I’m Moving to Paris! (and other stories)

ALBUM - Café Bleu by The Style Council (especially The Paris Match and My Ever Changing Moods)

Not really but I wish. So as you may have guessed if you follow my Instagram (@mymiddlenameisnotjoan), I just spent this last weekend in Paris. It was very impromptu and means that I am now probably the poorest I have ever been. But I move on with no regrets quite simply because it was well worth my sorry state of financial affairs.

Me and three of my university friends from here in Catania flew through Rome to Paris. If any of you have read my interrailing post you will know that I like to pair holidays with incessant amounts of drinking and seeing what the results amount to. In Rome, we decided getting drunk a good 20 minute walk from our gate was a spectacular idea, until we were only halfway through our last drinks when the plane started to board. As a habitual worrier I dragged us all running drunkenly to the gate where we embarrassingly still had to wait at least 10 minutes in a queue. But at least we were on our way!

I don’t know how many of you keep up to date with the day-to-day weather forecast for Paris (I personally don’t but whatever floats your boat…). It snowed on Thursday evening, conveniently just as our flight was meant to get in. We spent an excruciating 2 hours on the runway waiting for one thing after another before we were finally allowed to get off the plane. So when we arrived at the AirBnB we were starving and exhausted and all drunkenness from Rome airport had worn off. The plans of going to a bar and getting terribly drunk went right out the window and we found ourselves in a late night kebab shop buying chicken burgers - lovely! It did however work out for the better as we woke up fresh and not hungover the next day.

So Friday morning we set off into the centre for a petit dejeuner of croissants and coffee. But alas, it was past midday so petit dejeuner became dejeuner. Having been bored to tears of pasta and pizza in Sicily, we were all so grateful for some non Italian food before heading off to the Notre Dame and the Lock Bridge. Carson and Ryan, two of my travel pals, had never been to Paris before, so I had the great joy of being that annoying twat who just says variations of “Paris is amazing, I can’t believe you’ve never been, you’re going to love it” over and over again and pretending that I knew where I was going. I did a pretty good job of navigating in my opinion, but luckily one of Hywel’s friends studying in Paris joined us so we didn't have to rely solely on me - thank God. I have incidentally never been inside Notre Dame and was pleasantly surprised at how breathtakingly different it was to so many churches I have visited. The stain glassed windows remain the star of the show and give the church a wonderful ambience.

We then headed over to the Palais Royale before making our way to the Louvre. Here of course we took an offensive amount of pictures because how often do you get to see a massive glass pyramid? Entry to the Louvre was amazingly free for us as we are EU residents under 26 years old - insert Brexit rant here. Apparently it would take an entire 3 days to see everything in the Louvre, but we stuck to the important stuff - the Venus de Milo and Mona Lisa were top on our list of things to see. The rest of the time we were hideously cultured and went round the Greek and Roman sculptures in the hope of finding a penis that compared in size to a micropenis. You can’t take us Brits anywhere.

We spent a great deal of time in the Louvre for many reasons, naturally the art is very beautiful and I love walking round art galleries, but most importantly we struggled to find the exits and were glad to be inside away from the cold. I told you we were cultured. Paris was unbelievably cold. We have all been living in Catania for 3 months now and are very used to the Mediterranean weather we have here - cold for us is 9℃. So a lot of our weekend was spent finding cafés in which we could hide from the cold, and drink French coffees and hot chocolates. This had been my plan as soon as I agreed to go to Paris but you have to do some sightseeing I guess.

After an amazing Croque Monsieur we headed over to the Eiffel Tower where Carson, who has never been to any other European country besides Italy, was absolutely astounded, especially when it turned 7 o’clock and the lights started having a seizure and sparkled for 5 whole minutes. I feel like I don’t need to add my piece on the Eiffel Tower, the facts that it is the most famous building in France and one of the most iconic structures in the world suffice. After standing around the Eiffel Tower for a good half hour taking all angles of pictures, we had completely frozen our asses off and decided it was time to go home, not forgetting to make another pit stop in a cafe for some more hot chocolates.

