer, nicer car.
Do you know how much a monthly car payment for a new Civic is? $300
And the car payment for the sole car that might actually motivate me into taking on a monthly car payment, aka a Dodge Challenger?
At least $600.
(That was the sound of my bank account getting raped.)
So I still have my 13-year-old, junky-but-mostly-reliable, practically-free-to-drive Golf. I should probably throw some money at it, like to paint the hood or fix the cracked-to-shit windshield, the latter of which would not hold up in a vehicle inspection. But as it's high mileage and never been rebuilt, it would probably be smarter just to sell it before its maintenance bills are more than the car's value.
I cancelled its insurance pre-departure and put storage insurance on it. And I was actually excited to reinsure it, as three years has now elapsed since my car accident and ICBC's accident forgiveness would have kicked in, making my already practically free to drive car even freer. Whoa that's actually a word? Awesome! Freer freer freer.
I head to the local Autoplan to reinsure my car, hand her all my paper work, get my blank cheque ready (as I had forgotten it on the first attempt), and smugly wait to hear just how cheap my monthly insurance payment is going to be.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Your AirCare's expired."
If hopes and dreams dying was audible, that's the sound.
She could have also said, "Cry. Then please go to your nearest mechanic and pay $300."
AirCare is a tax on the poor.
New vehicles are exempt from AirCare for their first seven years of life. After that they only need to be checked every two years, and they usually pass with flying colours.
AirCare was implemented in 1992. Does this mean that vehicles built prior to 1992 are exempt? No. Cars built in 1992 or previous need to be checked every year.
AirCare should be much the same as how the seatbelt law works: if your car was built without seatbelts before the seatbelts law came into effect, you don't need to install seatbelts in your car.
And while I realize that this still wouldn't make my 1997 Golf exempt from AirCare, it would make me a little less bitter about all the hell they caused me with my 1972 Bug. But AirCare is government, which means it's not much more than a thinly-veiled cash grab, and despite similar programs being nixed throughout the states they had been implemented in because it's becoming increasingly pointless, AirCare still exists because the BC government likes to tax the poor.
I don't drive a '97 Golf because I think it's fun to not have things like airbags and air conditioning and ABS brakes and power windows. I drive it because I can't afford anything else right now. Because I spent all my money on silk and silver in India. Pity me.
You know what else I can't afford? The mechanic bill, to fix my off-the-chart nitrogen oxide rating. Because I quit my job before I went on said silver and silk shopping spree. Cue more pity.
Do you think they looked at my supremely-below-average carbon monoxide reading and gave me a break? Or averaged the three readings? Or though, ehhh two out of three ain't bad, off you go. Nope. Not even a high five.
Carbon monoxide? WILL KILL YOU.
Nitrogen oxide? Makes your car go fast! Wheeeee!
If you are in the 1992 or older category, where regulations say you need to go through AirCare every year, they charge you $23 for the exam.
If you are in the 1993 and newer category, where you only need to go through AirCare every two years, the testing fee is $47.
Whoa, what's that?
Both exams are exactly the same. But if we're only going to see you every two years, we're going to charge you double! That's the price you pay for being able to afford a new car that was built to meet modern emissions standards!
My car is pretty economical in the grand scheme of things. It even rated as having better than average gas consumption for its class in the AirCare test. If I were to take that $40 tank of gas and light it on fire, it would still be more Earth-friendly than a new V8 diesel that spews out a thick plume of black smoke every time you hammer on the pedal.
Maybe this is Mother Nature's vengeance for how I drove Richie's truck. In that case, I'm sorry MN. Love you!
But because that brand new $78,000 F350 V8 meets the emissions standards for its class, it doesn't even need to go on its first date with AirCare until 2016. And that first date won't even be awkward and it'll pass with flying colours and it'll do the stride of pride out of the AirCare lineup like no tomorrow.
So let's break it down.
Typical redneck: $15,600 for truck/year* + $6,000 for diesel/year** = $21,600 annual vehicle expenses
*($78,000 / 5 year payment plan)
**(20,000km / 400km per tank x $120 per fill)
Me: $900 for car/year*** + $1455 for gas/year**** = $2,355 annual vehicle expenses
***($4,500 / 5 years of ownership)
****(20,000 / 550km per tank x $40 per fill)
I'm not even factoring in insurance, which is exponentially more for a vehicle that expensive, compared to what it costs me for mine.
One of us can afford expensive car repairs, and the other cannot.
One of us is hands-down spewing more pollutants into the air than is necessary, and the other is not.
But I'm the one being penalized for emissions and on my way to fork out a few hundred dollars in repairs.
AirCare is a tax on the poor.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Home, sweeeeeet beautiful home!
After being away for nearly three months, home brings many realizations with it.
1. I own a shit-tonne of stuff.
The amount of stuff that I have crammed into my >10’x14’ room is borderline unbelievable. Couple that with the basement crawlspace, one section of which is devoted entirely to housing all the things I’ve accumulated over the last handful of years in anticipation of moving out.
Much of the things are home things, like decorative stuff, art, and textiles. In this way, I’m totally my mother’s daughter, and a textbook Cancer.
I’m not, however, my mother’s daughter in that there is absolutely no cohesion to any of the things I own. At all.
If something meets any one of the following criteria, I will buy it:
-if it’s a bright colour
-if it’s many bright colours
-if it’s black, white or grey
-if it’s silver
-if it’s gold
-if it’s shiny or sparkly
-if it’s glass
-if it's metal
-if it's wood
-if it's old
-if it’s an interesting conversation piece
-if it would look nice on a bookshelf
-if it’s a miniature version of something
-if it’s an oversized version of something
-if it would be fun to take to a party
-if it’s BC Lions merchandise
This theme continued while travelling, and of the above list only one criterion did not come into play while abroad, which is obviously the Lions criterion.
So what did I do?
I bought Olympiacos stuff instead.
So now I’m tasked with finding homes or storage for all the new things I’ve brought home. The biggest undertaking will be for the smallest items, as I bought a royal inheritance worth of jewelry and I have no idea where it’s all going to live. But hey, I’m unemployed! I have time for stuff like this now.
When I finally do move out, I’m going to have go the museum route: paint the walls stark white, throw everything in, and pretend that I meant for everything to be completely disconnected from everything else. It's art.
2. I have a shit-tonne of clothes.
And oh boy, am I excited for them! After three months of one pair of jeans, one cardigan, one sweater and a rotation of a half dozen t-shirts and three scarves, I’m ready to be a real girl again. Wearing the same dozen pairs of underwear for 80 days is a travesty. And when you’re gallivanting around the planet, seeing how much amazing stuff there is out there, your boring clothes make you feel extra boring. I don’t like feeling boring.
3. I am not very good at planning.
I had intended for all my laundry to be washed, folded and put away before my departure. As I quickly ran out of time before I left, things like normal adult responsibilities got shoved aside.
But seeing as how I was employed then, and I am unemployed now, it’s not like I don’t have the time to do it all now! So I guess I am good at planning.
4. Dogs are jerks.
I'm gone for nearly three months (4.8 dog years to be exact), and Jack is more excited to see my dad than me.
Edit: 80 days is not 4.8 dog years, it's 1.53. How I screwed that up so badly is beyond me. But still, more than a year? And all he did was sniff my shoe.
5. Bacon is no more delicious after not eating it for three months.
Because bacon was already at maximum delicious, that's why.
