I have to confess something. Its not too embarassing or shameful (compared with the other ridiculous shit I've done in the past) but it definitely hints at my stubbornness, my 'rip, shit and bust' tendencies and, well.. reaffirmed, shall we say, my navigational skills (or lack thereof).
Last night I was once again lucky enough to attend a delightful dinner, with divine company, delicious French cuisine and friendly waiters. The restaurant was very French, it was located right next to the Pantheon in a really nice area of the 5th. All the tables were underground in caves and I thank my inherited stature that I can actually fit into these restaurants as the ceilings are extremely low and walkways very skinny. Our group took up most of the restaurant and our mis-matched banter and interchangeable language made us fit in with the diverse clientele this restaurant attracted (we had even been warned that a magician often performed at 11.30pm for the guests, something about being shocked by shear talent helping the food go down better).
Nevertheless, the evening was fun and we ended up staying pretty late (though it appears the magician was on leave that night and our high hopes for his true skills were tarnished).
After a couple of extra glasses of Sangria and a complimentary end beverage of a hard but unknown substance (which I'm guessing gives a rose tinted memory of the night, that wobbly chair, hard potato and tiring waiter swept to the wayside). We left together and headed past the glorious, Christmas tree-adorned Pantheon and neighbouring Sorbonne (tsk tsk) for the metro. Living close by and after a large three course meal (with a heart melting chocolate mousse to really set your taste buds aflutter) I opted to skip the metro and walk home. I had walked to the restaurant on the way there, meeting up with a friend to ensure we made it on time. However the walk to the metro had off-centred me slightly and so as I bidded 'bonne soir' to the group, I tried to establish the direction home.
Off I set, content as only a fine dining and full belly experience can do, admiring the beauty of the empty streets in the early hours of the morning. Suddenly becoming acutely aware that buildings in Paris look remarkably similar, I began to notice that I had walked a lot longer in the same direction than I had on the way there. Strolling along anyway so as to keep my face from getting frostbite and refusing to succumb to the preposterous idea that I had left in the wrong direction, I decided to walk on further. Well, I now realize that this was not the best idea.
After walking a bit further, I happened across a map on the side of the street (note: I did not have a map on me. I had broken my bag and was forced to take a small one for the evening, thus sacrificing the least important artefact of a night out in a big city that is impossible to etch into one's memory. In went cellphone, biscuits, hair dryer and the bathroom sink, but my poor map was sitting lonely and forlorn on the table at home. To top off the situation, the map I had saved on my iPhone was refusing to accommodate me and decided to go completely blank). So I glanced at the map and decided I was in fact walking in somewhat the right direction, I just had to veer east. Easy. I can veer.
Thirty minutes of veering later and I still hadn't hit the desired Seine. Problem.
I now had no idea what part of town I was in, didn't recognize the street signs, it was becoming increasingly deserted. Turn back?, you may think. But alas, no. Walk on, Hanna thought.
So I did. I managed to reach a busy street (or it would have been, had it not been for the hour I reached it) and actually caught sight of a metro. I found two 'normal' looking ladies coming out and asked them what direction the Seine was. One looked at me like I was crazy and the other voiced her thoughts "tres loin" she said. Very far? Hmm, not exactly what I was hoping for. "Mais voici le metro" she said pointing behind her, clearly concerned about the distance I was suggesting to. Hanna stupidity won over again. Off I set on foot for the 'tres loin' Seine.
After walking for a very long time in the direction she suggested I fell upon signs for Chatelet and with a boost of delight, I decided to follow them, failing to notice they were in the opposite direction I was currently heading. This new area beckoned bizarre stares and strange comments from passer-bys and I decided if I stumbled upon a metro again, this time I would flag 'mes pieds' and catch a train. Voila! A metro appeared. Finally happy, I bounded for the platform. Only to be greeted with the ever feared blank lines on the board. The last metro had already left. The next one would be at 6am. Umm....oops?
Turning round, I left the station and kept walking. By this time, my face was probably blue (regret of running late and forgetting my gloves and scarf an ever present and chilling torture), my fingers could barely function and then, because I really needed an added something to make the night a little more difficult, it started to rain. Cold, tired, lost, confused, Mrs. Sensible decided to make an appearance in my navgationally challenged brain and I walked to the nearest busy street to hail a cab. At least one thing seemed to be going my way and I managed to quickly get one.
Once in the cab, I suddenly realized I only had 5 euro left from dinner and the euro count on the cab was ticking past almost as fast as my brain was calculating the situation. When the counter got to 4.90 I told the driver that here was fine (it actually was, I could see the Notre Dame so knew what way to go) but once he stopped the surcharge calmly popped up alongside the desired 4.90, becoming an evil 6.80 that caused my heart to drop. I told the driver I only had 5 euro, thinking a kind soul such as his would give a girl a break and dedeuct a measly 1.90, but I guess his kids needed dinner the next night because he refused to relent. He drove me to the nearest cash machine (you would think in Paris they would have cash machines closer together, but no, I felt like I was back where I started by the time we found one). I got some money, gave it to him and thankfully retraced the cab ride back to the Notre Dame and walked the rest of the way home.
Tomorrow, I'm buying a bigger fucking bag and never letting that map outta my sight.
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