With Paris being a very expensive city we decided we would get some food delivered to our AirBnB and have a few drinks at home on Friday night and save up for a nice big fancy (ish) meal on Saturday. So once again I woke up on Saturday not hungover and ready for another day of being a tourist. First on our to do list was the Sacre Coeur which Carson thought needed a good clean. Personally this was the highlight of the trip as I bought my beret here. I know I’m terribly stereotypical and I should be ashamed, but I refuse. I like my beret, I feel like a true Parisian even though I am aware of what a deluded cliché I am. After the Sacre Coeur we took the metro down to the Champs Elysees and walked down to the Arc de Triomphe - which is also free for EU citizens under 26, so we climbed up to look down on a very misty and cold Paris. It was then we decided it might not be worth our money to climb up the Eiffel Tower seeings as visibility was so poor.

We did however stop for yet another hot chocolate and bought some French pastries before heading to the Tower to watch it glitter and sparkle in all its glory again as the clock struck the hour. Being with two people who had never encountered the Eiffel Tower before made me realise how astoundingly beautiful it really is. For our last dinner we headed down to Montparnasse and ate in one of my family’s favourite restaurants - La Coupole is a household name in the Flynn-Hastings households. The area of Montparnasse is really something, there is so much going on and it is just so mesmerizing to walk through, if you’re ever in Paris make sure to pop in. With our flight being at 7 the next morning I am afraid no drunkenness ensued and Paris was a decidedly sober affair. It is, undoubtedly, absolutely one of my favourite places and just walking around it for a mere 48 hours gives me the strength to keep studying for my degree so I can get that good job and move into my Parisian penthouse and live out the bohemian life I was destined for. I would sit in cafés, drinking coffee, wearing my beret and a pair of hideously big expensive sunglasses, listening to the Paris Match by The Style Council and lots of old jazz. Like I said, I know I’m a cliché, but a girl can dream eh?

I also don’t think I can finish this post without adding in a little sidenote. This probably helps to explain also why I enjoyed my weekend in Paris so much. On the day I was leaving Catania for Paris, I was followed part of the way home and then, for want of a better phrase, sexually assaulted in my local supermarket by a Sicilian man. He followed me along my street asking me to go for coffee with him and trying to get me to get on his motorbike before I decided to make my escape for the supermarket just across from my house. The man did not like taking no for an answer however and followed me into the supermarket touching my ass at every chance he could and trying to grab me. I was saved when I ran to the till and asked for help. Before making his quick exit, the man groped me one last time with a hurt look on his face as if he didn't understand why I was running away and asking for help.

I made my way home assisted by the supermarket workers to ensure he couldn't accost me on the way back to my flat. I will admit I was incredibly shook up, but what is even harder to admit is that I was embarrassed. I found myself struggling to tell people out of sheer embarrassment thinking that it was my fault. I even, to my disappointment, on the phone to my mum tried to explain it all away and excuse his behaviour by the fact that I was wearing a short skirt, to which my mum also replied “perhaps you should wear jeans for the rest of the time you’re there”. And here I come to my rock and the hard place. I hate that I still tried to excuse this behaviour by blaming myself - as if I was asking for it. I want the freedom to wear what I please but at the same time I am so terrified to be hassled again. I don’t want to dampen what was meant to be an ultimately light-hearted and exciting post but I felt it necessary to publicise my story, in the hope that little by little these sort of things stop happening. I know I’m living in a fool’s paradise but I just want to feel safe walking out my door every morning for uni. I don’t think that is much to ask. So that is why Paris was such a welcome escape from Catania, just for a few days I got to leave the Sicilian way of life behind, where any girl is fair game and theirs for the taking. Honestly, it makes me sick and I am looking forward to never feeling like this again. But despite all of this, the most important thing to take from this post is that I look fabulous in a beret and that Paris is my calling, I guess I’ll have to start learning French at some point… Until next time!