6. Your own bed is so amazingly luxuriously comfy after a three month absence.
Seriously. It was heaven.
1. I own a shit-tonne of stuff.
The amount of stuff that I have crammed into my >10’x14’ room is borderline unbelievable. Couple that with the basement crawlspace, one section of which is devoted entirely to housing all the things I’ve accumulated over the last handful of years in anticipation of moving out.
Much of the things are home things, like decorative stuff, art, and textiles. In this way, I’m totally my mother’s daughter, and a textbook Cancer.
I’m not, however, my mother’s daughter in that there is absolutely no cohesion to any of the things I own. At all.
If something meets any one of the following criteria, I will buy it:
-if it’s a bright colour
-if it’s many bright colours
-if it’s black, white or grey
-if it’s silver
-if it’s gold
-if it’s shiny or sparkly
-if it’s glass
-if it's metal
-if it's wood
-if it's old
-if it’s an interesting conversation piece
-if it would look nice on a bookshelf
-if it’s a miniature version of something
-if it’s an oversized version of something
-if it would be fun to take to a party
-if it’s BC Lions merchandise
This theme continued while travelling, and of the above list only one criterion did not come into play while abroad, which is obviously the Lions criterion.
So what did I do?
I bought Olympiacos stuff instead.
So now I’m tasked with finding homes or storage for all the new things I’ve brought home. The biggest undertaking will be for the smallest items, as I bought a royal inheritance worth of jewelry and I have no idea where it’s all going to live. But hey, I’m unemployed! I have time for stuff like this now.
When I finally do move out, I’m going to have go the museum route: paint the walls stark white, throw everything in, and pretend that I meant for everything to be completely disconnected from everything else. It's art.
2. I have a shit-tonne of clothes.
And oh boy, am I excited for them! After three months of one pair of jeans, one cardigan, one sweater and a rotation of a half dozen t-shirts and three scarves, I’m ready to be a real girl again. Wearing the same dozen pairs of underwear for 80 days is a travesty. And when you’re gallivanting around the planet, seeing how much amazing stuff there is out there, your boring clothes make you feel extra boring. I don’t like feeling boring.
3. I am not very good at planning.
I had intended for all my laundry to be washed, folded and put away before my departure. As I quickly ran out of time before I left, things like normal adult responsibilities got shoved aside.
But seeing as how I was employed then, and I am unemployed now, it’s not like I don’t have the time to do it all now! So I guess I am good at planning.
4. Dogs are jerks.
I'm gone for nearly three months (4.8 dog years to be exact), and Jack is more excited to see my dad than me.
Edit: 80 days is not 4.8 dog years, it's 1.53. How I screwed that up so badly is beyond me. But still, more than a year? And all he did was sniff my shoe.
5. Bacon is no more delicious after not eating it for three months.
Because bacon was already at maximum delicious, that's why.
6. Your own bed is so amazingly luxuriously comfy after a three month absence.
Seriously. It was heaven.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Day 80 of 80 – the end is here!
I did it! I’m less than 45 minutes from touchdown in Vancouver and I’m so many emotions right now. I’m beyond excited to see my dad who’s picking me up, I’m anxious to get through baggage collection and customs because they never go speedily enough, and I’m so ready to be home.
What home will bring is a little uncertain, so I’m approaching that with a touch of trepidation. I’m gearing up for what is hopefully a very temporary stint in unemployment and being incomeless, and as soon as new work is found my next up task is to (finally) move out of mom and dad’s. Big changes ahead!
The biggest thing this journey has taught me is that in the grand scheme of life, I’ve won the fucking lottery. To be born Canadian, to speak English, to be upper middle class with a million opportunities at my feet, to be able to quit my job to go travel with parents who are beyond supportive, to have an education, to be what we take for granted as completely average in North America is the 99th percentile to the rest of the planet.
And I hope that when I’m home, that is the lesson that stays with me most. I hope I’m as kind to people as possible, to reflect the kindness that’s been displayed to me for the past 80 days. I hope that I complain less, because I’ve seen what real poverty looks like, what real problems are. I hope that I continue to be able to travel, and that I capitalize on those opportunities. I definitely didn’t earn this trip – it fell in my lap like everything else I’ve been given, like every other trip I’ve been on – but I am still so grateful. The next trip will be one that I scrimp and save for, and earn the hard way.
This planet is so amazing. How incredible is it that we can hurl ourselves through the air in a metal tube going 900km an hour and end up on the other side of the world in less than half a day. We owe the Wright brothers big time.
Time to prep for landing, which means this is cut short. Probably a good thing, because I’m getting teary on a plane. Never a good thing.
I wish I could tell Dan about my trip. He’d be so stoked.
What home will bring is a little uncertain, so I’m approaching that with a touch of trepidation. I’m gearing up for what is hopefully a very temporary stint in unemployment and being incomeless, and as soon as new work is found my next up task is to (finally) move out of mom and dad’s. Big changes ahead!
The biggest thing this journey has taught me is that in the grand scheme of life, I’ve won the fucking lottery. To be born Canadian, to speak English, to be upper middle class with a million opportunities at my feet, to be able to quit my job to go travel with parents who are beyond supportive, to have an education, to be what we take for granted as completely average in North America is the 99th percentile to the rest of the planet.
And I hope that when I’m home, that is the lesson that stays with me most. I hope I’m as kind to people as possible, to reflect the kindness that’s been displayed to me for the past 80 days. I hope that I complain less, because I’ve seen what real poverty looks like, what real problems are. I hope that I continue to be able to travel, and that I capitalize on those opportunities. I definitely didn’t earn this trip – it fell in my lap like everything else I’ve been given, like every other trip I’ve been on – but I am still so grateful. The next trip will be one that I scrimp and save for, and earn the hard way.
This planet is so amazing. How incredible is it that we can hurl ourselves through the air in a metal tube going 900km an hour and end up on the other side of the world in less than half a day. We owe the Wright brothers big time.
Time to prep for landing, which means this is cut short. Probably a good thing, because I’m getting teary on a plane. Never a good thing.
I wish I could tell Dan about my trip. He’d be so stoked.
100 things I learned on my trip
1. Smiling will get you everywhere.
2. I am worth 4,000,000 camels, 100 pashminas and a shop, or two blocks of the pyramids.
3. India is insane.
4. The Eiffel Tower really is all it's cracked up to be.
5. A good book means you never eat dinner alone.
6. Expect to pay as much for tea in Europe as you would for a sandwich in Canada.
7. The best samosas in the world are halfway between Varanasi and the Nepal border, on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, and cost Rs 2 (approximately 5¢ CDN).
8. The Greek islands are best visited in the summer.
9. The Champs-Elysees is everything that's wrong with humanity.
10. Water purifcation tablets, drops and your own water bottle are completely unnecessary.
11. Going by the meter in a taxi in India means the driver will circle the city repeatedly to make more money.
12. It is fiscally irresponsible not to attend happy hour.
13. Canadians go travelling for a gap year, or take time off work. Americans study abroad for a semester.
14. Europe treats the Euro exactly like the dollar. $3.75 for a hot chocolate at home, €3.75 for a hot chocolate in Amsterdam.
