This summer I decided I wanted to finally realise a goal to travel around Europe and the many great cities it has to offer, an ambition I have long been holding onto. After living vicariously through a number of free spirit travel videos for so long and armed with ample funds from working at McDonald’s, it was time to plan the trip. Cities like Prague, Vienna and Budapest were at the top of my list and with knowledge gained from watching the amazing travel videos entitled ‘Vagrant Holiday’ on YouTube I knew of the company FlixBus – a coach company that offers 5 direct trips around Europe for only €99.

However after the mission turned from a solo to duo effort, with my good friend, Luke, agreeing to join me after he expressed interest in the holiday, we quickly changed tact. We reached a consensus that ditching coach travel for trains would be more convenient, comfortable and altogether easier, given that we could cross the channel on the Eurostar. With the Eurostar in mind, we bought Interrail passes, something that I had used before on a family holiday two years prior. Our passes were for seven separate days of travel across Europe, and as Interrail permits one outbound and inbound journey from and to your home country, we were able to include our Eurostar trip as part of the IR pass. With a change in transport, our destinations had to adapt. Unfortunately Budapest had to be put on hold, along with other more eastern European cities that I’d like to see, as going too far east would have made staying within the confines of our IR passes difficult. We decided that we’d get the Eurostar to Paris and begin our trip there.

Arriving in the French capital, we stepped off the sleek locomotive into the noise of Paris Gare Du Nord greeted by policemen carrying G36 rifles, or a variant thereof. Our hostel was around a 30 minute walk according to Google Maps so we decided to forego a taxi, or tackling the metro with which we weren’t yet familiar, to keep our spending low. We had enough clothes for the twelve days of travel and whatever other necessities we could cram into our backpacks. So in the early September heat we set off walking, lugging along this weight and following alongside a road abreast with cars and the belligerent drivers within them. We quickly noticed this particular area to be dirty, smelly, somewhat rundown and altogether unpleasant. Luke’s usually hurried pace fastened, coinciding with his strong feeling of nervousness which I too was harboring. Eventually however we arrived at the hostel: Auberge International des Jeunes, an agreeable hostel with comfortable beds and adequate bathroom facilities.

In the time between arriving at the hostel and heading back out for central Paris we had killed a number of hours as it was now early evening. With little direction, a constant theme for the holiday, we walked pass the Place de la Bastille and onto the perimeter of Notre-Dame, an unfortunate sight limited by the guarded border as a result of the disastrous fire that ravaged it earlier this year. As anyone used to colder climes will agree, often just being in a warmer country is a treat in itself and although a city as awash with beauty and culture as Paris is, we didn’t find ourselves in any immediate rush to indulge in it. Instead the evening was spent walking; loosening up after a day of travel. We wandered the Parisian streets, now bathed in golden sunlight, before retiring for the night.

The next day we arose, well rested and prepared to properly begin the holiday. Breakfast at the hostel was included – consisting of a choice of hot drink, french bread, orange juice and a small madeleine-like sponge – so we ate and left for the day, stepping out into blistering heat. Again we walked, still apprehensive towards foreign public transport, to our destination of central Paris. The streets were busy, filled with people who all seemed to know where they were going and were going there quickly. For me the most intimidating thing about being a tourist is being obviously recognisable as one, especially in a staunchly proud cultural country like France. Although I’m sure local Parisians have become accustomed to the large number of visitors in their city, I couldn’t shake this feeling. Walking was maybe not a wise option on this day; it was 30 degrees Celsius but the city air must have been creating a micro-climate because it felt closer to 35. By the time we were nearing the 1st arrondissement my attempts at maintaining good personal hygiene and odour were being severely undermined.

Prior to this summer it had been 8 years since I last visited Paris. I had already seen all of the big tourist attractions, but for Luke’s benefit (I can’t recall if he’d visited Paris before or not) we went to the most visited sites; the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, etc. On the way I unsheathed my new camera; the Canon AV-1, a cheap 35mm film affair which I’m sure I will talk about in more length when I have more experience with it. Given that we would be traversing much of the cities visited on foot, I wanted to capture the frequent, vibrant street scenes that would be presented to me. We reached the tourist haven of the area surrounding the Eiffel Tower, and first went to the Louvre museum courtyard, choosing not to actually enter the museum for the sake of our bank accounts and limited time in the city. Then to the Eiffel Tower itself, or at least the park surrounding it, to admire its iron girdered elegance, simultaneously avoiding the pestering advances of ‘looky-looky’ men (knock off souvenir sellers) which bestrew the area. After this it was decided that lunch was in order, all that walking had depleted much needed energy. We went off in search of an appropriate establishment and settled on the very traditional French cuisine of pizza.

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After lunch we headed for Montmartre and ended up sitting in the sun upon the great hill, resting our now full stomachs. We spent enough time here to catch the sun in places we had missed with sun-cream, but eventually got round to planning our next move. In all honesty we just didn’t have the energy to do much, the frantic pace of Paris accompanied with the draining heat was a sucker punch we couldn’t contend with. I suggested that wherever we went next we should not walk, but figure out what public transport we could use. Luke looked up the necessary information and we decided to use the metro to get back to the hostel. The Paris metro is reminiscent of a slightly run down fairground ride. The train moves at what feels like an unsafe speed whilst making a piercing shrill shriek and pulls abruptly into stations, not stopping before opening its doors. It matches the mood of the city and together the frantic train and passengers create a sort of hurried dance. Either way it got us to the cool, shady respite of our hostel.

Later that evening we went back out for a delicious meal of steak in a local restaurant followed by a walk around the quieter streets surrounding the area. The cool evening air was lovely and if we had had more time there I would have liked to explore more of Paris in the evening and at night. Instead we turned in for the night, needing to wake up at 6 am the following morning to catch our train out of the French capital. Overall I am in no rush to return to Paris. It was busy, hot, crowded and noisy, and didn’t offer us many redeeming features other than good food and slightly tanned skin. Up early the next day we packed our things and left, reaching Paris Gare de l’Est via the metro in time for our packed train to the south German city of Frankfurt.

Thank you for reading and be sure to look out for the next travel post on our visit to Frankfurt. Rob.