79 HOURS IN PARIS | #2

Hi there!

So nearly a week ago I published a snippet of the story / recap of  Paris I've been working on, and I got a really positive response - aka people at school questioning me to find out when the next part is gonna be out - so, as long as it stays that way, I thought I'd upload a chapter - or as I usually call it: an 'hour' - or so every week! Yay or nay? Comment below ;)

Okay, here we go again.

Disclaimer: this story is based on real live events, but is dramatized. Characters have been given different names for privacy reasons. I have no intention of judging or humiliating anyone. If you feel like a part of this story is somehow inappropriate, please email me (businessrosaly@gmail.com) with your reason and I will see to remove said part.

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Hour 2

After a few minutes of waiting outside in the freezing cold, our arms aching from carrying our luggage, one of the wooden doors opens and Nicolas reappears. One by one, we are allowed inside. When I step across the stone threshold, I find myself standing in a small hall, brick tiles on the floor, the reception in the left corner. Apart from a wooden bench and a suspicious looking cupboard, the hall is empty. On the right, there is a passageway, presumably leading to the dining room, but Nicolas leads us through a passage in the the wall opposite to the double wooden doors. We expect to have to go up the staircase that we find ourselves at the bottom of, but instead, Nicolas marches down to a very small room with an extremely low ceiling. The walls are lined with metal racks, on which we are able to leave our bags and, should we want to, our coats. The room isn't big enough to fit the amount of people that are lining up and blocking the exit, and I feel my claustrophobia setting in. Great timing, I think, just wonderful. I clumsily push a few people aside, scitter up eleven steps and join the small group of people that have also found a way to escape from down there.

When everyone has dropped off their luggage, we return to the chilly, cobbled street, without getting to do what we'd so desperately hoped for: go to our bedrooms, unpack and, potentially, take a much needed powernap. Some of us, including myself, have been up since 6AM this morning and look like the Cullens' newest acquisition. We are divided into three groups of ten, each guided by one of the three teachers. This is always a little bit of a thing to me, because, let's face it, I'm no good at meeting new people. This time, I'm lucky. Our entire 'squad', except Lisa and Emily, is put into one group. Mandy, Alex, David, Will, along with a few other people, one of which is Oliver, a good friend of Will's. Fanatical basketball player and usually has his eyes closed in pictures. Nice guy, though I have to admit that the number of proper conversations we've had is probably to be counted on two hands. But whatever we're about to do is not going to be tiresome, because put Will and Oliver together an your afternoon is bound to be filled with laughter and stupid jokes. I remember once when we were on our way back home, to Amsterdam, from a school trip to the Hague. I was sitting behind the two of them in the bus, having fled from the seat close to my friends. I was having a panic attack, on the verge of crying my eyes out, in public, which would've only made things worse, when I overheard them playing a game. They would each take turns in humming a song that the other one then had to guess. It was silly, quite frankly hilarious, and I couldn't help but bursting into laughter when Oliver started humming 'Hot N*gga' - by Bobby Shmurda - and sounded like a baby seal gone wrong. When I'd revived, my anxiety was nowhere to be seen.

I am brought back to reality by Mandy tapping my shoulder.
'You okay?' She asks.
'Yeah, I'm fine.'
It is now that I realise Eileen is lecturing us, the other two groups have already left.
'What's she talking about?' I ask Mandy.
'We're going on a nice long walk.' The sarcasm in her voice is overwhelming.
'Seriously? Right now? I'd rather sleep for a bit.'
'Yeah same.' We both sigh.
'But hey, we're in Paris! Frickin Paris! Can you believe that?'
I still can't get a hold of the fact that we are actually in the city of light and love, or whatever they may call this gigantic bundle of houses, cathedrals, bridges, museums, monuments and street lanterns. I call it Paris.

After Eileen has explained to us all of the details on the 'treasure hunt that lays in front of us', we start walking towards the Seine. I am instantly reminded of the song 'Our Last Summer' from Mamma Mia. We cross one of the thirty-seven Parisian bridges that go over the river Seine. The bridge in question leads to the Île de la Cité, and I'm guessing we're on our way to the Notre Dame. But before we proceed footing, we obviously have to let our inner artists do their thing and start filling our camera rolls. Even I pull out my crappy iPhone and snap a few shots. Only when Eileen is explicitly telling us we should really get a move on, we give in and resume dragging our feet along the pavement. Mandy, however, is not willing to put her camera away just yet and is persuading us to assist in vlogging the entire trip for our two friends, Sarah and Jenny, who went to Berlin instead of Paris. She enforces us to do so by turning on her camera and pointing it at us. We say some incoherent sentences on the topic of now being in Paris, after which Mandy decides she is content and turns the camera off.

Paris is full of little shops that are all worth walking into and getting lost in, is the first conclusion of the day. The second one is that watching out is even more important that back home, because the traffic is ten times crazier. Walking a bit too close to the edge of the sidewalk is a complete no-go. Once we get closer to the Notre Dame, the number of cars on the street decreases, but the number of tourists does the absolute opposite. It isn't long until I find myself having to watch my step, making sure I don't step on any feet or even dogs. When the street we were walking opens up to the Place Jean Paul II, my eyes drift over the mass of people and rest on the immense cathedral on the left side of the Place. It's absolutely breathtaking. We walk over to the middle of the Place and glance at the queue to go into the Notre Dame. It sways over the cobbled ground like a satin ribbon, at least two hundred feet long.
'It's moving quite fast. Shall we queue up for five minutes and see how far we get?' Eileen looks at us with questionmarks written all over her face.
'Yeah, why not?' I say, and walk over to the end of the satin ribbon.

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So, that was Hour 2 of '79 Hours In Paris'. Please comment below what you thought of it, I would really appreciate some feedback, whether it were positive or negative! Anyhow, hope enjoyed it, please share it as well, if you want to, of course. Aaaand, should you, for any reason, want to contact me, my details are on my CONTACT ME page.

Hope you enjoyed reading it!

Love,
Rosaly