15. France needs a lesson or two in silver quality and pricing from Egypt and India.
16. Dutch is the most hilariously ridiculous language, both on paper and when spoken.
17. Top Deck is a terrible tour company.
18. Gap Adventures is an awesome tour company.
19. India: just as stinky as you'd expect.
20. Never backpack without a sleeping bag.
21. The French love English accents.
22. Blonde hair equals celebrity status in India.
23. Athens' stray dogs are collectively cared for by everyone, and even get regular vet checkups.
24. 9/10 Americans don't deserve their reputation as rude, arrogant, ignorant travellers. But that 1/10, they couldn't deserve it more.
25. 9/10 Canadians do deserve our reputation as kind, grateful, polite travellers. The 1/10 should be exiled to America.
26. Missing your best friend's wedding sucks. It sucks really, really bad.
27. Greece is hoarding the world's supply of tall, dark and handsome.
28. Watching a cremation on the banks of the Ganges isn't creepy at all. In fact, it's beautiful.
29. The French call the Netherlands "Pays-Bas."
30. In the Cairo airport, smiling nicely means they'll let you board a plane with contraband.
31. When presented with a squatter toilet and a western toilet, the squatter will be less disgusting.
32. Every single dog, no matter its breed, colour, size or disposition, reminds me of Jack and how much I miss him.
33. It's not if you'll get sick, it's when, and for how long, and how badly.
34. Scarves make excellent packing material. That's how I justify purchasing more than a dozen.
35. In India, you can spend as much time haggling the price as the actual taxi ride takes.
36. The pyramids really are all they're cracked up to be.
37. Check your tickets. You may have already paid for a ferry ticket when you bought your bus ticket, and don't need to buy another.
38. It is easier to read Greek than to speak it.
39. If you're confused, and someone else also looks confused, they speak English.
40. Apparently "Je ne parle Francais" is code for "I speak French."
41. Losing your camera makes an expensive night out drastically more expensive.
42. Cameras are cheaper at home than abroad. By about $250.
43. The security at the Kathmandu airport is both the most stringent and the most lax on the planet.
44. In some countries, staring isn't considered rude. That doesn't make it any less creepy though.
45. No matter how little English someone speaks, they'll still know how to ask "Boyfriend? Husband?"
46. A leader can make or break a tour.
47. Elephants love love love oranges and bananas.
48. The French actually dress like their stereotype: navy and white stripes and berets abound.
49. Greeks don't understand lineups.
50. A load of laundry costs more than dinner in a nice restaurant.
51. The Mona Lisa is way smaller than you'd expect it to be.
52. Paris' free wifi doesn't work for non-locals.
53. A $300 netbook more than pays for itself in internet café savings.
54. That same netbook proves priceless when it houses a backup of all your photos and you've lost your camera.
55. The Acropolis really is all it's cracked up to be.
56. Haggling something down to one-sixth of its original price isn't unheard of.
57. Canada has the best tasting vegetables.
58. Athens has more history than they know what to do with. Case in point: H&M has a glass floor so you can see the ruins below.
59. The air pollution in New Delhi is equivalent to smoking 20 cigarettes a day.
60. Starbucks tastes exactly the same everywhere.
61. The Euromullet: not just for dudes anymore.
62. A $10 tube of mascara at home is €15 in France.
63. If North America is a year behind European fashion, 2011 will be the year of the really ugly jean.
64. Flea markets at home: great deals abound. Flea markets in Paris: €575 for two chairs, €190 for a non-precious metal necklace, €80 for an ad from an old magazine.
65. The Red Light District in Amsterdam isn't as seedy, dirty, disgusting, dangerous or immoral as some say. In fact, it's none of those things. It's just business.
66. In the Catacombes, being nice to the security guard means he'll take pictures of you with flash.
67. Ferries in Greece are on time about a third of the time.
68. Bollywood films are fantastic.
69. Getting sprayed by an elephant's trunk is the coolest waterfight ever.
70. Six days worth of clean clothes can easily last you two weeks.
71. India is the only country whose airports have reasonable prices for food.
72. Accordions will drown out your headphones, no matter how loud you turn up your music. So will clarinets.
73. 50ml of astringent will last you exactly 80 days!
74. The Taj Mahal really is all it's cracked up to be.
75. Cows causing traffic jams in India is not a myth.
76. Paris has a miniature version of the Statue of Liberty.
77. People are entirely too generous to me.
78. NOFX didn't write Aux Champs-Elysees.
79. Buses in India have air conditioners, but no heaters.
80. Egyptians are crazy for blue eyes.
81. YVR is the nicest airport.
82. A seven hour bus ride is half the price of a three hour train ride.
83. I am incapable of travelling without a purse, and should never again attempt such a feat.
84. Outside of North America, I am taller than many men. In India, I am taller than most men.
85. It is possible to mispronounce "Sam."
86. Being in Greece while your parents are in Chile after a massive earthquake is the lonliest feeling in the world.
87. Woolly mammoth skeletons are just as cool as dinosaur skeletons. Possibly moreso.
88. The Pink Palace is not all it's cracked up to be.
89. Daylight savings time does not happen on the same day in every country.
90. Many of the oil paintings available in touristy areas are actually made in China.
91. Rhinos snort with displeasure when you wake them up.
92. Dining in restaurants for every meal sounds glamorous until you try it. Eating out loses its appeal when it's a necessity, not a luxury.
93. The best tasting meals are the ones put together out of €20 worth of groceries. Saving money is delicious.
94. Lonely Planet books are worth their weight in gold.
95. Paris is home to both the best and worst French fries on the planet.
96. I am incapable of not buying additional luggage to cart around my souvenirs.
97. People really are generally good, and really want to help you.
98. The more you travel, the more you realize you haven't seen even a shred of what there is to see.
99. The world is unbelievably amazing.
100. There really is no place like home.
2. I am worth 4,000,000 camels, 100 pashminas and a shop, or two blocks of the pyramids.
3. India is insane.
4. The Eiffel Tower really is all it's cracked up to be.
5. A good book means you never eat dinner alone.
6. Expect to pay as much for tea in Europe as you would for a sandwich in Canada.
7. The best samosas in the world are halfway between Varanasi and the Nepal border, on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, and cost Rs 2 (approximately 5¢ CDN).
8. The Greek islands are best visited in the summer.
9. The Champs-Elysees is everything that's wrong with humanity.
10. Water purifcation tablets, drops and your own water bottle are completely unnecessary.
11. Going by the meter in a taxi in India means the driver will circle the city repeatedly to make more money.
12. It is fiscally irresponsible not to attend happy hour.
13. Canadians go travelling for a gap year, or take time off work. Americans study abroad for a semester.
14. Europe treats the Euro exactly like the dollar. $3.75 for a hot chocolate at home, €3.75 for a hot chocolate in Amsterdam.
15. France needs a lesson or two in silver quality and pricing from Egypt and India.
16. Dutch is the most hilariously ridiculous language, both on paper and when spoken.
17. Top Deck is a terrible tour company.
18. Gap Adventures is an awesome tour company.
19. India: just as stinky as you'd expect.
20. Never backpack without a sleeping bag.
21. The French love English accents.
22. Blonde hair equals celebrity status in India.
23. Athens' stray dogs are collectively cared for by everyone, and even get regular vet checkups.
24. 9/10 Americans don't deserve their reputation as rude, arrogant, ignorant travellers. But that 1/10, they couldn't deserve it more.
