Alright, let’s talk about my trip to France. Everyone paints this picture, you know? Baguettes, berets, strolling by the Seine. Sounded good. So, I figured, why not? Time for Stephen to see what all the fuss is about.
Packed my bags, learned maybe five French phrases – thought I was ready. Landed in Paris. First impression? Big. And busy. Really busy. Getting from the airport to the place I was staying was the first challenge. Tried the train. Seemed simple enough on the map they give you. It wasn’t.
Finding the right platform, buying the ticket… took way longer than it should have. Everyone seemed to know exactly where they were going, rushing past. Me? I was the guy standing there, looking confused, trying to match the signs to my crumpled map. Finally got on a train, hoped it was the right one.
Getting Around (or Trying To)
Then came the Metro. Heard it was the best way to see the city. Okay, let’s do it. Down the stairs, into another world. Lines everywhere. Different colors. Numbers. Names I couldn’t pronounce. Bought a pass, felt pretty good about that. Swiped it. Beeped angrily. Wrong way. Tried again. Still angry beeping. Turns out, you gotta go through the gate fast. Nobody tells you this stuff!
Navigating was trial and error. Mostly error.
- Ended up on the wrong line more than once.
- Got off at stops that looked nothing like the picture in my head.
- Tried asking for help. My “Bonjour” and “Merci” were okay, but anything more complicated? Forget it. Pointing became my main form of communication.
And food. Man, the food. It’s good, don’t get me wrong. But ordering? Another adventure. Pointed at something on the menu in this little bistro. Sounded fancy. Turned out to be steak tartare. Raw meat. Not exactly what I was expecting for lunch, but hey, when in France, right? Ate it. It was… interesting.
Tried to just walk around, soak it in. Got lost. A lot. Walked down streets that just… ended. Found myself in neighborhoods that weren’t in the guidebook. But honestly? That was the best part. Away from the massive crowds at the Eiffel Tower or the Louvre.
Found this tiny bakery, smelled amazing. Went in, pointed at a pastry. No idea what it was called. Ate it standing on the street. Best thing I had the whole trip. Stumbled upon parks where actual French people were just hanging out, playing games, kids running around. Sat on a bench, just watched for a while. Didn’t understand the conversations, but it felt real.
So yeah, my time in France wasn’t the smooth, glamorous movie scene I maybe expected. It was messy. Confusing sometimes. A bit frustrating. But that’s what made it memorable. You figure things out. You try stuff. You get lost and find something unexpected. That was my practice, just diving in and dealing with it. That was Stephen in France. Not perfect, but definitely an experience.
