One More Night in Paris; Always Say Yes!
Paris was everything that I had read. Paris was everything that I had heard. Paris had parks and cemeteries, and parks within cemeteries. It had gentlemen and ladies with horizontal stripped shirts. It had clichés and contradictions. And cats, so many cats.
I had a really (really) tight budget that forced me to do what I had planned: walk, write, walk, watch people live their lives and write some more. Staying at the hostel allowed me to keep food in the fridge and cook great meals with only a few Euros; eat at communal tables and talk with other fellow travellers.
I would spend my afternoons (weather permitting) across the street from the Eiffel Tower, just staring at this marvelous structure and pinching myself, convincing my head that I was in fact, not dreaming.
I shared my hostel bedroom with 5 strangers and their smells, their schedules, their noises. Everything was, most of the time, for lack of a better word, cute. Being 26 years old and really not caring much about being comfortable, made me endure the bad aspects of the trip. Just so I could see Paris and the Tower, I would endure.
The mattress was as thin as air, and after 10 days, my back was taking a toll; and it wasn’t until the last night, that my back was hurting so badly, my roommates were being obnoxiously loud, and I had gotten food poisoning, that I began to get in a really bad mood. I was, unexpectedly, done with Paris.
I’m not particularly good at setting up alarms, so since my flight was very early, I spent most of the night waking up and checking the time. The (before) adorable hostel did not seem that way anymore. Three flights of stairs and no one to help me with my bags, plus being sleepy, plus the cat that wouldn’t move from the middle of the step, made me want to get back to NY as fast as I could.
When I finally got to the airport, after the cab being late, I went for the check-in counter as fast as I could. A person from the airline stopped me and asked:
- Are you in a hurry to go back to NY?
My instincts were saying yes! Though the more rational part of my brain responded.
- No, not really, why?
- Because we are offering to spend one more days in Paris with all expenses paid if you give up your seat in today’s flight.
I thought about it for like 5 minutes, it seemed too good to be true. If this somehow didn’t work, I had no money to stay in Paris. And I don’t mean that in a figurative way, I mean it in the most literal of ways: I could only afford subway fare from JFK to my home.
I decided, like I do with most things in my life, very quickly and jumped into this opportunity.
It all worked out perfectly fine. The hotel was super luxurious (or at least compared to sharing a room with 5 people), the shower did not need me to constantly push a button to keep the water running, the food was served in plates! And so much food!
I got to sleep in not one, but two different beds, normal thickness mattress and no noises or smells. It seemed as if Paris didn’t want me to leave angry.
I remembered what I had loved about the city those ten days, and we parted ways with a smile.
About the author:
Eugenia Sincovich is an Argentinean writer that can’t seem to stay in one place! She loves everything that reminds her that she’s alive and does her best to convey those feelings into her texts. She currently writes for iNetGiant.
Related Unexpected Traveller Posts:
- Travel Rant #1 – The Concept of A Queue
- Guest Post: Five Things I’ll Never Say (Again) In An Airport
- Travel Rant #2: Boarding An Aircraft
- The Life of the Eternal Expat (from “Adventures in Expat Land”)
- On The Beach
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