25. 9/10 Canadians do deserve our reputation as kind, grateful, polite travellers. The 1/10 should be exiled to America.
26. Missing your best friend's wedding sucks. It sucks really, really bad.
27. Greece is hoarding the world's supply of tall, dark and handsome.
28. Watching a cremation on the banks of the Ganges isn't creepy at all. In fact, it's beautiful.
29. The French call the Netherlands "Pays-Bas."
30. In the Cairo airport, smiling nicely means they'll let you board a plane with contraband.
31. When presented with a squatter toilet and a western toilet, the squatter will be less disgusting.
32. Every single dog, no matter its breed, colour, size or disposition, reminds me of Jack and how much I miss him.
33. It's not if you'll get sick, it's when, and for how long, and how badly.
34. Scarves make excellent packing material. That's how I justify purchasing more than a dozen.
35. In India, you can spend as much time haggling the price as the actual taxi ride takes.
36. The pyramids really are all they're cracked up to be.
37. Check your tickets. You may have already paid for a ferry ticket when you bought your bus ticket, and don't need to buy another.
38. It is easier to read Greek than to speak it.
39. If you're confused, and someone else also looks confused, they speak English.
40. Apparently "Je ne parle Francais" is code for "I speak French."
41. Losing your camera makes an expensive night out drastically more expensive.
42. Cameras are cheaper at home than abroad. By about $250.
43. The security at the Kathmandu airport is both the most stringent and the most lax on the planet.
44. In some countries, staring isn't considered rude. That doesn't make it any less creepy though.
45. No matter how little English someone speaks, they'll still know how to ask "Boyfriend? Husband?"
46. A leader can make or break a tour.
47. Elephants love love love oranges and bananas.
48. The French actually dress like their stereotype: navy and white stripes and berets abound.
49. Greeks don't understand lineups.
50. A load of laundry costs more than dinner in a nice restaurant.
51. The Mona Lisa is way smaller than you'd expect it to be.
52. Paris' free wifi doesn't work for non-locals.
53. A $300 netbook more than pays for itself in internet café savings.
54. That same netbook proves priceless when it houses a backup of all your photos and you've lost your camera.
55. The Acropolis really is all it's cracked up to be.
56. Haggling something down to one-sixth of its original price isn't unheard of.
57. Canada has the best tasting vegetables.
58. Athens has more history than they know what to do with. Case in point: H&M has a glass floor so you can see the ruins below.
59. The air pollution in New Delhi is equivalent to smoking 20 cigarettes a day.
60. Starbucks tastes exactly the same everywhere.
61. The Euromullet: not just for dudes anymore.
62. A $10 tube of mascara at home is €15 in France.
63. If North America is a year behind European fashion, 2011 will be the year of the really ugly jean.
64. Flea markets at home: great deals abound. Flea markets in Paris: €575 for two chairs, €190 for a non-precious metal necklace, €80 for an ad from an old magazine.
65. The Red Light District in Amsterdam isn't as seedy, dirty, disgusting, dangerous or immoral as some say. In fact, it's none of those things. It's just business.
66. In the Catacombes, being nice to the security guard means he'll take pictures of you with flash.
67. Ferries in Greece are on time about a third of the time.
68. Bollywood films are fantastic.
69. Getting sprayed by an elephant's trunk is the coolest waterfight ever.
70. Six days worth of clean clothes can easily last you two weeks.
71. India is the only country whose airports have reasonable prices for food.
72. Accordions will drown out your headphones, no matter how loud you turn up your music. So will clarinets.
73. 50ml of astringent will last you exactly 80 days!
74. The Taj Mahal really is all it's cracked up to be.
75. Cows causing traffic jams in India is not a myth.
76. Paris has a miniature version of the Statue of Liberty.
77. People are entirely too generous to me.
78. NOFX didn't write Aux Champs-Elysees.
79. Buses in India have air conditioners, but no heaters.
80. Egyptians are crazy for blue eyes.
81. YVR is the nicest airport.
82. A seven hour bus ride is half the price of a three hour train ride.
83. I am incapable of travelling without a purse, and should never again attempt such a feat.
84. Outside of North America, I am taller than many men. In India, I am taller than most men.
85. It is possible to mispronounce "Sam."
86. Being in Greece while your parents are in Chile after a massive earthquake is the lonliest feeling in the world.
87. Woolly mammoth skeletons are just as cool as dinosaur skeletons. Possibly moreso.
88. The Pink Palace is not all it's cracked up to be.
89. Daylight savings time does not happen on the same day in every country.
90. Many of the oil paintings available in touristy areas are actually made in China.
91. Rhinos snort with displeasure when you wake them up.
92. Dining in restaurants for every meal sounds glamorous until you try it. Eating out loses its appeal when it's a necessity, not a luxury.
93. The best tasting meals are the ones put together out of €20 worth of groceries. Saving money is delicious.
94. Lonely Planet books are worth their weight in gold.
95. Paris is home to both the best and worst French fries on the planet.
96. I am incapable of not buying additional luggage to cart around my souvenirs.
97. People really are generally good, and really want to help you.
98. The more you travel, the more you realize you haven't seen even a shred of what there is to see.
99. The world is unbelievably amazing.
100. There really is no place like home.
Friday, March 26, 2010
J'adore Paris!
It has been a crazy busy few days, so I'll just hammer out the Cliffsnotes version, as the days are beginning to blur.
On Tuesday, Sandy and I set out to explore Paris. We walked along the Seine, and then went into Notre Dame. Later, he headed to the gym and I headed back to Montmarte, as the book I bought from the Dali museum giftshop was French, and I needed to exchange it for the English version. The return trip worked out well because I really like the Montmarte area, despite its hustle and bustle of tourists, and I found a beautiful little original painting. A lot of the cheap art for sale is actually produced in China (The painting I bought in Greece is probably not made in Greece. So sad.), so I was happy to find something original and authentically French. I also got to see more of the breakdancers that make the steps their stage, and I stayed to watch a couple of their shows. If ever in Paris, go to Montmarte!
Later, I met up again with Sandy for dinner. We walked to the Moulin Rouge, and as we couldn't possibly afford to go in (apparently entry fees are around $150), we did the next best thing: ate dinner right across the street with the Moulin Rouge in sight!
On Wednesday we went to the amazing Chateau de Versailles, home of a dozen or so Louis-es, and their wives, including Marie Antionette. It is ridiculous! The level of luxury that they lived in was unbelievable, and to think that this massive palace was constructed without the use of cranes or modern tools, or that its ceilings were painstakingly painted without the use of scissor lifts (and sometimes entire ceilings were painting by only one person), is amazing. The building itself is a work of art, and its interior is a museum in itself. Dozens upon dozens of massive eerily-lifelike portraits hang throughout its rooms and halls, and many of its rooms are still fully furnished.
My favourite room is the hall of mirrors. 17 huge windows facing the garden on one wall are matched with 17 giant mirrors on the opposite wall. About a hundred million massive chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and I can only imagine what the room would have been like when set with gargantuan dining tables to receive loads of guests. (I think it was a banquet room, but I may be wrong. Regardless, it would be quite the setting for a party.)
Afterwards, Sandy and I split up as he needed to head back to Paris sooner than expected, and I wanted to further explore the gardens. My knee's been bugging me, and as it was a 2km+ walk to Marie Antionette's estate, I opted for the little train that tours the grounds.
