Ticket To Paris

It was 1987. I had met Andreas the year before – had fallen madly in love and knew we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. We also knew we wanted to visit Paris. It was only 8 hours from where we were living at the time in Germany, so what was hindering us to see the city of love?

We always received travel brochures through the mail at that time, luring us to book the trip of a lifetime. And the tours they offered were cheap. We could do it. We were hooked. The brochure sounded promising. The traveler was to be picked up by the comfortable, luxurious travel bus Friday evening at 10, and arrive in Paris just in time for breakfast. After a short city tour, one could discover Paris on their own. The next morning would include a visit to the famous Versailles castle and its breathtaking gardens before heading back home.

Yes, this sounded too good to be true and we signed ourselves up. We couldn’t wait.

On the day of our tour, Andreas and I stood at the bus station, anxiously waiting. When the bus arrived, we hopped on and found our seats. The journey could begin. The hours dragged on. As we drove through the night, we found it difficult to get comfortable. Our muscles ached on the hard and lumpy seats.  Sleep did not find us, and we arrived in Paris at 7 o’clock, bleary eyed and dead-tired. We had envisioned a romantic bistro where we could enjoy our promised croissant and coffee, yet the dream of that was slightly shattered when the bus pulled up beside a huge cafeteria style restaurant, where we each received one croissant, along with a small piece of butter and some jam, and a lukewarm coffee.

Andreas and I ate in silence, yet our eyes both spoke the same thought. “This could only get better.”

All of us were collected back into the bus, and the tour guide promised us a fabulous city tour which would start immediately. I could hardly keep my eyes open. All we wanted was to be brought to our hotel room so we could rest, and then venture out on our own. There was so much we wanted to see. The Arc de Triumph was on the top of my list, and of course the Eiffel tower, the Seine River, and many other things; too many to mention.

Hours later we were still touring through Paris. By now I had lost all feeling in my lower part of the body, and I was aching and dead-tired. I needed to stretch my limbs and get out of this bus – soon. More hours rolled by and Andreas and I kept checking our watches. This was utterly ridiculous. We had been in the bus for over 16 hours when the bus finally stopped in front of our hotel. We grabbed our bags and staggered towards the old, tall building. Blessed rest awaited us.

After signing in and receiving our keys, we entered an ancient looking cage-like elevator, which brought us to our floor surprisingly in one piece. We entered our room and stood frozen, staring at the room. The dark, ripped wallpaper revealed deep cracks. The room was stuffy and small, but it had a sink. Oh, blissful happiness. I immediately poured cold water over my wrists and sprinkled my face with the refreshing coolness. This was one small remedy against low blood-pressure, which always worked for me. 

Meanwhile, Andreas had learned that the toilet was down the hall, to be shared by numerous other hotel guests on this floor. O boy! We looked at our watches. It was already 5 pm. We were so exhausted and we were running out of time. We had to make a quick decision. There was only time to see one tourist attraction. 

After freshening up I forced myself awake. We were in Paris. This was our chance of a lifetime. Who knew if we ever got this chance again? We did not want to miss this awesome opportunity. Andreas and I decided to at least see the Eiffel tower. We somehow had to do this. We left the hotel and first stopped at a small restaurant close by. Our stomachs were complaining and we needed to strengthen ourselves first before diving into our next adventure. After dining we found the metro and miraculously found the right train to bring us to our destination. As we climbed up from beneath the depth of the city, the grand tower greeted us with its beautiful lights. We had made it.

After paying our tickets, we stepped into the elevator, which brought us to the second level. From here we had a full view of the glittering city beneath us. Our hearts throbbed in our throats – probably due to all the stress – who knew. We stayed for a while, just taking in the beauty, resting our eyes on the glamour and magnificence. In the distance we could see the soft glow of the arc de triumph, and a soft sigh escaped my lips. Another time, I hoped. We arrived back at the hotel like the walking dead, and plunged into bed.

After a quick breakfast the next morning, our bus collected all of us at the front entrance. We couldn’t wait to see Versailles, and sunk into our seats. Over the microphone, we were informed that Versailles was cancelled for today, but the tour guide promised us another great destination – the Paris Flea Market. Andreas and I looked at each other, disappointment and anger reflecting in our eyes. We did not come to Paris to see the flea market. But we were stuck, and couldn’t venture out on our own.

We arrived at the famous market, and were left to browse for several hours. We couldn’t believe that we were left here, of all places, with so much time on our hands. We walked by the tables to admire rusty nails and broken and chipped windows, old books and candle holders. We walked back and forth, from one end to the other, and back again, without buying a thing.

Finally, it was time to climb back into the bus. Another long drive awaited us, this time both of us looking forward to our own beds and the much-needed sleep we both needed.

To give you some advice. Please don’t book a cheap bus tour. You truly get what you pay for.