Marie Antionette's estate was a little less than thrilling, as the opulence and decadence that she's so widely known for didn't come through in its buildings or furnishings. She was one of the few wives that abandoned the common rules and insisted things be done her way (it was usually the king's job to decide how things should look), so her influence is widely seen throughout the main palace. Plus her over-the-top costumes aren't displayed anywhere in Versailles. I was expecting to see more from her, but that's ok; I certainly wasn't disappointed.
I took the train back to Paris, and then the metro back to Sandy's, and soon was fast asleep as the day had tuckered me right out.
Yesterday I got up with the intentions of seeing the Eiffel Tower at 12:30pm, with time afterwards for the Catacombes. As nice as it's been having Sandy as a tour guide, I was happy to venture off on my own. I like going at my own pace without worrying about what others want to see or do, and it gives me time to soak in everything Paris.
Despite having a reservation for 12:30, I didn't actually reach the summit until 1:30. The lines and rain and wait were so so worth it though, as the view from the top is beyond amazing. Even the views from the lower floors are astounding, and there's a good reason hundreds (if not thousands) of people stand in hours-long lineups to ascend it.
While at the top, the rain subsided and glimpses of blue sky began to peek through the clouds. After wandering its perimeter several times, I descended to the second level. Paris has done a good job in including lots of information and displays throughout all the tower's levels, so if you get tired of seeing the view (yeah right), you can get your education on instead.
After two hours or so on the tower (I'm not going to be back anytime soon, may as well get my money's worth!), I finally descended back to ground level. It was too late to hit up the Catacombes as I had originally planned, so I set off to find Paris' Statue of Liberty, three bridges away.
France gave the US a giant Statue of Liberty to commemorate the States' 100 year anniversary of its declaration of independence. Three years later, as a thank-you, the US gives France a miniature bronze version of the same statue.
Way to be generous and original, America.
The Parisian statue is facing west, towards her American sister, and while it certainly can't compare to the Staten Island version, it was still pretty neat to see a Statue of Liberty in person. No lines or crowds either! But that's probably just because it's too tiny to even consider climbing.
Post-faux New Yorkness I headed to the Champs-Elysees to Fnac, as I wanted to find a copy of the cookbook that was for sale in the Eiffel Tower giftshop, but hopefully at a non-giftshop price. The book is called a Little Taste of France, and it was French recipes in English. If I can't find it in Paris I'll have to look for it at home, because its recipes looked deeeelicious! The first Fnac proved bookless, so I was sent to a different location, this time with books, but still no luck. After admitting defeat (for now), I metro-ed back to Sandy's for the night.
If anyone's looking for a birthday gift for me (because I know my birthday is the most important day of your collective lives), get me this! I promise I won't cook you frogs legs.
On Tuesday, Sandy and I set out to explore Paris. We walked along the Seine, and then went into Notre Dame. Later, he headed to the gym and I headed back to Montmarte, as the book I bought from the Dali museum giftshop was French, and I needed to exchange it for the English version. The return trip worked out well because I really like the Montmarte area, despite its hustle and bustle of tourists, and I found a beautiful little original painting. A lot of the cheap art for sale is actually produced in China (The painting I bought in Greece is probably not made in Greece. So sad.), so I was happy to find something original and authentically French. I also got to see more of the breakdancers that make the steps their stage, and I stayed to watch a couple of their shows. If ever in Paris, go to Montmarte!
Later, I met up again with Sandy for dinner. We walked to the Moulin Rouge, and as we couldn't possibly afford to go in (apparently entry fees are around $150), we did the next best thing: ate dinner right across the street with the Moulin Rouge in sight!
On Wednesday we went to the amazing Chateau de Versailles, home of a dozen or so Louis-es, and their wives, including Marie Antionette. It is ridiculous! The level of luxury that they lived in was unbelievable, and to think that this massive palace was constructed without the use of cranes or modern tools, or that its ceilings were painstakingly painted without the use of scissor lifts (and sometimes entire ceilings were painting by only one person), is amazing. The building itself is a work of art, and its interior is a museum in itself. Dozens upon dozens of massive eerily-lifelike portraits hang throughout its rooms and halls, and many of its rooms are still fully furnished.
My favourite room is the hall of mirrors. 17 huge windows facing the garden on one wall are matched with 17 giant mirrors on the opposite wall. About a hundred million massive chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and I can only imagine what the room would have been like when set with gargantuan dining tables to receive loads of guests. (I think it was a banquet room, but I may be wrong. Regardless, it would be quite the setting for a party.)
Afterwards, Sandy and I split up as he needed to head back to Paris sooner than expected, and I wanted to further explore the gardens. My knee's been bugging me, and as it was a 2km+ walk to Marie Antionette's estate, I opted for the little train that tours the grounds.
Marie Antionette's estate was a little less than thrilling, as the opulence and decadence that she's so widely known for didn't come through in its buildings or furnishings. She was one of the few wives that abandoned the common rules and insisted things be done her way (it was usually the king's job to decide how things should look), so her influence is widely seen throughout the main palace. Plus her over-the-top costumes aren't displayed anywhere in Versailles. I was expecting to see more from her, but that's ok; I certainly wasn't disappointed.
I took the train back to Paris, and then the metro back to Sandy's, and soon was fast asleep as the day had tuckered me right out.
Yesterday I got up with the intentions of seeing the Eiffel Tower at 12:30pm, with time afterwards for the Catacombes. As nice as it's been having Sandy as a tour guide, I was happy to venture off on my own. I like going at my own pace without worrying about what others want to see or do, and it gives me time to soak in everything Paris.
Despite having a reservation for 12:30, I didn't actually reach the summit until 1:30. The lines and rain and wait were so so worth it though, as the view from the top is beyond amazing. Even the views from the lower floors are astounding, and there's a good reason hundreds (if not thousands) of people stand in hours-long lineups to ascend it.
While at the top, the rain subsided and glimpses of blue sky began to peek through the clouds. After wandering its perimeter several times, I descended to the second level. Paris has done a good job in including lots of information and displays throughout all the tower's levels, so if you get tired of seeing the view (yeah right), you can get your education on instead.
After two hours or so on the tower (I'm not going to be back anytime soon, may as well get my money's worth!), I finally descended back to ground level. It was too late to hit up the Catacombes as I had originally planned, so I set off to find Paris' Statue of Liberty, three bridges away.
France gave the US a giant Statue of Liberty to commemorate the States' 100 year anniversary of its declaration of independence. Three years later, as a thank-you, the US gives France a miniature bronze version of the same statue.
Way to be generous and original, America.
The Parisian statue is facing west, towards her American sister, and while it certainly can't compare to the Staten Island version, it was still pretty neat to see a Statue of Liberty in person. No lines or crowds either! But that's probably just because it's too tiny to even consider climbing.
Post-faux New Yorkness I headed to the Champs-Elysees to Fnac, as I wanted to find a copy of the cookbook that was for sale in the Eiffel Tower giftshop, but hopefully at a non-giftshop price. The book is called a Little Taste of France, and it was French recipes in English. If I can't find it in Paris I'll have to look for it at home, because its recipes looked deeeelicious! The first Fnac proved bookless, so I was sent to a different location, this time with books, but still no luck. After admitting defeat (for now), I metro-ed back to Sandy's for the night.
If anyone's looking for a birthday gift for me (because I know my birthday is the most important day of your collective lives), get me this! I promise I won't cook you frogs legs.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Paris! And a whole lotta awesome!
For some reason I always use the phrase "With my luck..." and go on to forecast some unfortunate result, but I really should stop, because I seem to have amazing luck. (Anyone who knows my history with radio contests can attest to this.)
I am in Paris! And what was shaping to be a week of disaster (travel tip: do not save the most expensive part of your trip until the very end) has ended up being absolutely fantastic. So far anyway, and we'll cross our fingers it stays that way.
As I've been travelling in the off-season, I've had the luxury of leaving bookings til the last minute, sometimes booking stuff the day-of and still having all options available to me. But as it's now spring break season, which marks the beginning of high-season, things have changed.
Cue knight in shining armour to rescue damsel in distress! (Minus the romance.)
On Wednesday, back in Athens ("Back in Athens." How often do you get to say that?!), I met Sandy, who lives in Paris and was visiting Athens just for a handful of days during his holidays. On Thursday morning we went exploring around Athens before he had to leave for his plane, and he mentioned that if I had an trouble finding a hostel in Paris that I could crash at his place if need be. I thanked him for the offer, but didn't plan on taking him up on it as I didn't want to impose.
Later that afternoon I started planning my week in Paris, and was horrified to see that all of my top choices, and all of my second choices, and all of my last resorts were booked for Saturday night. Basically nothing near anything was available, and the hostels far away from everything with horrible ratings were still at least €25. After paying only €20/night for my super lovely, super equipped, super central hostel in Athens for which there was loads of availability, this made my heart sink.
I picked two nights in one room at St Christopher's Inn for Sunday and Monday, then a different room for Tuesday and Wednesday (I had to pick and choose to get the best rates. Not fun.), and made my reservation.
Then I fired off a Facebook message to Sandy asking him if I could take him up on his offer to crash at his apartment, as there wasn't anything reasonable available for Saturday night.
I posted my frustration on Facebook. Cue more heroes!
Mom says that she'll spring for a nice hotel for me for the weekend (Thanks mom!), Nicole finds a far-from-terrible offering on Hostelworld (when I looked they were full, so there must have been a cancellation), and Michael offers me a place to stay if I don't mind sharing a bed with him at Franck & Martine's place. (More about that later!)
If you want to feel loved, just make your status update that you're possibly homeless for a night.
Sandy gets back to me and tells me that I'm more than welcome. He even offers to meet me at the airport, which I assure him he doesn't need to do. He gives me directions to his place and I breathe a massive sigh of relief. I was joking that the worst case scenario* was me in my sleeping bag under the Eiffel Tower, and for a moment it seemed like that might actually be a reality.
*If the worst case scenario my life presents me is sleeping beneath the Eiffel Tower, I'll take it!
My last day in Athens was great. Mandy, who is from North Carolina but studying in Prague, and I spent the day touring the National Archaeological Museum, eating gelato, shopping for souvenirs and having an amazing Greek dinner. Then I was up dark and early at 5am on Saturday morning to head out for the airport, and Paris!
Michael, whom I met on the India/Nepal tour, and whom I spent the first two days of my trip travelling with as we were the first to arrive at the hotel in New Delhi, lives in Denmark. He was in Paris this weekend for a semi-business visit, and our timing just happened to work out perfectly that we could meet! He invited me to lunch at the apartment of his friends' on Sunday, with a plan to do a little exploring before and after.
The flight was fine, I slept much of the way as I was so tired from getting less than four hours of sleep. (Pesky takeoff interrupted my nap. Life is hard.) Then I collected my bags and set off for Sandy's.
The Paris metro system is INSANE! 14 lines, crisscrossing all over the city. Athens had three lines, and I thought it was huge. From Charles de Gaulle airport to Sandy's is a shuttle, a train, and then two metro lines. But I made it, and with no problems!
Sandy's best friend Emilie (who I might add is the most adorable thing ever) was over, and Sandy had cooked up some super delicious chicken and coconut rice. (Note to self: learn how to make coconut rice.) Later, Sandy and I are talking about my reservations for the week and he says that I'm more than welcome to stay the entire week, and that he likes having company.
So I can a) move my super heavy bags (you'd think I bought a chunk of marble column or something) to St Christopher's on Sunday night, sleep in one room for two nights, then switch rooms for another two nights, then move to wherever there's availability after that which might not even be in the same hostel, and be cranky every time I have to repack my bags.
Or I can b) cancel my reservations and stay at Sandy's all week, saving me at least €200 on accommodation, plus extra savings in not having to eat out every meal.
B it is! So now I've got the keys to an apartment in Paris for the week. Sandy also insisted I take his bedroom (I put up a big fight over this one but he's more stubborn than I am so he won) and he'd take the pullout couch in the living room so that he can stay up and watch TV or whatever, and he claims he sleeps in the living room all the time anyway. I feel like a jerk about it, but the last few nights have been the best sleep I've had this whole trip, so I won't complain too much.
Later on Saturday afternoon, Sandy, Emilie and I ventured out to meet up with their friend Sebastian, and we ran errands. I was careening my head every which way whenever we came out of the metro, because I had yet to see the Eiffel Tower or l'Arc de Triomphe, and I was hoping to spot them. (No dice.) Sandy and I parted ways with them later to meet up with Rashid and his super adorable four-year-old daughter Aida for Indian food. Then back to the apartment and I hit the hay.
Sunday morning I headed out to meet Michael. We'd planned to meet at Rue Mac Mahon, which is one of the streets branching out from the roundabout at l'Arc de Triomphe. As I came up the escalator out of the metro, there it was! I actually got a little teary when I saw it; all I could think was, "NOW I'm in Paris!"
Michael's been to Paris a handful of times before, but had never been to the top. We bought our tickets and began the 284 spiral steps to the top. The view was gorgeous! Despite it being overcast, it was an amazing view of the city. Then I turned around and saw...
the Eiffel Tower!!
Pretty cool that the first time I saw the Eiffel Tower was from atop l'Arc de Triomphe.
It is even more stunning in person. It's rivalled in height only by a couple of office towers, none of which are even in the same direction, so it stands tall and proud in the middle of Paris. I can't believe that it was originally only a temporary installation, but I can understand why its popularity made it a permanent fixture on the Paris horizon.
When we were done arcing, Micheal and I walked to the Eiffel Tower. He's been up it several times already and didn't want to go around, so we just wandered its vicinity before heading to Franck and Martine's.
Franck has been a business partner / friend of Michael's for seven or so years now, despite Franck being enough Michael's senior that he could have been his father. Franck and Martine live in the most beautiful apartment I've ever been in. The building was built around 1890, and the apartment has wood floors, a marble fireplace, and the most gorgeous mouldings I've ever seen. It's on the sixth floor of the building, which is the top floor, so the huge windows let in tonnes of light. They've kept much of the paint and furniture light or white, so the place feels airy. I loved it! Unfortunately, it's probably a few million out of my price range. Apartments like that don't come cheap.
They were the sweetest couple and made me feel so welcome. It's not often that you get to go to a city and see what a typical (well, this apartment probably isn't typical for the average Parisian, but you know what I mean) home is like. We had a very Parisian lunch, that began with pate, baguette and sausage in at the coffee table, and then we sat down for the main meal.
The main was roast chicken and the best French fries I've had in my life (or frites, if I want to be French about it). Martine is an excellent cook! Apparently, good fries are cooked more than once, with "rest" periods in between to let the oil drain off the fries. She used sea salt on them and they were delicious.
The second course is typically a salad or cheese, but we were spoiled with both. The man is supposed to turn the salad (the dressing sits in the bottom of the bowl), but Franck was spilling lettuce everywhere so Martine did it for him. The cheese was amazing; a super creamy brie that spilled out onto your plate as soon as you cut it, and a hard chevre (I thought chevre was only ever creamy, but I was wrong!). Then for dessert we had Martine's marvelous apple tart. I think I should pick up a French cookbook while I'm here, because the food was to die for.
Michael and I got to the apartment a little before 2, and lunch wasn't done until 3:40. They definitely take their time eating!
While Franck and Martine were incredibly lovely, I have to say my favourite character at their place was their dog Cookie, a Griffon. I fell in love with her (and she with me too, dare I say), and I had this cute brown head on my lap for much of my visit. She reminded me so much of Jack in appearance, but she didn't have any terrier in her. If all Griffons are as sweet and as cute as Cookie then I'd definitely consider adopting one one day. Love love love Cookie!
After our lovely lunch, Michael and I set off for the afternoon. We went to Montmarte and the Salvador Dali museum. Espace de Salvador Dali is pretty tiny by typical museum standards (and absolutely miniature compared to the Louvre), but it was still pretty interesting. The melting clocks are hands-down his most famous works, but I didn't know that he carried that and other themes into different styles of art, including lost-was sculptures. My favourite two pieces are ones that look like one thing on paper, but when viewed on a mirrored column they are something completely different. The first looked like abstract rocks on paper, but in the mirror it was s skull, and the second transformed from cute butterfly to creepy face.
Other recurring themes are women with drawers all over their bodies, and elephants with long spindly spider-esque legs. One things for sure: Dali was absolutely insane.
As infamous as his melting clocks is Dali's moustache, and I couldn't help but buy a book aptly titled Dali's Mustache from the giftshop. As the back of the book reads WARNING! This book is preposterous! there wasn't any way I couldn't bring it home with me.
I also discovered that a photograph that I've always really liked was by Dali, as I had no idea who the person responsible was previously.
Then we took the metro to the Latin Quarter, and saw the gorgeous Notre Dame at night. Then we found a little Spanish-ish (Maybe it was Colombian?) restaurant for dinner, and wrapped up our visit with crepes and hot chocolate.
I didn't think I'd ever see Michael again unless I went to Copenhagen, or unless he came to Vancouver, so it's awesome that our paths crossed in Paris. He's a sweetheart and it was nice to have someone to explore the city with.
Yesterday I set off with the intentions of going up the Eiffel Tower. When I got to the tower, I was awestruck. It seems the closer you get to it, the more amazing it becomes. It's no surprise that it's huge, but after only ever seeing it on TV or in miniature form, seeing its actual size is incredible.
Also incredible? The lines. To buy tickets, to get to the stairs, to get to the elevator. They were insane. I was out of cash, and the ATMs under the tower didn't accept my card, so I admitted defeat for the day and set off for the Champs-Elysees instead. I checked online, and you can buy tickets to the tower for a specific time and day, so I'm definitely going to do that instead later this week.
The Champs-Elysees is a sight to see. It's loaded with flagship stores of the most expensive brands (Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Hermes, etc) and department-sized versions of stores we even have at home, like Sephora. (Interestingly, the Sephora store had a Mac counter within it. I previously thought they were competitors, but I guess not!). The stores are more like museums, with giant light displays, items hanging from the ceilings as though they are art and not for sale, and security guards everywhere ensuring you don't touch their precious goods.
I indulged in the only two things I could afford on Champs-Elysees: McDonalds and its free wifi. Post-Big Mac, I headed back to Sandy's for the night, as I was spent.
I am in Paris! And what was shaping to be a week of disaster (travel tip: do not save the most expensive part of your trip until the very end) has ended up being absolutely fantastic. So far anyway, and we'll cross our fingers it stays that way.
As I've been travelling in the off-season, I've had the luxury of leaving bookings til the last minute, sometimes booking stuff the day-of and still having all options available to me. But as it's now spring break season, which marks the beginning of high-season, things have changed.
Cue knight in shining armour to rescue damsel in distress! (Minus the romance.)
On Wednesday, back in Athens ("Back in Athens." How often do you get to say that?!), I met Sandy, who lives in Paris and was visiting Athens just for a handful of days during his holidays. On Thursday morning we went exploring around Athens before he had to leave for his plane, and he mentioned that if I had an trouble finding a hostel in Paris that I could crash at his place if need be. I thanked him for the offer, but didn't plan on taking him up on it as I didn't want to impose.
Later that afternoon I started planning my week in Paris, and was horrified to see that all of my top choices, and all of my second choices, and all of my last resorts were booked for Saturday night. Basically nothing near anything was available, and the hostels far away from everything with horrible ratings were still at least €25. After paying only €20/night for my super lovely, super equipped, super central hostel in Athens for which there was loads of availability, this made my heart sink.
I picked two nights in one room at St Christopher's Inn for Sunday and Monday, then a different room for Tuesday and Wednesday (I had to pick and choose to get the best rates. Not fun.), and made my reservation.
Then I fired off a Facebook message to Sandy asking him if I could take him up on his offer to crash at his apartment, as there wasn't anything reasonable available for Saturday night.
I posted my frustration on Facebook. Cue more heroes!
Mom says that she'll spring for a nice hotel for me for the weekend (Thanks mom!), Nicole finds a far-from-terrible offering on Hostelworld (when I looked they were full, so there must have been a cancellation), and Michael offers me a place to stay if I don't mind sharing a bed with him at Franck & Martine's place. (More about that later!)
If you want to feel loved, just make your status update that you're possibly homeless for a night.
Sandy gets back to me and tells me that I'm more than welcome. He even offers to meet me at the airport, which I assure him he doesn't need to do. He gives me directions to his place and I breathe a massive sigh of relief. I was joking that the worst case scenario* was me in my sleeping bag under the Eiffel Tower, and for a moment it seemed like that might actually be a reality.
*If the worst case scenario my life presents me is sleeping beneath the Eiffel Tower, I'll take it!
My last day in Athens was great. Mandy, who is from North Carolina but studying in Prague, and I spent the day touring the National Archaeological Museum, eating gelato, shopping for souvenirs and having an amazing Greek dinner. Then I was up dark and early at 5am on Saturday morning to head out for the airport, and Paris!
Michael, whom I met on the India/Nepal tour, and whom I spent the first two days of my trip travelling with as we were the first to arrive at the hotel in New Delhi, lives in Denmark. He was in Paris this weekend for a semi-business visit, and our timing just happened to work out perfectly that we could meet! He invited me to lunch at the apartment of his friends' on Sunday, with a plan to do a little exploring before and after.
The flight was fine, I slept much of the way as I was so tired from getting less than four hours of sleep. (Pesky takeoff interrupted my nap. Life is hard.) Then I collected my bags and set off for Sandy's.
The Paris metro system is INSANE! 14 lines, crisscrossing all over the city. Athens had three lines, and I thought it was huge. From Charles de Gaulle airport to Sandy's is a shuttle, a train, and then two metro lines. But I made it, and with no problems!
Sandy's best friend Emilie (who I might add is the most adorable thing ever) was over, and Sandy had cooked up some super delicious chicken and coconut rice. (Note to self: learn how to make coconut rice.) Later, Sandy and I are talking about my reservations for the week and he says that I'm more than welcome to stay the entire week, and that he likes having company.
So I can a) move my super heavy bags (you'd think I bought a chunk of marble column or something) to St Christopher's on Sunday night, sleep in one room for two nights, then switch rooms for another two nights, then move to wherever there's availability after that which might not even be in the same hostel, and be cranky every time I have to repack my bags.
Or I can b) cancel my reservations and stay at Sandy's all week, saving me at least €200 on accommodation, plus extra savings in not having to eat out every meal.
B it is! So now I've got the keys to an apartment in Paris for the week. Sandy also insisted I take his bedroom (I put up a big fight over this one but he's more stubborn than I am so he won) and he'd take the pullout couch in the living room so that he can stay up and watch TV or whatever, and he claims he sleeps in the living room all the time anyway. I feel like a jerk about it, but the last few nights have been the best sleep I've had this whole trip, so I won't complain too much.
Later on Saturday afternoon, Sandy, Emilie and I ventured out to meet up with their friend Sebastian, and we ran errands. I was careening my head every which way whenever we came out of the metro, because I had yet to see the Eiffel Tower or l'Arc de Triomphe, and I was hoping to spot them. (No dice.) Sandy and I parted ways with them later to meet up with Rashid and his super adorable four-year-old daughter Aida for Indian food. Then back to the apartment and I hit the hay.
Sunday morning I headed out to meet Michael. We'd planned to meet at Rue Mac Mahon, which is one of the streets branching out from the roundabout at l'Arc de Triomphe. As I came up the escalator out of the metro, there it was! I actually got a little teary when I saw it; all I could think was, "NOW I'm in Paris!"
Michael's been to Paris a handful of times before, but had never been to the top. We bought our tickets and began the 284 spiral steps to the top. The view was gorgeous! Despite it being overcast, it was an amazing view of the city. Then I turned around and saw...
the Eiffel Tower!!
Pretty cool that the first time I saw the Eiffel Tower was from atop l'Arc de Triomphe.
It is even more stunning in person. It's rivalled in height only by a couple of office towers, none of which are even in the same direction, so it stands tall and proud in the middle of Paris. I can't believe that it was originally only a temporary installation, but I can understand why its popularity made it a permanent fixture on the Paris horizon.
When we were done arcing, Micheal and I walked to the Eiffel Tower. He's been up it several times already and didn't want to go around, so we just wandered its vicinity before heading to Franck and Martine's.
Franck has been a business partner / friend of Michael's for seven or so years now, despite Franck being enough Michael's senior that he could have been his father. Franck and Martine live in the most beautiful apartment I've ever been in. The building was built around 1890, and the apartment has wood floors, a marble fireplace, and the most gorgeous mouldings I've ever seen. It's on the sixth floor of the building, which is the top floor, so the huge windows let in tonnes of light. They've kept much of the paint and furniture light or white, so the place feels airy. I loved it! Unfortunately, it's probably a few million out of my price range. Apartments like that don't come cheap.
They were the sweetest couple and made me feel so welcome. It's not often that you get to go to a city and see what a typical (well, this apartment probably isn't typical for the average Parisian, but you know what I mean) home is like. We had a very Parisian lunch, that began with pate, baguette and sausage in at the coffee table, and then we sat down for the main meal.
The main was roast chicken and the best French fries I've had in my life (or frites, if I want to be French about it). Martine is an excellent cook! Apparently, good fries are cooked more than once, with "rest" periods in between to let the oil drain off the fries. She used sea salt on them and they were delicious.
The second course is typically a salad or cheese, but we were spoiled with both. The man is supposed to turn the salad (the dressing sits in the bottom of the bowl), but Franck was spilling lettuce everywhere so Martine did it for him. The cheese was amazing; a super creamy brie that spilled out onto your plate as soon as you cut it, and a hard chevre (I thought chevre was only ever creamy, but I was wrong!). Then for dessert we had Martine's marvelous apple tart. I think I should pick up a French cookbook while I'm here, because the food was to die for.
Michael and I got to the apartment a little before 2, and lunch wasn't done until 3:40. They definitely take their time eating!
While Franck and Martine were incredibly lovely, I have to say my favourite character at their place was their dog Cookie, a Griffon. I fell in love with her (and she with me too, dare I say), and I had this cute brown head on my lap for much of my visit. She reminded me so much of Jack in appearance, but she didn't have any terrier in her. If all Griffons are as sweet and as cute as Cookie then I'd definitely consider adopting one one day. Love love love Cookie!
After our lovely lunch, Michael and I set off for the afternoon. We went to Montmarte and the Salvador Dali museum. Espace de Salvador Dali is pretty tiny by typical museum standards (and absolutely miniature compared to the Louvre), but it was still pretty interesting. The melting clocks are hands-down his most famous works, but I didn't know that he carried that and other themes into different styles of art, including lost-was sculptures. My favourite two pieces are ones that look like one thing on paper, but when viewed on a mirrored column they are something completely different. The first looked like abstract rocks on paper, but in the mirror it was s skull, and the second transformed from cute butterfly to creepy face.
Other recurring themes are women with drawers all over their bodies, and elephants with long spindly spider-esque legs. One things for sure: Dali was absolutely insane.
As infamous as his melting clocks is Dali's moustache, and I couldn't help but buy a book aptly titled Dali's Mustache from the giftshop. As the back of the book reads WARNING! This book is preposterous! there wasn't any way I couldn't bring it home with me.
I also discovered that a photograph that I've always really liked was by Dali, as I had no idea who the person responsible was previously.
Then we took the metro to the Latin Quarter, and saw the gorgeous Notre Dame at night. Then we found a little Spanish-ish (Maybe it was Colombian?) restaurant for dinner, and wrapped up our visit with crepes and hot chocolate.I didn't think I'd ever see Michael again unless I went to Copenhagen, or unless he came to Vancouver, so it's awesome that our paths crossed in Paris. He's a sweetheart and it was nice to have someone to explore the city with.
Yesterday I set off with the intentions of going up the Eiffel Tower. When I got to the tower, I was awestruck. It seems the closer you get to it, the more amazing it becomes. It's no surprise that it's huge, but after only ever seeing it on TV or in miniature form, seeing its actual size is incredible.
Also incredible? The lines. To buy tickets, to get to the stairs, to get to the elevator. They were insane. I was out of cash, and the ATMs under the tower didn't accept my card, so I admitted defeat for the day and set off for the Champs-Elysees instead. I checked online, and you can buy tickets to the tower for a specific time and day, so I'm definitely going to do that instead later this week.
The Champs-Elysees is a sight to see. It's loaded with flagship stores of the most expensive brands (Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Hermes, etc) and department-sized versions of stores we even have at home, like Sephora. (Interestingly, the Sephora store had a Mac counter within it. I previously thought they were competitors, but I guess not!). The stores are more like museums, with giant light displays, items hanging from the ceilings as though they are art and not for sale, and security guards everywhere ensuring you don't touch their precious goods.
I indulged in the only two things I could afford on Champs-Elysees: McDonalds and its free wifi. Post-Big Mac, I headed back to Sandy's for the night, as I was spent.
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